Chapter 8 Academy
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”…Why is your face the first thing I see two mornings in a row…”
”…You’re saying that to me?”
Getting greeted like that, the morning after alcohol and our first real time together outside her frenzy, was cruel. Her cheeks were faintly red, her eyes foggy, like she’d forgotten last night’s mumbling.
”…Anyway. Gotta shower…”
”Yeah, you smell pretty bad…”
We gathered our clothes, tossed them in the laundry. I sent her to the bath first, then threw together toast, coffee, and plain omelets—simple fuel.
By the time she came out, toweling her hair, she frowned.
”…Why are you cooking dressed like that?”
”It makes showering easier after, alright? I’ll go wash up now—start eating without me.”
Truth was, I’d cooked naked. Not my brightest move. Apron fanservice? With her, I’d probably get *Lonisera* pointed at me.
This world’s tech: no cars or phones, but working showers, toilets, fridges. Arcane Guns and magic armor instead of rifles or tanks. Different, but balanced. I thought about it while enjoying the shower, then came back dressed.
She was still waiting, untouched food in front of her.
”…Come on, sit already.”
”…Didn’t I tell you to start without me?”
I laughed, sat. We gave thanks and ate. Toast and egg for me, her sandwiching lettuce and omelet. We finished, washed up, brushed our teeth, then headed out.
No uniforms at the Academy, only Student Identification Plates—sorcery keys doubling as IDs. My gear was in my Inventory. She wore her usual exploring outfit with her cap; her gunbelt and *Lonisera* tucked away to avoid trouble.
The walk was twenty minutes of easy chatter. Ahead, the Academy: white-stone fortress turned school, sustained by ancient enchantments and a colossal Mana Reactor. Inside, bright magical lamps lit brick-paved halls. Lower years near the front, upper years near training grounds and workshops.
Lockers lined the corridors, opened by our plates. With sorcery locks and Orichalcum latches, theft wasn’t a worry.
”Morning-ssu.”
”Hey.”
We exchanged greetings, drew glances.
”Yo!”
The same idiot who’d bought my iron sword waved.
”Mornin’-ssu. Lookin’ lively.”
”Hey. Morning.”
”Man, you two are always close. Oh, and thanks for the sword—tried it already, fits better than the others.”
She tolerated him. His hopeless cheer made him safe.
”You already tested it? Did you adjust the grip? You just grabbed it and ran off.”
”Of course I did. No one gets this far without the basics. A weapon only really fits if you tune it yourself.”
Fair point. Idiot, but serious.
”Oh, right—if you want me to forge something, bring enough iron ore for at least one weapon. Merchant guild says that’s the minimum skill level before Explorers can request work.”
”Oh yeah? Then I’ll come ask for a knife sometime.”
”Sure. I’ll make you a good one—perfect backup when things go bad.”
We grinned at each other. Easy, natural.
”Uh, hey—fun as this is, class is starting soon.”
She cut in, exasperated. He gave her a knowing look, muttered “later,” and left. Almost like he could read her feelings.
Classes weren’t hard. Six years primary, three middle, one or two upper. Upper years focused on Explorer and Crafter practice: skills, Dungeon traps, race countermeasures. Admin and shop theory? Guilds handled that. For me, Dungeon knowledge mattered more.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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