Chapter 10 : Chapter 10
Chapter 10 : Moving In in Grand Style
The plaza was lively and crowded. Carriages of every kind were unloading cargo, and students in academy uniforms streamed into the flow of people like birds returning to their nests, heading for the two iconic giant archways lined with pale blue patterns of flowing Mana.
Drawing on the scattered memories left behind by the original owner, Ryan picked out a few vaguely familiar faces from the crowd—mostly people from the same year over the past two years, but with whom he had never really interacted. Good. That spared him the trouble of exchanging pleasantries.
With a clear destination in mind, he brought along his little maid, who was so nervous she was nearly moving with the same hand and foot, and headed straight for a relatively deserted registration desk beside the archway. It was the “Returning Students Only” line, and much shorter.
Behind the desk sat a middle-aged female teacher wearing thin-rimmed glasses, her expression so severe it could have been used as a ruler. Ms. Eleanor Harper, the administrator in charge of student records for the lower division, was famous for never smiling and for handling everything strictly by the book.
“Name. Year.” Ms. Harper did not even look up. Her quill hovered above the register.
“Ryan Velt, Lower Division, Third Year.” Ryan placed the prepared money pouch on the table. The dull clink of thirty gold coins striking one another made his heart twitch slightly. After buying so many things today, he had finally learned just how much purchasing power thirty gold coins had. This place was a true money pit.
Only then did Ms. Harper raise her eyes. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, gave him a confirming glance, then briskly counted the coins, found his name in the register, crossed out the “tuition unpaid” mark, and recorded the date.
“Tuition confirmed.” She handed over a small copper badge. “Registration for this term is complete.”
“Thank you.” Ryan accepted it and casually slipped it into the inner pocket of his uniform.
“If you need to register a personal attendant,” Ms. Harper added, moving her pen to a blank space in the attendant ledger beside it, “did you bring one?”
“I did.” Ryan turned slightly and let Cosette step forward from behind him.
Like a student being suddenly called on, Cosette stiffened all over. Hugging her bundle, she shuffled to the desk in tiny steps, her head lowered so far it was as if she wanted to bury her face in her arms.
Ms. Harper’s gaze swept over her overly young, almost childish face and the brand-new maid outfit that still could not conceal its unfamiliarity on her. One of her brows twitched, but she asked no questions. She merely pushed a form and a quill toward the edge of the desk.
“Attendant signature line. Write your name.”
Cosette’s body visibly froze.
Writing...
Over the past two days at the inn, this had been the only “survival skill” Ryan had forced into her—dipping her fingertip in water and repeatedly tracing the letters of her name on the wooden tabletop.
She set down her bundle and picked up the quill, which felt slightly heavy in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she bent over and, with utmost seriousness, as though using every ounce of strength in her body, wrote on the form—
“Cosette.”
The letters were uneven in size, the structure so loose and shaky it looked as though it had been written drunk, and the final stroke even trembled into a tiny trailing hook. On the clean white form, that crooked name stood out painfully.
The instant she finished writing, Cosette’s cheeks flared bright red, and even the tips of her ears burned.
In a fluster, she put down the pen and lowered her head even more. She wanted nothing more than to find a crack in the ground and crawl into it on the spot. She did not dare look at Ms. Harper, much less at Ryan beside her.
Ms. Harper merely glanced at the signature without the slightest ripple in her expression, as though she received a dozen such masterpieces every day.
She took back the form, checked it, filed it away, and completed the process in one smooth motion.
“Mm. Cosette. Registered.” Then she drew a stamped slip from a drawer and handed it to Ryan. “Your original single room does not meet the requirements for keeping an attendant. This is your reassigned housing slip. Go to Building Two of Silver Fir House and get the key from the dorm supervisor, Mr. Blake. The room permits one registered attendant to live with you. Read the dormitory regulations for the rest.”
Ryan took the slip.
Silver Fir House? He had some impression of it. The conditions seemed a little better than Green Vine House, where he had stayed before. Was this a benefit that came with bringing along “extra baggage,” or just a routine academy adjustment?
His thoughts moved quickly, though nothing showed on his face.
“Understood. Thank you, Ms. Harper.”
“You may go. The class schedule and notices are posted downstairs in the dormitory.” Ms. Harper had already lowered her head and moved on to the next student.
Ryan put away the slip and turned around.
“Let’s go,” he said to Cosette, who was still drowning in the emotional wreckage of “my handwriting is too ugly to face anyone.”
