Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 2 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

The Terrifying Mana Capacity Gauge

Elective classes at Serendia Academy generally included a mix of students from all three grades. However, the third-year students decided on their electives at the very start of the semester, so they’d already had about half a month more time in class than first- and second-year students. The observation tour was intended to give those younger students a chance to move around and observe the third-years’ classes.

In all honesty, Monica had wanted to go around with Lana, but she’d apparently already decided on a class.

“Hey, Monica, what classes are you taking?” Lana asked.

“U-um…I was going to decide after looking around a bit…,” she answered with a vague smile.

As soon as class let out, Monica burst from the room. Felix had said he’d pick her up at her classroom today, but if that happened, she’d once again stand out in a bad way.

After leaving the classroom and walking for a bit, she caught sight of Felix just as he rounded the corner of the hallway. He greeted her with a simple “hey” and a smile, his gorgeous golden locks swaying. “I said I’d come get you. You’re pretty enthusiastic about this, huh?”

She couldn’t tell him she’d run out of the classroom to avoid negative attention. Her eyes darted around, unable to look at him. “Um, well, yes, I, er… I’m really enthusiastic, and…well, thank you for showing me around.” Monica bowed her head and started walking, staying a few steps behind Felix.

Most of those in the hallway were first- and second-year students, but here and there, a third-year like Felix could be seen. A handful of them seemed to be serving as guides.

I just have to take a look at the magecraft class… As long as I decide on something else by the end, there won’t be any problem. Yeah…, she thought to herself.

Then suddenly, it dawned on her. Which classes had Felix taken? If he’d recommended magecraft to Monica, did that mean he was studying it as well? She’d heard that many of the members of Ridill’s royal family were especially good at magecraft. The current king was proficient in earth magecraft, though he seldom displayed his talents.

“U-um…,” she stammered. “A-are you, um, taking the magecraft class, too?”

“No, I don’t have any such talent,” he said casually with a shake of his head. He didn’t seem particularly frustrated about it.

That surprised Monica a little. The world at large considered Felix Arc Ridill to be a perfect prince, capable of anything. And he was very talented. His skills included not only swordplay and horsemanship but book learning, too. And his training in dance and the other refined arts was perfect. She’d heard he already had a record of achievement in diplomacy. This was completely different from Monica, who was bad at almost everything.

…But he can’t use magecraft. Huh.

Innate talent, such as how much mana a person was born with, played a big role in magecraft, so it wasn’t something he could do much about. Still, since he’d mentioned how it had a lot in common with mathematics, she’d assumed he was pretty well versed in the subject.

While she was letting her thoughts wander, she heard a person cry out from ahead of them. Her gaze naturally drifted to the source—a young man with dirty-blond hair running toward them.

“Oh,” said Monica softly, coming to a stop. Felix followed suit, looking at her as though asking if this was someone she knew.

As she struggled to answer, the loud young man stopped in front of Monica. “It is you! I knew it! Hi!” he said cheerfully, a toothy grin on his face.

This was the young mage she’d run into in Craeme two days ago. He’s a student here…?! she thought.

He’d been wearing simple clothes when she’d met him in Craeme, and he spoke with the accent of a commoner. She hadn’t even considered the possibility he might be attending Serendia Academy.

Meanwhile, another member of the student council—Neil—came rushing down the hall from the same direction. “Glenn, no running in the halls!” Then he paused, his eyes widening in surprise. “…Huh? The president and Lady Norton? Do you know Glenn?”

Monica wasn’t sure how to answer. But when she hesitated, the boy named Glenn happily took over. “I ran into this tiny girl two days ago in the town of Craeme,” he told Neil.

Slightly crushed by the words tiny girl, Monica looked up at the young man. He was tall—probably about as tall as Felix. But if he was in the same class as Neil, he must have been a second-year student just like her.

“I’m Glenn Dudley! I just transferred in this autumn. Neil’s my classmate.”

He came to school this autumn? That meant he’d transferred here at the same time as Monica. A little surprised to learn about another transfer student, she introduced herself.

“Um, I’m…M-Monica Norton…”

“Pleased to meet you!” said Glenn, shaking Monica’s hand up and down before turning to Felix beside her. “And pleased to meet you as well! Are you a third-year?”

