ISTV 105

Before long, Sayla finished writing the formula and placed a magic stone — the kind used in Professor Tritana’s lectures — on top of her notebook.

Resting her hand on the stone, Sayla closed her eyes and began to meditate.

“Since Sayla’s meditating…”

Dorifina didn’t quite understand what was happening, but decided to imitate her anyway. She sat cross-legged on the bed and copied Sayla’s pose.

About five minutes later, Dorifina began to feel itchy all over.

“Am I the only one who gets itchy doing this?”

Meditation always made her itchy — her throat tickled, she wanted to cough, and her body felt restless.

She could chatter away all day without moving an inch, but ask her to meditate for five minutes and she was ready to give up.

Eventually, she abandoned the effort and decided it was far more productive just to watch Sayla instead.

Indeed, gazing at that picture-perfect face felt much more worthwhile. When she looked at Sayla, the itchiness disappeared, and time seemed to pass quickly.

Half an hour went by.

“She must be sailing toward some great truth,” Dorifina thought in awe.

That must be why Sayla could look so solemn and focused. Her expression was so serene it bordered on divine.

Dorifina’s heart began to race.

“What kind of beautiful truth is she dreaming about?”

A pure passion for mathematics. A noble longing for magic. Surely Sayla’s mind was filled with lofty, elegant thoughts.

At last, Sayla opened her eyes.

“…It’s done.”

“You’ve finally reached enlightenment—”

“I can make a refrigerator now.”

“…”

In truth, with a first-year student’s level of mathematical knowledge, there wasn’t much one could do magically.

The formula based on Fayragos’s theorem could merely store a magician’s mana temporarily and then release it later.

“Since I have more than enough cold energy in my body…”

If she used that, she could probably make something like a refrigerator.

Then she could keep ingredients fresher for longer.

Dorifina felt oddly betrayed.

“The great truth of magic was…”

“Hm?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Simply storing and releasing cold air won’t be enough,” Sayla thought.

She would need a proper container — like an icebox — to hold the chill.

“I’ll probably need help from the general crafts class for that.”

If she could find students skilled with their hands, they could build her a suitable case.

Sayla headed straight for the General Crafts dormitory.

News of her approach spread like wildfire among the students there.

“Sayla’s coming here?”

“I heard she’s really beautiful.”

“Is that what matters right now? The representative of the magic users is invading our territory!”

“I thought she was from the swordsmanship class, not the magic class?”

Sayla was one of the most influential first-year students.

As the face of the Celia Brand and one of the top students selected on the first day, she already had many admirers.

So for such a person to come personally to another dormitory — it could only mean one thing.

“It’s a declaration of war.”

“Of course it is. What else could it be?”

The general-crafts students were notoriously hostile toward other classes.

After all, most other students came from noble or knightly families.

“Hah, those snobs think they’re our equals?”

“Know your place, you commoners.”

“Aren’t most of them just dropouts who couldn’t make the grade?”

“And those nouveau-riche families with no tradition? Just filthy rich parvenus!”

Such insults were part of everyday life.

Naturally, the general-crafts students couldn’t possibly feel friendly toward other classes.

“Hmph, they’d better not think we’ll bow down to them here. On our turf, we’re not afraid of anyone.”

“I heard she’s the daughter of the Dvernon family.”

“S-so what? You think I’m scared?”

The students gathered in the first-floor lobby.

“Why did she come here?”

“If it’s a declaration of war, we’re ready.”

Sayla, expression calm and unreadable, replied evenly.

“I came to see Jerimiel.”

At that, the crafts students froze.

Jerimiel was the one most likely to become their class representative.

“So it really is a declaration of war?”

“The leaders are going to talk face to face?”

Sayla’s dignified, noble air made it all too easy to misunderstand her intentions.

“We have to tell Jerimiel right away!”

“Those sword-wielding freaks must be planning to fight us!”

As Sayla walked forward, the crafts students instinctively stepped aside.

She ascended the stairs with graceful composure.

When she disappeared from view, the students collectively exhaled in relief.

“Wow… I’ll admit it, she scared me a little.”

“They said she was pretty, but she’s really pretty.”

“She looked like she wouldn’t bleed even if you stabbed her — what’s pretty about that?”