Like someone granted a pardon, Cosette hurriedly picked up her bundle, then fumbled to lift the luggage bag on the ground and stumbled after Ryan toward the rippling magical barrier.
The instant they passed through it, a denser aura of Mana and the academy’s peculiar inner calm wrapped around them.
Ahead lay a broad and perfectly straight bluestone main road. Towering ancient trees lined both sides, their crowns interweaving high above to form a vaulted canopy. Sunlight filtered through the gaps, scattering dappled shadows below. Farther away, soaring towers, domed lecture halls, and elegant courtyards sketched fantastical outlines beneath the clear autumn sky.
Cosette was clearly struck again. For the moment, she even forgot the shame of her signature. Tilting up her little face, she stared with wide eyes at the floating skybridges in the distance and the faint glimmers of magical light, her mouth hanging slightly open.
Ryan did not stop. After confirming the direction, he headed toward Silver Fir House in the eastern district.
As he walked, he cast a sidelong glance at Cosette. The little girl was clutching the luggage and doing her best to keep up, her steps still a little unsteady. In her eyes were mixed unease toward the unfamiliar surroundings, curiosity, and the remnants of embarrassment.
Illiterate, physically weak, a complete beginner in magic, and mentally fragile...
That was the “survival insurance” his utterly useless cheat had selected for him after painstaking consideration. Or rather, not selected at all, since he had never been given a choice in the first place.
But now that she was here, she was here.
“Stay close,” he said, slowing his pace slightly. His voice was quiet. “Do not just stare at the scenery. Remember the route. You will have to walk it yourself later.”
Cosette gave a little jolt, quickly pulled her gaze back, fixed her eyes tightly on Ryan’s back, and nodded hard. “Yes, Master!”
With the slip Ms. Harper had given him, Ryan led Cosette through several turns in the eastern district of the academy before they finally found the dormitory building called Silver Fir House.
Compared to Green Vine House, where he had lived before, this building did indeed look newer. Its exterior was made of pale gray stone, the windows were larger, and in front of the building was a neatly trimmed patch of shrubbery with several tall silver fir trees standing among it, giving the place a much quieter atmosphere.
They found the dorm supervisor, Mr. Blake—an elderly gentleman with graying hair, a lean frame, and an unhurried manner of speech—verified their information, and collected the key.
The entire process was uneventful. Mr. Blake merely gave a few simple reminders, such as the nightly lights-out time, the rules for using the common areas, and “keep the room tidy, there will be an inspection at the end of the term.”
Their new room was on the second floor, at the end of the corridor. The plaque on the door read “207.”
Ryan inserted the brass key into the lock. With a soft click, the door opened.
The room was more spacious than he had expected, about twenty square meters, with ample light.
By the window stood a sturdy-looking single wooden bed. Opposite it sat a sizable desk with a matching chair, and beside that stood a three-tier bookshelf. In one corner was a separate wardrobe.
What surprised Ryan the most was that the inner side of the room had actually been partitioned off into a tiny private washroom. Though it was fitted with only the most basic necessities, it was a qualitative leap compared to having to run to the communal washroom as before.
Third year of the Lower Division... It seemed the academy at least knew enough to give those of them who were “exam-prep beasts” a minimum level of survival support, Ryan silently grumbled to himself, feeling reasonably satisfied.
At the very least, teaching Cosette basic hygiene and dealing with certain awkward personal needs would be far more convenient.
The room was very clean. It was obvious someone had tidied it after the last occupant left. But after an entire summer, a thin layer of dust had still settled over the furniture and floor. In the sunlight, tiny floating particles could be seen in the air.
Ryan set the heavy crate of books and the equipment case beside the desk and rolled his slightly sore shoulders. Then his gaze fell on Cosette, who had followed him into the room and was standing there clutching her bundle, somewhat at a loss. His eyes then swept toward the corner behind the door.
There, standing neatly in place, was a complete set of brand-new cleaning tools: a broom, a dustpan, a mop, a bucket, and several folded clean rags.
Mm. The tools were complete, and the labor force was readily available.
“Put your things down.” Ryan pointed to a small open space beside the bed. “Then clean the room. Wipe the bookshelf, desk, wardrobe, bed frame—everywhere there is dust. Sweep the floor clean, then mop it. Wipe down the washroom too. Just wet the rag with water. Do not flood the floor.”