Monica’s and Neil’s eyes both went wide. How could someone at this school not know what Felix looks like?! thought Monica, paling… She chose to ignore her own past experience for the moment.

Felix didn’t seem particularly offended, though. He gave Glenn one of his usual calm smiles. “Pleased to meet you, Dudley… I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Felix Arc Ridill, student council president.”

“The student council president?! Wait, wait, are you the prince, then?! That’s crazy!”

“Glenn! Glenn, that’s rude!”

Neil, white in the face, tugged on Glenn’s arm, but Felix smiled gently and said, “Don’t worry about it.” It was very generous—which was to be expected, considering he tolerated Monica’s lack of courtesy every single day.

Felix smiled amicably at Glenn, then said, “Oh, yes,” as though he’d just recalled something. “Craeme, you say? An earth dragon appeared there two days ago. I heard a passing mage worked with the town guard to defeat it… The two of you weren’t caught up in that, were you?”

Monica was not the only one startled by the question. Glenn clearly averted his gaze, then declared in an unnaturally loud voice, “Oh, nah, I was far away from all that!”

…Huh? thought Monica, confused by his attitude. Monica had used her own magecraft alongside Glenn’s that day to slay the earth dragon—she intended for everyone to think Glenn had been the one to defeat it. She’d figured he would go around bragging to everyone in sight.

But he seemed to be trying his best to keep it a secret. Clearly, there was something going on Monica wasn’t aware of. She stared up at him.

Glenn must have noticed her, because he returned her gaze. “Oh, right! Monica, what electives are you taking?”

“Um… I, er… Well…”

“I’m going to bring Lady Norton to the fundamental magecraft class,” answered Felix in her place.

Glenn’s expression immediately brightened. “Hey, Neil and I are headed there, too!”

“What a coincidence. Shall we go together?”

“Sure thing!” said Glenn, energetically taking Felix up on his invitation. It may have been ill-mannered of him, but he had such an affable aura that it was hard to hold it against him.

Monica secretly sighed in relief now that she knew they’d be going with Glenn and Neil. She wasn’t great with big groups, but it was a whole lot easier than walking around with someone as conspicuous as Felix on her own.

When she casually moved behind the group, Glenn followed suit, putting some distance between them and the others before beckoning to her. He seemed to want to talk about something privately.

When Monica looked up at him, Glenn bent over and whispered in her ear. “Hey. Got a favor to ask of you, Monica.”

“Y-yes…?” she replied, straightening up.

Face serious, Glenn continued, “I want you to keep it a secret that I used magecraft in town.”

The magecraft he’d used in town—did he mean the flight spell? Being able to use magecraft at all imparted a certain kind of status, and it was considered an extremely intellectual hobby among nobles. Monica was undercover and concealing her identity, so it made sense to keep her talent a secret, but she couldn’t think of any reason Glenn would want to hide his. It was so strange.

He awkwardly scratched his dirty-blond hair. “I’m actually still just an apprentice. My master told me not to use magecraft without supervision.”

“Huh? Y-you’re an apprentice…?”

If Glenn was an apprentice, then he wouldn’t even have a beginner’s mage certification. But she’d never heard of an apprentice who could use flight magecraft.

At Monica’s surprised expression, Glenn’s face turned grim. “If my master finds out I used magecraft without permission…he’s gonna wrap me up in a mat and hang me from the rafters. Or maybe even throw me in a river…”

“H-he sure sounds scary.”

“Oh, he’s terrifying! So I want you to keep it a secret from everyone else! I’m begging you!” pleaded Glenn, as though this was his last resort.

The plea made Monica feel a sense of kinship with him. She, too, had to hide her magecraft because of her position. She knew her circumstances were different from his, but feeling a sense of closeness anyway, she nodded and said, “I will.”

“You two seem close,” came Felix’s voice from ahead of them.

Monica and Glenn both cringed at the same time. As Monica panicked and struggled to think of an excuse, Glenn made his voice even louder and said, “Yeah! When we met in town, we were totally on the same page! Oh, speaking of”—he turned to Monica—“if you’re taking fundamental magecraft, does that mean you’re interested in it, too?”

“N-n-n-n-n-no, I, um, I…!” she stammered. Felix had coerced her into going to observe the class, but she couldn’t afford to take any magecraft-related electives. “J-just thought I’d, um, go see, that’s all…”

All I have to do is sit in today, then pick something else when the time comes, she told herself.

