We follow the principal, who seems to be taking us to the staff room. With the ceremony in progress, the hallways and classrooms are currently devoid of students. We look around as we walk. This place smells so nostalgic...
“I forgot how lovely that garden fountain was!” Benjamine exclaims, pointing at the fountain of the Goddess outside the window.
Standing beside her, Satanás looks awkward. Nikeh and I know why.
“It’s where Benjamine invited him for a dance,” says Nikeh.
“Yep,” I reply.
It’s safe to say that place was a turning point in their lives. If he hadn’t accepted her invitation back then at the pregraduation dance party, things could’ve gone very differently. Though it’s not like she wouldn’t have been able to handle a rejection. Knowing her, she wouldn’t have given up so easily, so I’m not particularly worried. Still, that place definitely holds an important memory for them.
“Maybe it’s rash to feel this way, but I’m having fun,” Prince Zenon mutters behind us as we walk with grins on our faces.
“Come again?” I reply.
“Walking the hallways with my friends like this. Though I know I can’t keep feeling this way forever—like I’ve come back to my childhood.”
Looking behind me, I see him staring at the ceiling and smiling.
“I’ve never had the opportunity to walk the hallways with you, Your Highness, so this is new to me,” says Nikeh, falling a step behind to align herself with the prince.
“Right, you were in the next class.”
“That’s right. Though maybe I would’ve felt too awed by your presence to approach you even had we been in the same class.”
“Really? You’ve got a steely disposition, so I doubt it would’ve gone that way...”
“Is that supposed to mean I’m frigid and inflexible?” replies Nikeh, extreme discontent written on her face as she thrusts out her lower lip.
Seeing that, the prince presses the back of his hand to his mouth and holds back his laughter.
Frankly, I think Nikeh would’ve been fine being by his side as a friend. She’s pretty resilient, mentally speaking. Back in those days I had to deal with the stares of the prince’s fan club pricking at my back like countless invisible needles, so it wasn’t often I managed to go up to the prince and speak to him. Even so, I think we were close enough friends back then. Rockmann’s fan club was pretty different in that its members were far more aggressive (causing me overwhelming stress)—they had a way of filling my school life with terror.
“We’re here,” announces the principal.
We come upon a single-board door, no different from those leading to classrooms. The stone sign on the wall says “Staff Room.”
“The teachers aren’t here yet, so take a seat wherever you like.”
As he says, the room’s deserted.
“I intend to briefly introduce you to the teachers. You will have to use different names. Do you plan to keep your looks?”
“I don’t know...” I reply.
It doesn’t seem like such a good idea to walk around as I am. I’m still wearing my white Harré uniform, so I snap my fingers to change into a green dress.
“I think it’ll be easier to get Treyse to show herself if we stay like this,” states the prince. “Nanalie, keep your hair color.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s the best way of provoking her. I’m sure she’ll immediately panic once she sees your blue hair.”
He’s right—it would be a good way of luring her into the open. It’s tiring to keep magical effects on yourself anyway, so that makes things easier for me.
Still, I don’t know where Treyse is right now, but if I go in front of everyone like this, won’t my twelve-year-old self realize I’m her from the future when she sees that we’re like two peas in a pod? The only difference between us is my hair color, and even that difference will disappear eventually. Well, I guess it’ll be half a year until that happens, so maybe it’ll be fine... Or not...
There’s a few remaining concerns, but we’re here to catch Treyse, so I can’t afford to hesitate now.
“Say, will they really all forget about us? Even the principal?” asks Benjamine quietly, facing the Time Keeper in her arms.
“Well, not completely. Everything new will be something that actually happened, but something they will find very hard to remember.”
That’s pretty complicated. The fact they’ll be able to remember us at all is worrying enough.
“There are no classes specific to magic types yet, so you may spread out over the three classrooms and act as assistant teachers there. Hel, you will assist Mr. Bordon. Brunel and Satanás, you will assist Mr. Bevrio. Feltina and Your Highness, assist Mr. Chute.”
