Marina held up her weapon as she spoke her lines, smooth and confident. Cheers erupted.
“You’re wonderful, Lady Marina!”
“Your costume suits you so well! How awe-inspiring!”
We’d come a long way in our preparations and were now tweaking the final details of the play. The sewing team had nearly finished the costumes, and the actors had learned their lines. We were on the dress-rehearsal stage.
Marina’s outfit was dominated by red to match her fiery hair streaked with gold. Because she had many action scenes, I’d known she’d need to wear masculine clothes, but I’d given the sewing team freedom to design them. They’d ended up producing exotic baggy pants that were tight at the ankles. Marina had a great figure and legs for days, so the pants enhanced her silhouette while concealing her shape, preserving her dignity as a noble lady. They were also easy to move in. Her upper garment was a long vest embroidered in gold that fluttered with every motion and made the action scenes look even cooler.
Athletic as ever, Marina swished her long staff with ease. It was loosely inspired by Sun Wukong’s magical weapon in Journey to the West. She had cast away her five-strong army of kittens and seemed delighted to run freely across the stage. I enjoyed watching her have fun, and her chemistry with Flora, the saint in pure white, was perfect.
Marina had always been popular with girls, and her current outfit had the class’s girls squealing nonstop. She seemed pretty pleased with herself—very pleased—judging by her grin, which provoked another round of squeals. I felt as though I were watching a performance by a certain all-female musical theater troupe.
A true gem she is.
I remembered thinking Empress Magdalena resembled a certain theater star when I first met her. I wondered if she’d been admired by her female classmates just as Marina was. Apparently, the emperor had once been desperate for her to look his way. How had he felt watching other girls fawn over Magdalena? I had a hard time picturing our dignified emperor as a lovestruck teenager struggling for his crush’s attention.
By the way, I’d named Sun Wukong “Goku,” his Japanese name, because it was easier for the empire’s people to pronounce.
“You’ve made the role your own, Lady Marina,” I told her. “What a dependable performer you are!”
“Oh ho ho! You can count on me!” Marina laughed loudly as she waved the tail sewn onto her costume. Clearly, the five kittens had made way for five monkeys—though, according to her brother, she hardly needed them, being naturally monkey-like.
Jokes aside, I was glad we’d finished in time.
The play now fit within the allotted time, but achieving that had not been easy. I’d given the matter a lot of thought, and had scrapped the final group-song scene entirely. Cutting lines or adjusting action scenes risked confusing the actors, so I’d chosen the cleaner solution.
The costumes, backdrops, and props were nearly complete, and Yuri had a good grasp on what he ought to do with his light mana. He’d worked tirelessly to implement everyone’s ideas, with magnificent results. For instance, he used light to make Olga’s follower appear as a shadow at first, heightening the impact.
Olga’s singing, accompanied by Renato, was equally incredible. Each rehearsal drew crowds to our classroom’s window, and silence fell as she sang. When the song ended, I always heard at least a few sniffles. The song had already become a student favorite.
See how amazing our Olga is?! I boasted inwardly every time.
Our classmates reveled in the attention, and the atmosphere was wonderful. Everyone had fun and contributed ideas enthusiastically instead of leaving decisions to me alone, which I greatly appreciated. Thanks to them, I felt less like the lady of a ducal house and more like a regular student among equals! I loved it.
That said, our class wasn’t the only one garnering attention. Mikhail’s did as well. He’d gone to the kitchen after school to practice cooking, and stories of the prince in an apron had spread across the academy at the speed of light. A huge crowd had rushed to catch a glimpse.
I still remembered a classmate bursting in, screaming, “His apron is blue!!!”
That’s the important part?! I’d thought—but apparently the color was cause for excitement. Ah, youth...
To be fair, I was sure the blue apron suited him. I was even a little curious to see it myself.
Surprisingly, the dark horse was Lydia’s class.
Raised to care deeply about rank, Lydia had long ignored the petty nobles that made up the majority of her class. She’d shocked everyone by declaring she wanted the entire class to perform as a choir for the festival. In true Lydia fashion, she was quite assertive.
As the daughter of a marquess, Lydia was the highest-ranking lady in her class. Her classmates had accepted the choir idea as a matter of course, and she’d been given the solos. At first, her classmates had kept their distance from her, but it seemed most had become huge fans after hearing her sing during rehearsals.
Some had started looking down on her, just as I feared. Lydia had devoted years to being noticed by the God of Music, only for that honor to fall to her vassal, Olga. That fact hadn’t gone unnoticed, but Lydia silenced her detractors with flawless singing. Students often spied on other classes’ rehearsals, so Lydia had gradually gained fans outside her own class. Her long effort spoke for itself.
Needless to say, our seniors had their share of popular students too.
My brother didn’t involve himself in his class’s productions; Nikolai had taken charge instead. They had planned mock jousting matches in full armor. Nikolai was popular, so I expected his matches would attract large crowds.
To be honest, I totally wanted to watch a few matches myself.
Mounted knights in full armor, lances at the ready...! It sounded so cool! My history-buff blood boiled at the thought.
I loved the bubbly atmosphere and energy that had taken over the academy. The festival was almost here, and I could hardly wait.