Felix stopped in front of a classroom—evidently this was where they taught fundamental magecraft.

“Personally, I would highly recommend this class,” explained the prince. “The new teacher is very famous.”

“Th-they are…?”

Monica had a bad feeling about that. I-it’s fine; I’m fine. Nobody at this academy knows who I am. Mr. Louis said he checked beforehand…… Wait, but Felix just said they only arrived recently…

Felix opened the classroom door. At the podium stood a short old man wearing a robe and holding a staff. His eyes and mouth were buried under his sheet-white eyebrows, mustache, and beard. When he looked over, he let out a grunt of surprise.

The moment Monica saw him, she felt the blood drain from her body.

…M-Mr. Macragan—?!

William Macragan, the Waterbite Mage, had once been Monica’s practical magecraft teacher back when she’d attended Minerva’s Mage Training Institution. Monica heard he’d become a professor emeritus around the time she graduated. But now he’s here, teaching at Serendia Academy!

The words mission failed whirled around in her mind. It…it’s over… Everything’s over… Execution… Execution…, she thought, standing there like she was already a corpse.

Macragan looked over at them and, after a few moments, asked, “……Who’s that?”

Felix, in the front, spoke for the group. “I am Felix Arc Ridill, student council president.”

“Ah yes, the student council president… Mm… Thank you for guiding them… Two observers? Three? I’m sorry, but my eyes aren’t that good.”

“Three observers. I’m serving as their guide.”

“Three? I see, I see. Feel free to take a seat anywhere you like.”

His absentminded tone and peculiar way of speaking were just as Monica remembered—his poor vision, too. Now that she thought of it, his eyes had always been bad, ever since she’d known him at Minerva’s.

Could it be that…h-he didn’t notice? Okay. I can still get out of this. Besides, she wasn’t in the academy’s register as Monica Everett but as Monica Norton. As long as nobody yelled out her first name, he wouldn’t realize it was her…

“Hey, Neil! Monica! Over here! There are empty seats over here!”

Ahhhhhh! Monica screamed to herself as Glenn called her over, his voice booming. Her eyes darted to Macragan.

Macragan didn’t appear to be thinking about Monica, though. It seemed he still hadn’t noticed. Trying to soothe her pounding heartbeat, she took a seat next to Glenn. Even Felix, who wasn’t here to observe, plopped himself down in the seat next to her, a look of amusement on his face. She hoped he’d get back to his job of showing students around as soon as possible.

With Monica cowering in her seat, Macragan began his lecture.

“Uhhh, ahem. How to begin? Ah yes. A mage’s aptitude, I suppose. Mages all need to be excellent in three areas: mana capacity, magical formula comprehension, and mana control.”

Macragan wrote all three terms on the blackboard, then circled mana capacity first.

“And the most important is this—one’s mana capacity. Without a decent amount of mana, you can’t use magecraft at all. These days, with the right equipment, we can easily measure a person’s capacity. For apprentices, we would be looking for around fifty, at least. Over a hundred, and you’re fairly talented. With over one hundred and fifty, you could even become one of the Seven Sages.”

Monica’s shoulders jolted at the mention of the Seven Sages. This is so bad for my heart!

“Next is magical formula comprehension… Magical formulae have much in common with mathematics, so many who are skilled at math are also skilled at grasping magical formulae. After all, they are essentially the blueprints and frameworks of magecraft. The more precisely you understand them, the more precise the spells themselves will be.”

Macragan paused there, his eyes growing distant, as though reminiscing about something. “Yes, yes. I once had a student who possessed an outstandingly high level of such comprehension. She understood everything very quickly and eventually learned how to cast spells without even chanting… She’s one of the Seven Sages now. The Silent Witch, they call her.”

Eeeeeep!

“Oh, and incidentally, the Silent Witch along with some of the magical formulae she created will appear on written exams, so be sure to remember them.”

Please don’t!

“Ah yes. It would not be an overstatement to say that she upended the whole of modern magecraft theory—a truly incredible mage.”

That’s definitely an overstatement! she mentally screamed, her face having moved past “pale” and onto “ghostlike.” If she could, she would have fled this very instant.

Next to her, Glenn quietly asked if she was okay. Monica faked a smile and nodded a little—it was all she could manage.

