Chapter 15
784words
At dawn, while others slept, I arrived at the training grounds, sweating through basic physical conditioning and mana control exercises.
Mornings found me punctually attending every class, listening attentively, occasionally raising calculated questions befitting my "seventh-place status."
Afternoons invariably meant the library. I'd claim the most isolated corner, surround myself with dusty tomes on ancient magic arrays and demon history, and spend hours appearing to study them intently.
I had perfected my disguise as a "hardworking mediocrity."
A pathetic striver who, anxious about his stagnant ranking, could only chase after geniuses through brute effort.
Such students were commonplace at the Academy—and thoroughly overlooked.
"Look, there's Sakurai again."
"Working himself to death, poor fool. If effort alone mattered, who'd need talent?"
"Exactly. Those books he's reading? Even the professors call them obsolete relics."
In the library, senior students mocked me openly.
I ignored them, maintaining my facade of concentration on an ancient scroll, frowning as if puzzling through complex runes.
In reality, my attention focused entirely on my secret communication with Kanon.
Before me, a magical array of faint light—visible only to me—rotated slowly above the book. Through it, Kanon's voice transmitted directly to my mind.
"President, the fish took our bait," her tone carried excitement. "Fujiwara has dispatched at least three teams investigating us from different angles."
"One group went to Aruba researching the 'Shadow Arbiter' and Dorn Trading Company; another headed toward Green Leaf Village but remains blocked by Tsukishima's illusion barrier; the third and most troublesome team stays within the Academy monitoring you."
My heart tensed, though my expression remained neutral as I casually turned a page.
"Monitoring me? What have they discovered?"
"Absolutely nothing," Kanon sounded smug. "Your life is simply too boring! They followed you for three days and concluded: Sakurai Hayato, seventh in succession, is an ascetic whose existence consists solely of training and studying. The only 'suspicious' activity is your weekly 'Defeat Fujiwara' fantasy meetings with lower-ranked candidates."
"Perfect," I thought. "Exactly what I wanted them to see."
"However, President," Kanon's tone grew serious, "this stalemate can't continue. Fujiwara's patience is limited. Finding nothing useful, he might resort to more direct measures—perhaps confronting you personally."
"I understand," I replied. "We need to take initiative, give him some 'entertainment' to divert his attention."
"What kind of entertainment?"
"He's curious about my 'study group,' isn't he? Let's make things clearer for him."
After ending communication with Kanon, I closed my book, stood, and stretched with calculated weariness, displaying just the right mixture of "fatigue" and "frustration."
To observers, I appeared to be a struggling student finally abandoning a difficult problem.
They couldn't know that an elaborate trap for Fujiwara Shizuka was already being set.
That evening, my dormitory hosted the weekly "study group" meeting.
Unlike previous sessions, I appeared particularly "agitated" and "radical."
"Enough theoretical analysis! It's completely useless!" I slammed the table violently, scattering tactical diagrams across the floor. "All this armchair strategy will never defeat Fujiwara Shizuka!"
My outburst startled everyone present.
"Sakurai... what's wrong?" a member asked cautiously.
"What's wrong?" I sneered, eyes blazing with manufactured jealousy. "I've had enough! Why should Fujiwara have everything? The best resources, highest status, greatest power! While we scheme like sewer rats in this pathetic room?"
I took a dramatic breath. "Power must be seized! Resources must be taken! If we can't defeat Fujiwara directly, let's start by crippling his support network!"
I unveiled a wall map marked with red circles—Fujiwara's key resource points: a magic crystal vein, a slave transit station, and a secret garden for cultivating magical plants.
"These are Fujiwara's power sources!" I jabbed at the map, voice trembling with feigned excitement. "Destroying even one would wound him significantly! Let him know we're not to be dismissed!"
My "mad ravings" horrified the group members.
"You've lost your mind, Sakurai!"
"Attack Lord Fujiwara's assets? That's suicide!"
"I'm out! Count me out!"
Several members immediately fled my dormitory in panic.
I didn't stop them, watching coldly as they left. I knew they would report everything to their master in exquisite detail.
Soon, only Tsukishima and a few genuinely loyal members remained, their faces showing concern and hesitation.
"Are you serious about this?" Tsukishima asked, brow furrowed.
I met her gaze, gradually reining in my previous "madness," and collapsed into my chair with a weary, hoarse voice:
"I just... can't accept this anymore."
I buried my face in my hands, shoulders trembling slightly—the perfect portrait of a failure crumbling under pressure and envy.
"The bait is set."
Now to wait for the fish to bite.
---
