“I’m used to it now, though,” he said. He mentioned that my rather simple breakfast was plenty lavish enough on its own.
“You should visit and grab a bite sometime,” I offered.
“I’d love to, but if I sneak out of the dorms before the bell for classes rings, I’ll get punished,” Ehr grumbled.
“I see… I didn’t know that there were so many rules like that.”
Prince Rena used magic scrolls liberally to get around campus, but I suspected that she was a special case that gave her a bit more freedom than others.
“Then I’ll make you a bento next time,” I said.
“A ben-toe? What’s that?” Ehr asked.
The commoner way was to eat a meal or two at most; it was common to skip lunch, and thus, no one really brought a packed lunch. I feel like in my past life, Japanese people often carried bentos around, but other nations tended toward eating at the employee cafeteria or just bringing something basic. Not that I can speak to everyone out there.
“A bento is a packed lunch,” I explained. “We can place homemade dishes into a container and carry them around to eat in the afternoon.”
“Huh… I had no idea that nobles had that sort of culture,” Ehr remarked.
“It’s not really a noble custom either. I think it’s a foreign one.” I told him I had read about it in a book, hoping to hide the fact that I retained memories from a past life.
“A bento… Sounds nice,” he said. “I’ve heard that the bread at the school store’s super competitive and hard to buy. A bento will let me spend some lunches in peace without any worries.”
The cafeteria was expensive, and everyone wanted bread. A bento was the solution to both concerns.
“I can make you a bento for tomorrow,” I offered.
“Really?” Ehr asked. “But no, I’d feel bad for imposing…”
“Okay, then in exchange, um, can I see your notes and stuff?”
Ehr was actually quite the studious type. He would study in the mornings and receive some tips from private instructors.
“Deal!” Ehr said with a grin.
And with that, he happily lent me his notes.
Professor Whipp, as gorgeous as always, finally arrived at our class. Both the boys and girls of our class were captivated by her, but the professor, perhaps used to enthralled gazes, paid them no heed. She expertly pushed homeroom along until it got to the topic of picking a class representative.
After a quick round of voting, Prince Rena amassed the majority vote. The other boys seemed vexed by the outcome, but the royal had excellent grades and was kind. She was popular. No one was confident they could win against her. Once that was decided, the professor handed us some sheets of paper. These documents discussed how our classes would be going forward and included a questionnaire about our future.
First-years were taught the basics of magic, divided into five subjects: general magic, history of magic, magical formulas, potions, and classical magic. We spent one year hammering these basic principles into our heads before we moved on. In our second year, we were allowed to freely choose what to study out of over ten different subjects based on what we wished to be in the future. For example, an aspiring magic knight would learn magical techniques and magical martial arts required for combat, while a hopeful royal apothecarist would learn advanced potions and herbal foraging.
We had to choose our future courses during our first year and submit our choices to our homeroom professor. We were allowed to have up to three potential career paths, but I only had one that I set my heart on—a royal witch.
Only the best of the best could become a royal witch or wizard following graduation from school, and it was a highly competitive field. I was determined to study hard for the next three years and become a splendid royal witch of my own. I was quick to jot down my desires, and I was idly sitting at my desk with time to spare when someone poked my back with their quill—Ehr.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“I’m just at a loss,” Ehr admitted. “I don’t know what to write down for my future.”
Ehr was born and raised in the slums downtown. He hardly had any ties to magic throughout his life; the thought of getting a job with magic was baffling to him.
“I can tell you about potential opportunities in the library,” I said.
“Really?” Ehr asked.
“Of course.”
And so, we agreed to head to the library to find books on different jobs in the magic industry after he made a beeline for the store to buy some bread for lunch.
Our first class of the day was general magic, where we learned the basics of magical properties. Our professor was the middle-aged man with spectacles that I met during the interview phase of the entrance exam—Professor Girm.
“You will learn the origins and development of magic in the history of magic,” he said. “For today’s lesson, you will cast a few charms as you learn. If you have any questions, be sure to ask your private instructor once you return to your dorms.”
This lesson wasn’t kind enough to answer any of our questions along the way. It felt like a private instructor was required—Professor Girm quickly went through the lesson, explaining certain concepts without ever stopping for a breath, and erased the notes he had written on the blackboard to add new ones. I could barely keep up. If I didn’t have the notes that Ehr let me copy, I would’ve been left behind.
“Before I let you all go, I’d like to do a little pop quiz,” Professor Girm said. “There’ll be a writing and practical component.”
“E-Eep!” I let out a small shriek. Luckily, the professor didn’t hear me, but Ehr most certainly did, and he glanced my way, concerned.
“You all right?” he whispered.
“P-Perhaps not,” I stammered back.
The lesson was far more difficult than I expected, but those in the dorms had a safety net—they could ask their private instructors if they wanted. I had no such luxury; I had to go about this alone, and I had my own limits, no matter how hard I tried. I had to do something, lest it be too late and my grades become unsalvageable, but when I took the written part of the quiz, I felt like I understood seventy percent of the questions. I hung in there. Barely.
The practical portion required students to call forth a staff from afar. This was an application of the charm I used during the entrance exam, Levitate. As classmates and the professor watched on, I called for the staff.
“Return to my hand! Levitate!” I chanted.
The staff jumped up and flew out like a rocket.
“Ack!” I cried.
I crouched in place and tried to protect my head, unable to handle the speed, and the staff whizzed past me. Did it sink into the wall behind me? I wondered. But when I whirled around, Gem had caught it for me, and Professor Girm watched the entire event as he gave me a grade.
“Thirty-five points out of a hundred,” he barked.
“F-Fair…” I murmured.
Honestly, that was a pretty reasonable mark, and I noticed that out of all of our classmates, only Prince Rena, Alice, and Ehr managed to catch the staff.
“You’re amazing,” I said.
“Heh heh, I practiced in the dorms with my private instructor!” Ehr boasted.
It became painfully apparent how detrimental it was to have no one to teach me.