“The last of the three is mana control. This refers to the skill with which one weaves their mana based on magical formulae. It’s something you have a sense for. Those who have the sense can weave their mana without difficulty, but those who don’t will let their mana slip away without ever casting anything. Those who can still use some magecraft despite low comprehension of the formulae are mostly people with excellent mana control. To draw an analogy with architecture, these are the type of people who can put something together even if their blueprints and framework are shoddy. Their spells usually lack polish, however.”

Glenn is probably one of those types, thought Monica to herself. The magecraft she’d seen him use in Craeme had been rough—she could hardly call his magical formulae polished. But because his mana control was excellent, he was still able to master the advanced art of flight magecraft.

“Still, if you want to be a first-rate mage, you would ideally have all three. Well. The most important condition is mana—if you don’t have any, you can’t use magecraft. I’ll be measuring everyone’s mana capacity who wishes to take this class,” said Macragan, setting a crystal ball on the podium.

The crystal was affixed to a metal pedestal, and the pedestal featured a scale that went from 0 to 250.

“This crystal ball is called a mana capacity gauge. When you lay your hand on it, it measures your mana capacity. Just like this, see?”

Macragan set his hand on the crystal ball. It shone with a blue light, and the scale moved to 160. A mana capacity of 160… That was well within the range of a high mage.

“My mana capacity is 160, and the light is blue, which means the element I have the highest affinity with is water… This gauge provides an easy way to understand your magic power. Amazing, right? Now all of you can have a turn.”

……………………………What?

Monica’s heart pounded in her ears.

When measuring mana capacity, those who scored from 1 to 49 were talentless. 50 through 99 put you at an apprentice or lower mage level. 100 through 129 meant you were an intermediate-level mage. 130 and above meant you were a high mage. Almost nobody got over 200.

One of the requirements to join the Seven Sages was a mana capacity of at least 150, and you had to be checked once a year. Because of that, Monica knew exactly what her capacity was.

Wh-when I last measured it, it was…202…

Mana capacity peaked during a person’s late teenage years, so it was possible hers was even higher than that now. Regardless, having a mana capacity of more than 200 meant she was no normal person.

Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-what do I do?!

Monica broke out in a cold sweat and felt her body start to tremble.

Throughout every age, there existed one all-powerful phrase a person could use to get out of any situation: I have to go to the bathroom.

But such omnipotent words were not spoken so easily by everyone. For those with extreme social anxiety, simply saying anything in front of others was a considerable obstacle.

Thus, Monica stayed petrified in her seat, almost managing to say the words before closing her mouth, opening it, then closing it again.

This time I’ll say it. Next time I’ll say it. When there’s a good lull in the conversation, I’ll say it. What constitutes a good lull? Whatever. I’ll just say it. This time, this time for sure… As her mind raced, the mana capacity gauge inched closer and closer. Neil had his hand on the crystal now.

If Monica touched it, everything would be over. They’d know she wasn’t a normal person.

“Officer Maywood,” commented Felix, “it looks like your most compatible element is earth, with a mana capacity of 96. That’s a pretty good number. You’ve never studied magecraft before, have you?”

Felix sounded impressed; Neil gave a sweet smile and said, “I’ve only studied it a little in the classroom. My father is apparently quite talented, though.”

“Ah yes. House Maywood is famed for its generations of powerful earth mages, after all.”

Now. I have to say “I’m going to the bathroom” right now… Ah, but then they’ll think I’m interrupting what Felix is saying, won’t they? Monica hesitated.

“Me next!” said Glenn enthusiastically, reaching for the gauge.

Ahhhh! After Glenn, I’ll be next… I have to get out of here before that happens… She was sweating buckets. Just then, she heard a krrrrk from right next to her.

…“Krrrrk”?

The sound had come from the mana capacity gauge under Glenn’s hand. The portion of the crystal ball he was touching was glowing red, and there was a small crack in it.

“Ah!” Glen cried, just as a much larger crack appeared in the ball. Flustered, he removed his hand.

“Mr. Macragan! This thing’s broken!”

“You’re kidding. How much do you think those cost, young man?”

“Gyah! I-i-i-it wasn’t my fault! It must be defective! Yeah, that’s it!”

Since the crystal had glowed red, that meant Glenn’s most compatible element was fire. The issue was his mana capacity. The gauge had swung all the way to the end. The device’s maximum value was 250, so that kind of reaction must mean he had at least that much…but was such a thing even possible?

