At Grandor Magic Academy, several annexes were connected to the main building by covered corridors.
The one students frequented most was nicknamed the Owl Tower, which housed a vast dining hall. At midday, nearly the entire student body took their meals there.
Funded by noble patronage, the dining hall was extravagantly furnished. The second floor boasted leather-upholstered sofas and polished tables, where no expense had been spared. The opulent decor was especially popular among the sons and daughters of the higher nobility.
Naturally, common-born students and those of lesser rank tended to avoid those seats, and so the second floor had, in practice, become a sort of premium gallery reserved for the upper echelons. A laughably wasteful use of money, in Milly’s eyes.
It was in that second-floor lounge that Milly now found herself at luncheon, seated with Lucius and Gilbert, who had invited her. With a sigh, she jabbed her fork into the salad before her, prompting Gilbert to eye her with a puzzled expression from across the table.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“She’s sulking,” Lucius responded. “First day in Class C and she’s sticking out like a sore thumb.”
Milly would have objected to the word sulking, but it was true she was struggling to make friends. She hadn’t made any progress at all, and perhaps that was why even her salad tasted bland.
“I’m not sticking out,” she said. “I just haven’t settled in yet. That’s all.”
“Same difference. Half the time, when you greet people, they don’t even answer you properly. And when you apologized for bumping into that girl, she bolted out of the room. It was so pitiful, I nearly cried, myself.”
Lucius rubbed at his eyes in an exaggerated gesture of mock tears. Milly didn’t even have the energy to scold him, instead drifting back to her memory of that morning.
The blue-haired girl whose ornament she’d broken had returned with the start of first period—without the glittering hairpiece. Every time Milly tried to apologize, the girl slipped away. By the time she had worked up the nerve to try again, half the day had passed and it was already time for lunch. Her goal of making friends still continued to evade her.
“You know, maybe you don’t need to force yourself quite so hard. There’s no reason to push yourself past your limits like this.”
Gilbert’s worried frown only made Milly pout and turn away. Easy for him to say. Her very life was on the line. She couldn’t afford to take things lightly.
It’s father’s fault. Because of him, people think I’m difficult too.
His Grace Kyle Asteara was treated as little better than a ruling ogre in society.
With his personality, it was hardly surprising. At gatherings, he was said to be utterly overbearing, and once angered—even over trivial matters—he would not relent until the offender offered what he deemed sufficient contrition. For that, he had earned the epithet the Demon Duke.
Among the nobility, “never cross the ducal house” had become common wisdom, and Milly suspected that stigma had bled over onto her as well. A nuisance, through and through.
“Hmph, they’re all just frightened,” said Milly. “It’s not as though I’d run off and tell my father if they looked at me the wrong way.”
“Well, that’s true enough.”
“I’m not close enough with my father to tell him anything in the first place. If someone really irritated me, I’d sooner punch them myself.”
“I think that attitude may be part of the problem,” Lucius muttered, glancing away, as if he were remembering being on the receiving end of an elbow.
Milly gave him a sharp, sidelong look, but before the air could grow heavier, Gilbert dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, his expression softening.
“Still, isn’t it a good thing you’re at least trying to interact with people?”
“I suppose it’s my own fault for never showing my face in society, being the grand duke’s daughter, and all,” she huffed.
“No, that’s not what I meant. I just feel relieved, that’s all. You may look different, but I can see that you’re still kindhearted.”
“What?”
Perhaps aware he’d said something uncharacteristic, Gilbert looked away, a faint flush rising to his cheeks.
Milly, on the other hand, went rigid, dropping her fork in shock. K-Kindhearted? Me?
The final boss she aspired to be was supposed to crush her foes with overwhelming might and manipulate others with merciless cunning. Kindness had no place in that vision. For a so-called final boss to be seen as “kindhearted” was utterly unacceptable. This was dire. Milly’s face drained of color as she flailed for words.
“I-I’m not kindhearted at all! This very morning alone, I didn’t even tell father ‘have a good day,’ I jabbed Lucius in the ribs, and...and I even made Bibi water the plants when I usually do it myself!”