“Did you see that calm attitude? That faintly condescending look?”

In truth, Sayla hadn’t looked condescending at all. She’d simply walked slowly and steadily, unbothered by all the staring eyes.

“As expected of a Dvernon.”

“Such presence. Her eyes were terrifying.”

Meanwhile, standing before Jerimiel’s door, Sayla quietly sighed.

“Wow… I was terrified.”

If not for her noble composure, her legs might have given out beneath her.

She had expected hostility, but not that much.

“Looks like the muscle-headed principal’s plan is working.”

The students of each class were beginning to develop loyalty to their own groups.

In time, they’d start clashing and competing with one another — just as the principal had intended, believing that endless competition produced excellent students.

At that moment, the door opened.

“Sayla. I heard you were looking for me. Come in.”

Sayla stepped into Jerimiel’s room.

Jerimiel smiled brightly.

“So, you want to make a portable refrigerator. That’s a great idea.”

Outwardly, he was all smiles, but inwardly his mind was racing.

“Sayla actually came to my room herself.”

This was a first.

Sayla was usually so careful and reserved — she never did anything that stood out.

“She always tries to keep her distance from me.”

He’d be lying if he said that didn’t sting a little.

Still, it wasn’t a big problem.

When he’d watched her in butterfly form, he’d realized she treated everyone that way — Hamuun and Leon included.

“How can I use this opportunity to get closer to her?”

He had to think rationally.

As the son of the House of Bigung, he needed a calculated plan.

Maybe he could ask her to partner with him in the Survival Skills class — that would naturally bring them closer.

Or he could suggest studying math together; that too would give him time with her.

But before he could speak, Sayla said,

“I’ll invite you to my room next time. I think I can cook a simple meal to treat you.”

Sayla’s offer was deliberate.

If he tasted her cooking first, she reasoned, Jerimiel would be more willing to help.

But to her surprise, Jerimiel was immediately cooperative.

“Perfect. I know a few students who are good with their hands. With their help, we can make an insulated box that won’t let any cold air escape. I’ll help.”

Sayla tilted her head slightly.

“He agreed right away? He hasn’t even tried my cooking yet.”

Jerimiel was a schemer, no doubt.

“I thought he’d use my request as leverage to demand all sorts of favors… is he planning something else I can’t see?”

If only he’d asked for something directly, it would’ve been easier to read him — but instead, he just smiled radiantly.

Which only made her heart flutter for no reason.

“Get a grip, Sayla. Who knows what trick he’s planning.”

The next day, Jerimiel came to the Swordsmanship dormitory.

Since it was the very next day after Sayla had visited him, students were abuzz with speculation.

“They say Sayla and Jerimiel had a secret meeting yesterday.”

“Maybe they’re teaming up to push Hamuun out?”

“No way! You think Sayla’s aiming to become the class representative?”

Her elegance made such rumors all too believable; she radiated natural authority even when she did nothing.

Hamuun, having heard the commotion, hurried downstairs.

“Hey, Jerimiel. What brings you here?”

Jerimiel, as always, smiled mildly.

“What do you think I’m here for?”

“You’re not here to declare war or something, are you?”

“…”

Jerimiel stepped closer and whispered in Hamuun’s ear.

“Sayla. Per-son-al-ly invited me. Told me to come to her room. Said she’d serve me a homemade meal.”

Hamuun’s eyes widened, and the students watching them began to whisper among themselves.

Whatever Jerimiel had just said clearly shocked Hamuun — something big must be going on.

Jerimiel kept whispering.

“She said she’d cook it herself for me. Personally. With her own hands.”

He’d basically repeated the same words, but Hamuun’s face twisted even further, as if confronted with an unbearable truth.

Finally, he burst out,

“That’s impossible! You’re lying!”

“Heh.”

“If what you said is true… I’ll have to confirm it myself.”

“Why? Want a three-way confrontation?”

“Of course I do.”

The surrounding students exchanged bewildered looks. What on earth was happening that warranted a three-way meeting?

“Something serious is going down!”

Hamuun marched ahead, face rigid, while Jerimiel followed leisurely behind.

At last, the two of them arrived at Sayla’s door.