One could count the number of people in the kingdom whose mana capacity exceeded 250 on a single hand. Only two of the Seven Sages had that much.

If Glenn’s mana capacity really is over 250, that would be amazing, but… Everyone here seemed to think it was because the gauge had broken. Monica was inclined to agree.

In a panic, Glenn lifted up the gauge and shouted, “This isn’t going to explode, right? We’ll be fine, won’t we?”

The other students all started speaking and looking at Glenn. This was Monica’s chance to escape. She tugged on the hem of Glenn’s uniform and said, “Um, I… I’m going to go to the bathroom!”

“Gotcha!” Glenn nodded, not doubting her in the slightest.

Relieved, Monica snuck out of the classroom.

W-wow, that was close… Monica heaved a very long sigh as she leaned against the wall of the hallway.

But she couldn’t let down her guard. There was still far too much time remaining in the elective observation period. If she didn’t go back to the fundamental magecraft class, Glenn and Felix might get suspicious.

As she trudged down the hallway, she wondered what excuse she could give. At this point, maybe I should just tell them I had a stomachache and was stuck in the bathroom for the whole period… It was a sloppy excuse. Just then, she saw another elective classroom in front of her.

The door had been left open so students could go freely in and out. Curious what class it was, Monica peeked around from behind the door to check.

Is that…chess?

In the classroom, students were silently playing chess. Monica had never played it and didn’t know the rules, but she did know it was a popular tabletop game among nobles.

I didn’t know chess was a class at this school…, she thought, taking out a list from her pocket to check. And there it was, under “electives.” There were quite a few students inside, so she assumed it was a popular class.

I wonder if there are any rules to how you move the pieces. As she absently stared at the nearest table from behind the door, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Well, look who we have here. It’s the prince’s favorite little squirrel, skittering around the halls.”

A young man with drooping eyes and dark-brown hair was looking down at her—it was Elliott Howard.

His eyes narrowed into a mean grin, just as they had when he had mocked her for her lack of cultural refinement earlier.

“Does the little squirrel have an interest in chess? Well, in that case, I’ll show you the ropes.”

“N-no, I… Um—”

Before Monica could turn around and escape, Elliot had grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the classroom. Several of the people playing chess in the room stopped and looked toward Monica. She immediately looked down out of awkwardness.

“Hey, just take a seat right here. How many years have you been playing? …Or do you not even know the names of the pieces?”

“N-no, I don’t know them,” she said, nodding in complete earnestness at Elliott’s mocking words.

He laughed hard enough that his shoulders shook, then he took the seat across from her. “Then let’s start with their names and how to move the pieces. These are pawns. The weakest pieces,” he said, picking up a black piece and a white piece and explaining how they moved.

Monica had scant knowledge of tabletop games like these. It wasn’t that she lacked interest—she’d just never had much chance to play any before. When it came to chess, the most she’d ever done was watch from afar as noble kids played it during her time at Minerva’s.

Once Elliott had finished explaining all the pieces, Monica very hesitantly raised a hand and asked, “…Um, so, this game… What do you have to do to win?”

“Pfft-ha-ha! You really know nothing about this, do you? It’s very simple. You capture the enemy’s king. That’s all,” said Elliott, plucking up the white king and grinning. “Chess is a game of mock war. For nobles like the rest of us, it’s an important hobby for instilling a strategic mindset.”

“…Mock war,” she repeated, looking down at the pieces on the board. “What pieces would magic soldiers be?”

“Probably the bishops. Warrior monks used to be partial to using magecraft.”

“Then the mages—er, warrior monks. Do they have set values for their magecraft power? Like, what magecraft they’re most compatible with, their attack ranges… Oh, and what’s the estimated strength of their defensive barriers? What about the weapons the foot soldiers carry? How much food has been stored in the fortresses?”

“What?” said Elliott, blinking in confusion.

Monica continued prattling on. “Does this mock war have a specific season or climate? Geographical height differences? Which way is the wind blowing?”

Her questions were completely serious, and all Elliott could do for a few moments was let his jaw hang open. Eventually, though, he burst out laughing. “Hold your horses there! The board can’t exactly fit all of that! This is just a game, little squirrel. You talk as though you’ve experienced a real war!”

