Simon had exactly 20 Gold to his na. It was a substantial sum that Richard had surely struggled to provide, but if it wasn’t enough...
"Since you are a guest of the esteed Lady Lorraine, I will give you the price without any haggling," Stephanie said politely. "It is 5,000 Gold."
"...What?"
Simon felt as if the world was collapsing around him. That was several years’ worth of Leshill’s entire budget... "I’ll take it," Lorraine said, pulling out her wallet.
A brilliant smile blood on Stephanie’s face as the two won started toward the counter.
"Wait a minute!" Simon cried out.
"What’s wrong?"
"Y-You can’t do this! It’s 5,000 Gold! I can’t accept such an extravagant gift!"
Lorraine tilted her head. "Didn’t my mother tell you? She’s the one buying it."
"...You an Nephthys?"
"Yeah." Lorraine tapped a finger to her lips, thinking. "I don’t know the full story, but she said she owes your parents a great debt. It’s sothing they arranged, so she told you shouldn’t feel burdened by it."
"Oh..."
After a brief, one-sided argunt, Simon finally relented and accepted the Subspace ring.
"Thank you for your patronage! Visit us again!" Stephanie and her staff bowed deeply as Simon and Lorraine exited the shop.
Back in the sunlight, Simon stared, srized, at the ring glittering on his finger.
’To think this is mine.’ He was so happy he could barely keep a straight face.
"Do you like it that much?" Lorraine teased.
"...Haha." Simon let out an embarrassed laugh. "I feel like I’m deeply indebted to you. I don’t know how I can ever repay Lady Nephthys..."
"Don’t worry about it," Lorraine said, waving a hand. "If there’s one thing my mom wants, it’s for you to survive Kizen."
"Got it! I’ll do my very best!"
Their shopping continued. They bought notebooks, writing tools, a lamp, and other necessities for his new life, as well as a starter skeleton set and various alchemical ingredients, all of which he promptly stored in his new Subspace. Lorraine explained that while he could buy supplies in the city just outside Kizen, the prices there were exorbitant.
"Simon! Let’s go do that!" Lorraine pointed.
"...Is throwing darts also part of our admission preparations?"
"Nope! We’re just having fun!"
Though they took a few detours, she was an excellent guide.
"We will light it now."
"Okay! Now!"
From the Langerstine observatory, Simon and Lorraine released their lantern. It soared into the night, joining a sea of others rising from the crowd below. The sky was transford into a srizing, crimson-hued constellation of man-made stars. The crowd, caught up in the magic of the mont, cheered and applauded, while couples used the romantic atmosphere as their cue to kiss.
"This is the Thousand Lights, a must-see spot in Langerstine," Lorraine announced, hands on her hips, a proud smile on her face. "What do you think, Simon?"
"Can I be honest?"
"Of course."
His eyes still fixed on the breathtaking display, Simon replied, "I was just thinking that there are a thousand suckers here willing to spend 200 Silver on a piece of flammable oil paper."
She shot him a dumbfounded look. "You’re going to fit in perfectly at Kizen."
"Thank you. I’ll do my best to..."
"That wasn’t a complint!"
For their final stop, they went to a restaurant with a stunning view of the sea. A lavish chandelier dripped crystals from the ceiling, the silverware glead, and waiters in crisp uniforms attended the tables. Simon had never been anywhere so fancy. The food was beyond description; the mont the glistening steak touched his tongue, a wave of pure bliss washed over him. The picturesque night sea was visible just past the window, and the soothing sound of crashing waves filled the air. It was, in a word, perfect.
"You handle the silverware quite well. You are nobility, after all," Lorraine remarked, resting her chin on her hand.
"My father was strict about etiquette."
"He taught you well. Oh, and just so you know, about thirty percent of the students at Kizen are commoners." She dabbed her lips with a napkin. "You can’t throw your status around. Kizen is a strict ritocracy. Even a duke’s daughter has to bow to her commoner seniors. It’s best to think of everyone as equals."
Simon nodded, promising to rember her words. He’d never had a problem getting along with people in Leshill, noble or commoner, so he wasn’t worried.
"Tomorrow’s the big day. Ask anything you want."
"Hmm... oh! I t another new student this morning, and we talked about majors."
"Majors? Good question." Lorraine’s smile was bright. "You’ll take nine required subjects in your first sester. From the second sester on, you can choose your classes, and when you beco a sophomore, you have to choose a major."
"So I’ll need to figure out what I’m good at quickly."
"Exactly!" Her eyes glead like a strategist’s as she twirled her fork. "It’s best to pick a main subject early, even in the first sester, and focus on it. When it cos to group projects, students with a clear specialty are always in high demand."
"I’ll keep that in mind."
"Have you thought about any majors?"
Simon’s mind flashed back to that morning—the scattered bone fragnts rising from the trash, clicking together to form an undead. The image was seared into his mory.
"...I think I might be interested in Summoning."
"Summoning is a great choice! Going for the orthodox path, I see."
Lorraine launched into a detailed explanation of the various subjects, and Simon listened with rapt attention. He found it easy to talk to—or rather, to listen to her. She, in turn, seed to appreciate his attentive silence. Reluctant for the night to end, they continued their conversation at a nearby pub, then another. It was Simon’s first ti drinking. He’d hesitated, being a minor, but Lorraine assured him Kizen students were permitted to drink.