“What exactly are you trying to prove here?” Gilbert asked, baffled.
“That I’m not kind! Right, Lucius?”
“Well, I can confirm the elbow to the ribs hurt. A lot.” Rubbing his side with a faraway look, Lucius seemed to feel the ache all over again.
Milly let out a breath of relief. That had been close. She was aiming to become the final boss. She couldn’t allow herself to accidentally be mistaken for a good person.
“Either way, you should make friends at your own pace. You’ll be busy enough with the student council soon,” Gilbert said with a weary sigh. Milly realized she had nearly forgotten. Tomorrow was the first meeting of the council.
“Ah, right, and isn’t there a tea party to prepare for too?” Lucius added.
“There is,” Gilbert replied. “Even if it’s just part of the duties, it feels like a heavy burden.”
That caught Milly’s attention. “You say there’s a tea party coming up?”
“Wait, you didn’t know that?”
“Was I supposed to?”
Her confusion was genuine, but Lucius looked at her as if she’d said something unbelievable. She, in turn, stared back as if to say he was the unbelievable one, and a few seconds of silence stretched between them.
She had, after all, spent three years at the academy in the previous timeline, yet she had no memory whatsoever of any school tea party. And from the sound of it, this one might even be a regular event.
“Seriously? Every first-year classroom is buzzing with nothing but that right now.”
“Are they?”
“Of course. Milady, just how little interest do you take in those around you?” Lucius recoiled as though he were looking at a traitor to the realm.
Gilbert promptly elbowed him, his tone reproachful. “Enough. Don’t be so harsh. It’s not surprising that Milly wouldn’t know.”
“Oh, come on. For a Grandor student not to know about the tea party, that’s just...”
“Don’t underestimate how much of a shut-in Milly was, you fool. This is the girl who might not even be able to recite the order of noble ranks.”
“What?” Lucius stared at her openly, unable to hide his disbelief.
The look grated on Milly’s nerves. “So what? There’s nothing wrong with not knowing about some tea party.”
“Ah, don’t sulk! My apologies, I was just teasing!”
Lucius leaned forward in flustered apology as Milly pursed her lips. It wasn’t as though she lacked interest in those around her. Information simply had a way of never reaching her.
“Really, Lucius, enough. Don’t mock the grand duke’s daughter,” Gilbert added.
“For the record, nine-tenths of the blame lies with you,” Milly shot back.
“What?”
He had meant to sound supportive, but in the end, Gilbert’s words had been the crueler of the two. Compared to Lucius’s teasing, his “defense” might actually have been worse.
“Anyway, milady, when it comes to not knowing the order of ranks...”
“Gilbert was joking! What do you take the daughter of the grand ducal house for?”
“As expected. If that were true, I’d have to reconsider pledging my loyalty.”
As if he had any loyalty to begin with. If the ever-serious Joseph were to hear such words from his son, he would probably collapse foaming at the mouth.
“So then, what exactly is this tea party? Some sort of school event?”
That was the real point of Milly’s interest.
The two of them laid it all out in detail. The tea party was an annual tradition held to mark the admission of new students. It involved nothing more than gathering around tea and cake to chat, but since it was the first real chance to mingle with upperclassmen, the first-years all looked forward to it. A charming little event.
“The student council runs the whole thing. We have to oversee everything, from setting up the venue to choosing what cakes will be served. The event itself is in around two weeks.”
“I see.”
“And tomorrow’s the first council meeting, remember? Without a doubt, it’ll be about the tea party. Ugh, just thinking about it tires me out.”
A tea party meeting, then. Where the other two sounded weary at the thought, Milly’s eyes lit up. “That sounds delightful. It means we’ll be working together as a council.”
“And?”
“I’ve always longed for something like that. I’ll have to start looking for cakes we could serve tonight.”
“Where does this enthusiasm even come from?” Lucius muttered.
It was obvious, of course: her desire to make friends. In her mind’s eye, she could already see her suggested pastries showered with praise.