“…I’ve never, um, been in a war.”

Monica had never participated in a war pitting humans against each other—but she had participated in live combat practice with the Magic Corps alongside the Barrier Mage Louis Miller. Her colleague had made absolutely sure she knew exactly how to read a strategic map before they were through. To fire spells precise enough to shoot down pterodragons in one hit, you needed to know the lay of the land and the direction of the wind.

“…Then the setting of this mock war is a simple flat plain?” asked Monica to make sure. “There are no altitude differences, and the pieces will only move in predetermined ways. There are no negotiations with high-ranking officers—you just kill the king.”

“Y-yeah,” said Elliott, nodding. He looked a little creeped out.

Monica continued to gaze at the board, then declared:

“In that case, it seems easy.”

At Monica’s remark, Elliott narrowed his droopy eyes dangerously, and the corners of his lips pulled up. Ah, what a foolish, shameless little girl, he thought. Without bothering to hide his anger and contempt, he laughed at her. “Do you understand, Lady Norton, that you’ve just made an enemy out of every person in this room?”

Monica didn’t respond. She just continued to gaze at the board in silence.

“Wait, wait. You’re not about to move a pawn one square and tell me how easy it was, are you?”

Monica remained silent. However, Elliott recognized the impassive face she was directing at the game board. It was exactly the same as the one she’d worn when she’d been ordered to review the accounting records.

Monica Norton was a trivial little girl without a noble upbringing. And yet she’d found the perpetrator who had dropped the flowerpot trying to kill Felix, and she’d perfectly reviewed all the accounting records.

Elliott thought for a few moments, then rearranged the pieces on the board Monica was still staring at—to place the white ones in front of her. Her face slowly rose from the board to look at him.

He purposefully assumed an intrepid grin. “Want to try playing a game to see how it goes? I’ll even remove my own queen.”

“…Who goes first?”

“White goes first. Whenever you’re ready,” he said, taking the black queen off the board.

Monica’s eyes widened as she turned her stare on Elliott. “You’re letting me go first?”

“Sure. Go right ahead.” He nodded, face full of confidence, yet feeling a strange sense of unease. Despite being an absolute beginner, Monica had realized that the one to move first in this game had the advantage.

“…All right, then,” said Monica, immediately moving a pawn from the middle of the board forward two spaces.

At first, pawns appeared to have simple rules for how they moved, but they were surprisingly complicated. Usually, they could move only one space forward at a time. But when a pawn was still in its starting position, it was allowed to move two spaces forward instead. It had a different way of moving when taking enemy pieces as well—in those cases, it moved diagonally. And if it got all the way to the end of the board, it could become any other piece.

…I doubt she could have understood it all just with one explanation, thought Elliott. Advancing a middle pawn on the first move was a fairly common play. You had to move the front pieces up early in order to give your rear pieces room to move.

…A well-thought-out play for an amateur, I suppose, he thought, looking coldly down at the board and moving his own piece. The way Monica held the pieces certainly made it clear that she was a beginner. She didn’t really know how to pick them up or place them back down.

And yet, as they continued, she never hesitated when making a move. After Elliott advanced one of his knights, Monica responded immediately.

They were playing this game casually, for enjoyment. They hadn’t decided any time limits for their turns and weren’t keeping track of it.

She could play as slowly as she wanted, giving it a lot of thought. Elliott moved another piece, and Monica, without wasting a moment, made her next move. She was playing so fast, he started to wonder if she wasn’t thinking at all.

…Is she trying to pressure me? …No…

Elliott looked down at the board and frowned. The logic Monica was using to move her pieces seemed like it was straight out of a chess textbook. If it had been anyone else, Elliott wouldn’t have been so surprised. But Monica had just learned the rules a few minutes ago.

…And yet, she’s already grasped this much strategy?

After thinking for a few moments, Elliott made his next move. Monica once again returned fire immediately.

Unable to resist, Elliott said, “We’re not playing with any time limits here. Why not think your moves through?”

“………” Monica didn’t respond—she just stared at the pieces on the board.

Elliott scowled slightly and took his turn. Then Monica took hers right away.

At some point, people began to gather around their table. But Elliott wasn’t paying any attention to their new audience. His gaze was nailed to the board, and his lips, hidden behind one hand, were drawn back in astonishment.

…What is this?

