Alois Rockmann.
Ever since I first saw this guy, for some reason, I felt like fighting him. Why he makes me feel that way I don’t really understand.
We ended up sitting next to each other, but there was no use trying to change that. It’s something that the teacher decided, and at first I hadn’t thought of him as someone who would piss me off this much. I had merely thought of him as a boy with a pretty face. That’s all.
Even so, for some reason I felt a strong desire to not let myself be beat by this person next to me. I felt some desire to beat him, in fact, and the feeling was strange even to myself.
So this is what “instincts” are, I suppose.
There really might be some way of discerning between friend or foe by scent alone.
But on top of all this, he was willing to become my opponent, and his first words to me as his seatmate were:
“Let’s play a game.”
That’s it.
“...Pardon?”
What’s this guy’s problem? I thought, but I didn’t have the guts to say that out loud to someone I just met, so I simply accepted his proposal. Plus he was wearing clothes that marked him out as a rich kid, and that made me concerned about making him angry.
We did rock-paper-scissors. I put out rock, he did paper, and so I lost.
“I win.”
“Wha—!”
I’d no idea what I’d done to make him dislike me so much, but the dark and dusky sneer he gave me told me how he felt. His eyes were shadowed with malicious intent.
All I did was lose at rock-paper-scissors, and yet I feel so utterly defeated. What is it with this guy?
Ah, I am quite incapable of understanding him. Totally incapable.
And so from then on, for a while, as soon as I sat down in my seat, I’d challenge him to another game. He didn’t refuse, and so we kept playing, but with fifty-three wins and fifty-four losses I am, as of yet, losing.
To begin with, though, why did he challenge me to such a game in the first place?
Or so I might have thought at first, but right now I don’t care about the reason why we’re doing this. I just dislike losing.
Thinking about it now, perhaps most of the reason why I want to fight and compete against him is because of our little games. Anyhow, all I could think of was how I absolutely had to beat this guy in our school studies. He’d become my rival.
According to the explanation our teacher gave us, we would not be changing seats or classrooms, ever. In other words, for the next six years, I will be next to this guy the whole time. Even if I’d rather be anywhere else.
Our competition would be decided based on how hard we worked in our studies, not just on luck. If the gods truly existed, this must have been a test made for me.
There is no way I’m going to lose to him.
I overheard some girls talking. “Ah ah, how uncivilized. At this rate I’ll never be able to get any closer to the Prince. Not that I care,” said one of them.
“Which is it? Do you care or not?!” said a girl next to her.
“As if you could ever get close with the Prince!” the other girl shouted back.
The third prince of Doran is also a student in this classroom. His name is Zenon Bal Doran. If Rockmann could be called a pretty boy, the Prince is like a man’s man. With black hair and black eyes, even his eyebrows look manly. Make no mistake, both of them have nice faces, but if I had to say which I preferred, it would be the Prince. His closely-fitted black military outfit makes him look gallantly dashing.
Perhaps this is a Golden Age of aristocrat kids or something, but this year it would seem that quite a few powerful families have children beginning school here, so the girls are practically screeching with excitement.
Not that I’m a part of that nonsense.
The Prince who’s the focus of all the commotion sits in the seat in front of me. The Prince’s fans, unlike Rockmann’s, tend to admire him from a distance. When your object of admiration is a prince, it must be rather difficult to just go up and talk to him. And I’m not sure if blondie here next to me is his guard or something, but he’s always with the Prince.
Even those who didn’t know the two of them that well would think them to just be normal friends from the way that they make casual conversation with each other. What a prince and a commoner actually talk about with each other isn’t that interesting, as it turns out, so I couldn’t recall much of what they ever said to each other.
I overheard yet another girl talking. “What’s up with that girl? She’s next to Sir Alois; the least she could do is make some conversation.”
“She’s the one who really needs to learn her place, in my opinion.”
Dammit, I will be the one laughing at you all someday!
Just you wait!
＊ ＊ ＊ ＊
It’s been half a year since I came to this school.
My lessons here have been rather fulfilling, and as someone who wants to study a lot, I am quite grateful for that.
It’s not just one teacher who teaches us. Different teachers instruct us in their own specialties in a very easy-to-understand manner, and more than that they all know their specialty extremely well, so they always answer questions, no matter how detailed they might be.
Yeah, I’m really glad I entered this school.
“Morning, Nikeh.”
“Morning, Nanalie. Your hair is all a mess. A girl should pay more attention to such things!”
She takes me over to the white washbasin and begins brushing my hair. Compared to me, who’s just rolled out of bed, she’s already gotten dressed for the day. Her yellow one-piece dress is quite bright.
I look at her face in the mirror. “Thanks.”
This commoner girl, Nikeh, is one of my roommates in the dormitory. She has pretty blond hair, and she’s more “beautiful” than she is “cute.” But it seems like she actually wants to be called cute, because she usually has her hair done up in two pigtails.
No matter what she looks like, that part of her is cute, in my opinion.