“You want me to help Bevrio?! That guy’s such a tightass!” complains Satanás, frowning deeply.
This “Bevrio” is popular with the female students. Though an adult, he’s a bit of a gaudy-looking flirt with his hairdo characterized by a long hairline at the nape, as well as his crisp-looking brows and the several earrings he wears. Despite his appearance, however, he’s a surprisingly ardent teacher who patiently helps his students get the hang of magic.
Other teachers would pretty much leave Satanás alone if, during class, they woke him up a few times and he just kept going back to sleep (Mr. Bordon never woke him up or said anything at all), but Mr. Bevrio was different. Until Satanás managed to stay awake, he would keep poking the top of his head, and sometimes even use magic to make Satanás float. If you ask me, Mr. Bevrio’s teaching style is completely sensible—hardly strict at all. The weird one is this guy in front of me.
“Don’t you go telling the teachers you have come from the future. Remember, you are assistants I have brought in on my own authority.”
“Yes, sir!” I reply.
As we wait in the staff room, the teachers return from the entrance ceremony. Before I know it, the principal has sold the other teachers on his story, which they readily accepted pretty much on blind faith. It’s decided; we start teaching tomorrow.
“Looking forward to working with you,” says Mr. Bordon, his appearance rather young for someone I haven’t seen in years.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Is this your first time teaching children, Miss Natolie?”
“Yes, sir. I’m nervous.”
I spent the night in the teachers’ dorm and headed to the classroom come morning. Mr. Bordon keeps talking to me on the way, seeming intent on helping me relax. These hallways are so long you get tired just from walking, which also gives him plenty of time to burn through a lot of conversational material.
Our cover story goes like this: we’re five students of the royal teaching school who have come for our internship with the principal’s approval. The principal came up with all the fine details himself, and he’s also the one who came up with our aliases. Impressive, considering he did it all overnight. He was trembling with excitement when he told us about it in the morning—perhaps he’s the sort of guy who loves this cloak-and-dagger business.
“Oho ho ho, I am.”
...Is what he was clearly thinking inside his mind, but instead, he simply said, “I am,” with a gentle expression. Truly, he’s a mystery wrapped in an enigma (I’d wager good money he’s an elderly fairy in human guise).
My alias is Natolie Proserpina. Nikeh’s is Yuno Ortega. The prince became Jupiter Torseter. Satanás is now Perseus Gallo, and Benjamine goes by Andromeda Boyes. The principal even went so far as to come up with our hometowns and academic histories. All this makes me slightly suspicious of his having done this kind of fabrication before, and on more than one occasion, without batting an eye.
“’Tis not something I do on a regular basis,” he’d said with a smile, apparently sensing my doubts about him.
I decide to set aside these inappropriate thoughts.
Parting with my friends was disheartening and put me on the verge of tears, but visiting a place that used to be so familiar has a way of quickly releasing your tension.
Mr. Bordon’s class is the one I am in. Rockmann is there too, of course. And the old Satanás and Maris. If nothing’s changed yet, Treyse should be in an adjacent class, the one headed by Mr. Bevrio.
“My class has many noble children, so it might be difficult for you to handle them, but remember: we are the mentors here on school grounds. Act confident.”
“Yes, sir!”
Mr. Bordon has the level of composure required of someone entrusted with our class. He always brought us a sense of security.
“There are also only two commoners in my class, so you have to be careful to maintain the mood. Some will no doubt act high-handed, and I imagine giving them a good scolding would only make things worse. Let us treat the nobles and the commoners equally and lead by example, showing that one isn’t superior to the other.”
“...Thank you kindly.”
“Hm? What are you thanking me for?”
“Nothing, never mind! You’re right, let’s do that.”
So that was his way of thinking... I find myself deeply touched by his words.
“I keep wondering why the principal decided on such imbalanced groups of students. I am told he only made the decision yesterday. It just doesn’t make any sense to me.”
Mr. Bordon holds his head, looking troubled. As I thought, it seems he finds it strange too. The wrinkles around his eyes appear to grow in size.