The academy was home to countless clubs.
From simple ones like reading, tea, and theater to larger ones such as swordsmanship, horseback riding, and magical research clubs.
The academy, which encouraged student socializing and exploration, approved just about any club that wasn't outright bizarre.
Thanks to that, hundreds of clubs sprang up—but among them, the undisputed top was the Yacht Club.
A club known to only admit the top 5% of the academy, one that required an invitation from an insider, and the club every student dreamed of joining.
There was no other reason. It was simply because members of the Yacht Club were recognized not only within the academy but across the entire empire.
Academic connections, regional ties, and bloodlines were universal truths no matter the world—and the Yacht Club was the ultimate stage for ordinary students to build prestigious academic ties.
'Hmm…'
As the extravagant yacht that served as that stage docked at the pier, masked members began boarding one by one.
Fernan sat in a chair, waiting for Ruina.
Because one of the Yacht Club's rules was that the one who issued the invitation must accompany their partner.
'So that area over there will soon be overrun with monsters, huh.'
He briefly let his thoughts wander toward the future as the sea breeze brushed past—until Ruina soon approached him.
"…Didn't you say you went dress shopping with Bella Hoenne?"
"I did go shopping."
"Then why are you wearing the Knight Order's formal uniform?"
It wasn't a major issue, since knights often wore it to official banquets.
However, this event wasn't for Knight Ruina—but Student Ruina.
Everyone else had shown up in dresses, so being the only one in military uniform was bound to draw attention.
"…Those frilly things just didn't sit right with me… and more importantly, we might end up fighting, right? It's hard to be fully prepared in a dress…"
Ruina fumbled through her excuse.
But it wasn't exactly wrong. Fighting in a dress wouldn't be easy, after all.
"…Well, fine. It's not against etiquette. Besides, whether you're in a dress or a uniform, anyone who sees you will know it's you."
Even though this was technically a masquerade ball, the masks themselves held little real significance.
They had all lived and mingled within the academy for far too long to not recognize each other from just a mask.
"So what exactly do I need to do?"
"Enjoy yourself."
"…Excuse me?"
"You came to the ball, right? The Yacht Club is a social gathering first and foremost. Until I give the signal, just enjoy the ball normally."
"…Understood."
"Have you ever attended a ball before?"
Ruina hesitated for a moment, then shook her head.
"My family's situation wasn't good, so I never had the luxury to attend one."
"That was tactless of me. I apologize."
They say even a ruined noble house can last three years…
Fernan never imagined that, no matter how far her family had declined, a former margrave's daughter would have never attended a ball.
"It's alright. It's not that I never had the chance. I simply chose not to attend."
"I figured as much."
Right. It was unlikely she never had a single opportunity.
Satisfied, Fernan adjusted his attire and glanced around.
And then he spotted other invitation holders.
"I'm nervous. It's my first ball, too."
"Don't worry too much. People are the same everywhere."
Beneath masks with no remarkable designs, two men with similarly brown eyes.
With tidy black-blue hair and striking blond hair—it only took a glance for Fernan to recognize them.
'Valosh Bienderk and Aint Armian.'
Even with masks, people gave off distinct airs—and voices.
"You're here?"
Another masked figure approached the group.
'Alkan Chason?'
A rather slender frame, grayish hair, and blue eyes. He was a third-year in the knight department, ranked second in his year, and one of Ludger's close associates.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Aint Armian."
"I know. Is there anyone in the academy who doesn't? Nice to meet you—Alkan Chason."
He had the look of a gigolo and was quite popular around the academy.
'Was he the one who sent the invitation? Then Ludger…?'
Aint had once attended the Yacht Club and been attacked by the Corrupted.
The Corrupted had infiltrated in advance as staff, so it had clearly been a planned operation.
Which meant the problem began the moment someone pulled Aint into the Yacht Club.
"Let's go in."
"Yes."
"Yes, senior."
That was why Valosh's offer had seemed a bit strange to begin with.
Valosh Bienderk was an obvious ally, someone who would become Aint's companion. It made no sense for him to collude with the Corrupted and lure Aint into a trap.
If the issue was the person who passed the invitation through Valosh, that could be understandable—but if Ludger was the one backing it all, then it became harder to accept.
'Ludger's no fool. There's no way he'd side with the Corrupted.'
Even if demons had vanished, the Empire was a nation founded on the defeat of demons.
Demons were still considered the Empire's main enemy. For a crown prince to associate with the Corrupted would be pure idiocy.
'It's too early to jump to conclusions.'
It could be that Alkan Chason had his own separate agenda, that Ludger didn't know the people around him were Corrupted, or it might just be a coincidence.
'Or maybe Ludger has his own plans for Aint.'
Perhaps a Corrupted agent lurking near Ludger had been manipulating him behind the scenes.
Fernan considered all the possibilities.
Whatever the truth, it was too soon to make a definitive judgment.
"You've been staring… Ah, it's Senior Alkan."
Noticing Fernan's fixed gaze, Ruina spoke.
"The other two are Aint Armian and Valosh Bienderk, right? Looks like Senior Alkan sent them the invitations."