He gave the orders in an even tone, then walked over to the desk, pulled out 《Analysis of Intermediate Mana Constructs》 from the crate, drew back the chair, and sat down.
Cosette stood there blankly for two seconds, then her eyes lit up slightly.
Cleaning!
This... this she might actually be able to do. At the very least, it was much more straightforward than trying to recognize all those twisting letters.
“Yes, Master!” There was even a trace of delight in her voice for once.
She carefully put down her little cloth bundle and the luggage bag, then hurried to the space behind the door. Like a child confronting a new toy, she examined the set of cleaning tools with care, then solemnly picked up the broom and the rag.
A real maid’s work had begun.
Cosette started with the bookshelf nearest the door. Standing in her new little leather shoes, she rose onto her toes and tried hard to reach the upper shelves.
The rag was a bit too large. She folded it awkwardly and began to wipe with earnest care, stroke by stroke. Dust rose into the air and drifted in the sunlight. She wrinkled her little nose, turned her head, and let out a small sneeze, her cheeks flushing before she quickly continued.
Next came the desk, the chair, the windowsill... She cleaned with complete seriousness, even with a little too much force, as though she meant to annihilate every speck of dust. When she encountered a stubborn stain, she would carefully scrape at it with her fingernail, or go to the washroom to rinse the cloth before trying again.
When she cleaned around the bed, she had to bend down and crawl halfway underneath it to sweep out the dust. When she emerged, a few strands of cobweb clung to the loose hair on her forehead. She did not notice, but her face had taken on a healthy flush from the labor, and tiny beads of sweat glistened on the tip of her nose.
Ryan looked as though he was focused on reading, but in truth the corner of his eye had been tracking Cosette’s movements the whole time.
He watched the girl go from clumsy uncertainty at the beginning to gradually finding her rhythm. Though her movements were still unskilled, the concentration she poured into doing the job well was obvious. When she could not reach the upper shelves, she dragged over a chair to stand on. When she washed the rag, she knew to wring out more water so she would not soak the floor. She swept the dust carefully into the dustpan and emptied it into the trash bin in the corner...
Not bad. She is not too stupid, Ryan judged inwardly. At the very least, her willingness to learn and her observational ability were both intact.
About an hour later, Cosette finally finished mopping the floor for the last time. She rinsed the cleaning tools clean, returned them to their places behind the door, then straightened up and exhaled as she looked around the room, now thoroughly refreshed.
The bookshelf and furniture looked bright and clean, the floor gleamed faintly with moisture, and the air was filled with the scent of clean water and freshly washed cloth. The windows were spotless, and the sunlight poured in unhindered, making the whole room feel warm and comfortable.
A strange sense of satisfaction and accomplishment quietly spread through Cosette’s heart.
For the past two days, she had lived in constant unease—being looked after, being directed, always feeling utterly useless.
But now, looking at this space she had cleaned with her own hands, she felt it clearly for the first time.
I did something.
I made this place better.
I... am useful.
Her arms, waist, and back ached faintly from unfamiliar labor, but that very soreness made her feel grounded. She could not help but straighten her still somewhat slender back in secret.
Ryan closed his book and raised his eyes at the right moment, letting his gaze move slowly around the room.
The dust was gone. The clutter had been set in order. Even the books he had casually left at the corner of the desk had been carefully shifted somewhere that would not get in the way.
“Mm.” Ryan nodded. His expression showed nothing special. “That will do.”
Those three simple words made Cosette’s eyes brighten at once, as though she had received the highest possible praise. Lowering her head to hide the smile tugging uncontrollably at the corners of her lips, she said softly, “Thank you, Master... Um, shall I go sort out our luggage?”
“Mm,” Ryan answered, lowering his head again and returning his gaze to the page, as though what had just happened was merely a trivial little matter.
With light steps, Cosette went to the pile of luggage and began carefully folding Ryan’s clothes and placing them into his side of the wardrobe. She tucked her own pitifully few spare clothes into the opposite corner, then carefully arranged Ryan’s books on the shelf according to the rough categories he had used before...
As she busied herself, she occasionally sneaked glances toward the quiet young man seated by the desk near the window, reading.
The sunlight laid a pale golden sheen over his slightly long brown hair. His gray-blue eyes were lowered, calm and intent.
This strange magic academy, so splendid that it made her uneasy, no longer seemed quite so frightening because of this person, and because of this little room she had just cleaned with her own hands.
At the very least, she now knew what she was supposed to do.
She would begin by sweeping the floor and wiping away the dust.