Still, with the entrance ceremony the next day, they stopped when they were both pleasantly buzzed. The night stretched on, and it was just after midnight when Simon finally returned to his lodging.
"Thank you for walking back, Lorraine."
"It was nothing."
"Um..." Simon blushed, scratching the back of his head. "I really should have been the one walking you ho..."
"Hm?" Lorraine blinked, then a sly smile spread across her face. "So you were aware?"
He cleared his throat.
"I appreciate the thought," she said. "But Langerstine is a complicated city. Forget walking ho, you wouldn’t have been able to find your way back here alone."
He couldn’t argue with that.
"Go on, get so rest. If I hear you were late tomorrow because you were drinking, my mom will have my head."
"Right. Thank you for everything today! I had a wonderful ti." Simon bowed deeply. It had been more than just wonderful; he knew he would never forget his first day in Langerstine.
As she walked away, waving, she suddenly stopped and turned back. "Ah! Simon. There’s sothing I have to confess."
"Yes?"
Looking uncharacteristically shy, Lorraine tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn’t an to trick you, I just... missed the right ti to say it. Um..."
He waited for her to continue.
Their eyes t, and she gave him a playful wink.
"Actually, I’m a freshman, too!"
"...Wh-What?"
"So drop the formalities when we see each other at school. See ya!" She waved and vanished into the darkness.
Simon was left speechless.
Staring blankly at the spot where she had disappeared, Simon chuckled and headed inside.
---
Dawn broke. Lorraine had told him to rest, but Simon hadn’t slept a wink, his mind buzzing with excitent for his new life. He rose early, prepared himself, and left the inn. Lorraine was taking a different route to Kizen, so he had to find the assembly point on his own. He knew the location well—a pointed spit of land jutting out toward the sea, visible from the restaurant they’d visited.
As he neared the point, the streets grew more crowded. Most were his age, each one a distinct character. A fairy girl adjusted her makeup as she walked; a boy bristled with twenty swords, his body a walking armory; a girl strolled casually, a massive case larger than herself strapped to her back.
’I guess I’m the most normal one here,’ Simon thought, though in reality, every student there was likely thinking the sa thing.
He soon reached the assembly point. Servants dispatched from Kizen were directing the crowd, and a large ship was docked at the end of the promontory. It seed that was their transport.
"Please hurry! We will be departing for Kizen shortly!" a servant called out.
Simon got in line to board. He found it odd that the ship’s hull was facing the land instead of the sea, but he couldn’t guess why.
"Proof of admission, please."
It was his turn. He presented the letter. The servant cross-referenced it with a list, made a check with a quill, and handed it back.
"Simon Polentia. Confird."
"Thank you."
Having passed, Simon was about to step onto the walkway when a commotion erupted from the adjacent line.
"I’m telling you, this is a mistake!" a boy shouted. "I’m first on the waiting list! How can there not be a single dropout?"
"I’m sorry, sir. A Lucius is not on the admission list."
"Fucking hell, is this how you do your job? Contact Kizen! There has to be a mistake!"
A few students boarding the ship snickered.
"Happens every year, I heard."
"Always a few who can’t accept the reality."
"First on the waiting list? Kinda pathetic."
The tense situation finally exploded. The agitated Lucius shoved the servant to the ground. "I am Lucius Karol, heir to a count of the Dresden Kingdom! This is an order! Contact Kizen headquarters now!"
"Please leave, sir. You are not on the admission list," the servant repeated, his tone firm and unwavering.
Face contorted with rage, Lucius grabbed the servant by the hair. The crowd murmured, the atmosphere growing uglier. Students paused on the gangplank to watch, so already gathering the faint shimr of Jet-Black around their hands. Just as the bloodshot-eyed Lucius raised his fist—
"Stop it."
Lucius’s head whipped around. Simon had moved behind him and now had a firm grip on his arm.
"Who the hell are you? Let go!"
Simon just smiled faintly and squeezed.
"Aaaargh!"
Lucius shrieked, his body twisting like a pretzel under the impossible pressure. There was no way a pampered young noble could withstand the strength Simon had honed through years of hard labor.
His body sagged until he was forced onto one knee. His grip on the servant’s hair went slack, and Simon released his arm. Lucius scrambled backward, clutching his now-crimson wrist.
"Who the fuck are you!" he scread. "You wanna die, you bastard?"
When Simon didn’t respond, he drew the sword at his hip. The murmurs intensified as the situation spiraled.
"What is going on here?"
A man was approaching from the ship. His face was as pale as a man battling a long illness, his cheeks were hollow, and his hair was flecked with gray. The students around them gasped in hushed admiration.
"I-It’s Professor Silage!"
"...Silage is on the faculty? Kizen is really on a whole other level."
At his approach, even the belligerent Lucius faltered. Silage’s gaze swept slowly over the scene: the disheveled servant on the ground, the student who had intervened, and the noble screaming about his place on a list. His eyes, devoid of any emotion, settled on Lucius.
"Any last words?"
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