Elliott was one of the three most skilled players in this classroom. He’d given himself a handicap by removing his queen, but he wasn’t pulling any punches. He figured he’d aggressively drive Monica into a corner even with the handicap, then torment her before eventually checkmating her.

And yet, now it seemed he was the one being cornered. It was plain for anyone to see.

Monica wasn’t making any of the surprise moves or odd plays common to beginners. She was playing beautifully, in a model fashion—extremely precise and without any waste. Not only was she predicting all of Elliott’s moves, she was beating them, steadily whittling down his numbers. His downfall was only a matter of time.

…Wait a minute, thought Elliott. As he gazed at the board, he noticed a single way to turn the tide. He still had a king and a rook that hadn’t moved—and nothing between the two of them.

…I can castle here.

Under specific conditions, you were allowed to move both the king and the rook in a single turn. It was a play called castling. He still hadn’t taught Monica what castling was. He’d figured he could easily crush her without needing to use it.

…If I use it now, I can win.

But Monica wasn’t aware of the move.

Should I use it anyway?

His pride made him hesitate.

Would he go on to lose, or would he win by castling, a trick he hadn’t taught her?

The moment his hand stopped, a stir moved through the crowd. They were probably wondering why he wasn’t castling.

Oh, right. They have no idea I didn’t teach it to her.

Once he realized that, his hand moved unconsciously. He took up both his king and one of his rooks…and castled his king.

Monica, who had until now been looking only at the board, blinked and looked up at Elliott.

Stop. Don’t look at me.

He averted his eyes, trying to escape her gaze.

Meanwhile, his lips were already composing an eloquent excuse.

“That was called castling. You can only do it if you have a king and rook that haven’t moved yet, there aren’t any other pieces in the way, and your king isn’t in check—”

“I’ve lost.”

But before he could finish his explanation, she announced her defeat.

“Castle-ing?” she said, trying out the word. “If that’s an official rule, then I can no longer win.”

Elliott was astonished.

Why hadn’t that made the little squirrel angry? He’d just beaten her using a rule he’d never told her about. She had the right to be angry—it wasn’t fair.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t make out the slightest bit of anger on her face as her eyebrows drooped and she began to fiddle with her fingers.

“…I-I’m sorry for calling it easy… Chess is harder than I thought… No matter how optimal your moves, your opponent is human, so…there are a lot of uncertainties involved.”

The winner of this game was Elliott.

But he was left with only the bitter taste of defeat—and self-loathing.

If Monica had criticized him, he might’ve felt a little better about it. He would have been fine with her laying the blame on him, saying it wasn’t fair to use a move he hadn’t taught her. But she didn’t seem to consider it much of a problem—she just lined her pieces back up, her thoughts focused on castling.

Elliott started to say something to her.

He didn’t know if he was about to apologize or ask why she wasn’t angry with him—he just knew he had to say something.

But before he could make a sound, someone else spoke up.

It was a tall man with a shaved head and stern face. He could have been mistaken for a veteran mercenary, but he was—perhaps unbelievably—the chess teacher, Mr. Boyd.

“You, the female student. Your name?”

Monica’s gaze drifted left and right, but there weren’t very many female students in the classroom. And Boyd was looking directly at her.

Under his piercing gaze, she started to shake like a little squirrel that had encountered a much larger animal.

“M-Mo…Moni, Moni, Moni…”

Shaking all over, she tried her best to say her name…but she just kept repeating “Moni” and not getting to the rest of it.

Boyd, who was looking down at her, had more than just stern facial features. His whole body was strongly built with rippling muscles. He looked like someone who should be standing on a battlefield with the enemy general’s head in his hand, not playing with little chess pieces. It was only natural she was terrified.

Elliott sighed in resignation and interrupted her. “Lady Monica Norton. She’s on the student council with me, Mr. Boyd.”

“Understood,” he replied in a deep, echoing voice that seemed to come from the base of his stomach. He placed a piece of paper into Monica’s hand—an elective application form.

Monica, still squeaking out a series of Monis, looked tearfully between the teacher and the application.

Boyd continued, voice firm and clear, “Make sure you join.”

She nodded stiffly, still choking out, “Moni, Moni.”

…I bet she doesn’t even know what he’s saying to her, thought Elliott, sighing to himself and narrowing his eyes in exasperation.