"You recognized them right away?"
"I've been keeping an eye on both of them. And besides, they're far too well-known for a simple mask to conceal their identities."
She had a point.
Though for different reasons, both Valosh Bienderk and Aint Armian had stirred up endless rumors since their admission.
Once he confirmed they handed in their invitations and boarded the ship, Fernan extended a hand to Ruina.
"Well then, shall we? Or should I say, 'My lady'?"
Ruina stared at his hand.
"That's a bit embarrassing. Do we really need to hold hands?"
"Aren't we partners?"
There was no real need to enter as an escorted couple. That had been the theme at times, but not today.
Still, Fernan was insisting on it—to publicly show his closeness with Ruina.
Whatever the reason, Ruina and Aint were two individuals Fernan had to befriend.
'I've already made plenty of investments and built some rapport.'
At this point, it was important to make it clear to others that she wasn't available.
"…Very well."
After hesitating for a moment, Ruina took Fernan's hand. The two began walking slowly toward the ship.
"Welcome, Branch Manager."
A staff member from the Golden Turtle Merchant Group, which managed the vessel, bowed politely.
"Is everyone here?"
"Yes. Including the two newest arrivals, all members are aboard."
"Ludger showed up earlier than expected."
Usually, he made a point of arriving last so all eyes would be on him.
With that brief moment of surprise, Fernan and Ruina stepped onto the ship.
Inside the luxurious yacht, soothing music from a live orchestra flowed through the air.
Chefs stood at the ready to serve fresh food, and attendants stationed throughout the ship ensured the masked members' comfort.
The murmuring students turned their attention to the new arrivals—particularly to the fact that Fernan and Ruina had entered together.
As they should.
But—
The music had suddenly stopped.
The serving of food ceased, and all the attendants had backed away into corners, holding their breath.
"This is…"
"An amusing sight."
And just like that, the attention that should have been on Fernan and Ruina was already drawn elsewhere.
There, one of the scenarios Fernan had predicted was unfolding before his very eyes.
Aint and Ludger.
Armian and Schwaben.
With a relaxed demeanor, Ludger faced his counterpart, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.
In contrast, Aint's pupils trembled slightly, his face rigid and cold.
The bloodlines of the current imperial family and the former imperial family had finally crossed paths.
"No wonder we were overshadowed."
The entrance of two debtors walking in together could hardly compete with the encounter between the current and former royal bloodlines.
"Ah… I guess I can't bring you into the ballroom."
As the appointed time drew near, Aint, adjusting his attire, unbuckled the sword at his waist and placed it on the bed.
But he soon had no choice but to pick it back up.
— Don't worry.
— You said this sword was mixed with mithril, right? Mithril not only accepts souls but is an incredibly versatile metal.
For example—
— It can shrink.
The bastard sword had, before he knew it, become a small dagger.
No, even calling it a dagger felt too generous—it had shrunk to a mere trinket.
"This is… actually possible?"
Aint, fascinated, kept turning the tiny object over in his hands.
— Get a chain and hang it around your neck. No one will suspect it if it looks like a necklace.
"That… might look strange."
— Exactly. And besides, I can't miss the chance to meet the bloodline of that damned traitor who betrayed House Armian.
— I absolutely have to see it with my own eyes.
"A traitor?"
— They turned on the margraves who raised them and dared to aim for the imperial throne. Of course they're traitors.
"…Hmm."
Aint scratched his cheek in silence.
The law that emperors would be chosen by the margraves, not through inheritance—had originally been established by the First Emperor himself. But Aint didn't bother to bring that up.
Regardless of how it started, the Schwaben family had seized the throne and triggered the downfall of his own bloodline. He couldn't view them favorably.
"Still, what could be the real reason for inviting me? The one who sent the invitation was said to be one of Ludger Schwaben's associates."
— Why waste your thoughts on that? It's obviously one of four reasons.
"One of four?"
— First: Ludger Schwaben has some sort of hidden agenda.
The Second Prince of the Empire, who undoubtedly bore some grudge toward Aint.
As a central figure in the Yacht Club, he was the most likely to have orchestrated this.
— Second: Fernan Pellenberg has an agenda.
The merchant who casually handed over Saintbird's Heart, and recently even traded Adamant.
He was also involved with the Yacht Club.
In fact, the very transformation of a simple social club into the exclusive Yacht Club had been largely due to his influence.
— Third: Valosh Bienderk has an agenda.
The heir to a great house, who from the very first meeting had showered Aint with inexplicable goodwill.
Both Aint and Gardner still couldn't read his true intentions.
"What's the last one? Is there anyone else powerful enough to send an invitation?"
— Valosh Bienderk is just plain crazy.
That last one was half a joke. From everything Aint had seen so far, Valosh didn't seem insane—but he definitely had something up his sleeve.
And the conclusion?
"At the academy, one must follow the academy's rules. The academy is a place of equality."
— So it's the first one, huh.
"But that only applies to fellow students, doesn't it? Aint Armian. As your senior, I expect at least basic courtesy, proper greetings, and etiquette from my junior."
He showed up sooner than expected.