There’s Something Special About Her - Chapter 60

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 60.
A Provisional Examination spanning four days.
I knew it was a poisoned chalice, but I had no other choice.
Killian Nox demanding I become a trainee and catch a spy, and Padilla Bondez saying with that air of “Surely this much is easy?” that I had to pass a difficult exam before he’d accept me.
Being caught between the two of them was irritating and infuriating, but there was nothing that would solve anything.
“The sun will set soon, so today is too late. You can start with the Written Examination tomorrow. This is a procedural matter for fairness — I’ll give you the same exam that this batch of trainees took. Of course, I’ll apply the same passing standard as well.”
He was speaking as if bestowing some great favor upon me, but the reality was the opposite.
I didn’t know the fine details, like how a trainee with a letter of recommendation would have to wait until the next intake, but I had a rough sense of how Nox’s entrance exam procedure worked.
At least I knew that scores in all areas didn’t carry equal weight in the outcome.
Each applicant writes down which department they wish to be assigned to afterward, and depending on that, scores in the Written and Practical Examinations — whichever subject is more relevant — carries greater bearing on whether they pass.
For example, if I were an applicant who wanted to join the security detail later, I could still pass even if I performed poorly on the Written Examination, provided my grades in practical subjects like Hand-to-Hand Combat and Sparring were outstanding.
But Padilla Bondez never asked me which department I wished to join.
He only said he’d apply the same passing standard.
It was his way of saying he’d apply a stricter measure to me.
‘I can’t fault him for it, though.’
In a way, it’s the fairer approach.
If I want to do a Mid-term Recruitment, then I have to prove I’m qualified for it — there’s no room for objection.
“Kessler will show you where to stay during the examination.”
That was his way of saying I could leave now.
I followed Kessler silently out of the office.
Even as I watched him remove his outer coat and hang it on the rack, apparently intending to head to the training grounds, the weight of Padilla Bondez’s gaze on the back of my head was almost painful.
“Here it is.”
The first floor of the Dormitory Building, where it cornered up against the Administrative Building.
Kessler opened the door to the most remote room and spoke.
The interior resembled the quarters the Special Operations Unit used.
The only difference was that the furniture, including the bed, looked a bit sturdier and more refined.
“Thank you, Kessler.”
“For evening meals, you can use the Dining Hall in the Dining Hall Building next door. When the time comes, a bell will ring — find your way there on your own.”
“Yes, thank you. I appreciate your trouble.”
“……Do your best.”
Kessler, who had regarded me with a complicated look for a moment, then turned and left the room.
I’d thought from his outward appearance that he’d be rather rigid, but he seemed to have a softer side after all.
While he ultimately hadn’t changed Padilla Bondez’s mind, the fact that he’d attempted to mediate showed that much.
Alone now, I immediately locked the door and windows, and drew the thick curtains.
The room quickly grew dark as night, but as always, that posed no problem for me.
Thud.
I collapsed onto the bed, which was certainly sturdier and softer than the Special Operations Unit’s cots, and gazed upward at the faint light creeping through the gap in the curtains.
I felt no tension or worry about the examination that would begin tomorrow.
But there was one thing that troubled me.
“What score would let me pass without drawing unnecessary attention?”
I had no idea how hard these kids studied these days.
***
Yesterday I’d simply collapsed and missed dinner entirely.
After finishing my night patrol, I was summoned by Killian Nox, packed my things, and came to the training facility — it had been a long day.
Instead, I rose early at dawn, washed, finished my preparations, and the moment the breakfast bell rang, I bolted to the mess hall with my stomach rumbling.
True to Nox’s generous nature — he didn’t stint on food — the training facility’s meals were satisfactory.
In the Barracks Mess Hall, so many personnel ate that as a newcomer I’d had to carefully control my portions.
But here there were no such restrictions, which was even better.
With my stomach thoroughly full and needing to aid digestion, I was strolling lazily through the Outdoor Training Ground.
Snag.
Something caught my foot as I enjoyed the feel of the well-maintained grass, and looking down, I saw a Wooden Training Sword left carelessly scattered.
It was quite heavy — whether from a thick iron core driven through it.
“What are they doing, leaving things like this scattered everywhere?”
I clicked my tongue in disapproval and picked up the Wooden Training Sword that had caught my foot, and I could see similar training swords lying scattered nearby as well.
Now that I looked, the training ground was dotted with an astonishing number of training weapons.
“Not knowing the value of a thing.”
These weren’t toy wooden swords for children to play with — they had iron cores.
Such things are expensive to make.
Back when I was in Wickes, having built the intelligence unit from scratch, everything like this was budget to me.
And the grass, warped and ruined under the weight of the weapons, went without saying.
Had I not seen it, I could have let it pass, but now that I was aware of it, I couldn’t just ignore it.
So I began gathering the scattered training weapons one by one, with the feeling of picking up coins from the ground, and my arms grew heavy.
It must have weighed at least as much as a sack of grain.
“And the Weapon Storage Box is right there!”
When I found the box near the slope where the prisoners — rather, trainees — had been sitting yesterday, I felt a flash of irritation.
Just unwilling to walk a little distance, they’d left wooden training swords lying all over the place.
If I were an instructor, I’d never allow such a thing.
“What an age we live in.”
It was as I reached the front of the Weapon Storage Box, grumbling.
“Well, thanks to you, it’s looking really clean now.”
At the unfamiliar voice, I turned to see a young man in the typical drab clothes of a trainee.
With reddish-brown hair and dark gray eyes, tall though his face still held a hint of youth — I’d guessed he was past twenty.
So the boy did know gratitude.
“It’s nothing much.”
I was trying to brush it off with an adult-like shrug when—
“So you’re from the Special Operations Unit, huh? Looks like this kind of work really does suit your talents?”
“……What?”
“While you’re at it, why don’t you clean up over there too? The betting matches yesterday made quite a mess of it.”
The approach was so unexpected that I took a beat to process it.
Ah, this kid is starting with me right now.
Crash.
I tossed all the weapons I’d been holding into the box and, dusting off my hands, turned to leave.
Though the Wooden Training Sword kept catching my eye — perfect for beating someone without drawing blood — I couldn’t afford to get into a fight with a trainee before I’d even taken my entrance exam.
I’d have to let it slide.
“If you leave training tools scattered like this, they won’t last long and the grass gets damaged. I’m sure you didn’t mean to, but let’s be more careful going forward, friend.”
Seeing his soft appearance, I suspected he might have been raised well in some wealthy household and simply didn’t know to treat communal property with care, so I admonished him gently.
Yet somewhere his feelings seemed to twist, because his dark brows twitched.
“……Friend?”
I’d used the term simply because I had no other suitable word for the young man, but had it offended him?
It seemed he might have misunderstood, thinking a stranger was being overly familiar.
“My apologies if I’ve upset you. I don’t know your name.”
“Don’t know me?”
Why did he keep ending his sentences with question marks?
I racked my brain just in case, but I was certain we had no prior acquaintance.
When asking someone’s name, it was proper etiquette to give mine first.
I nodded and offered my hand.
“I’m Runelk Ains.”
“……Ha!”
But the boy neither took my offered hand nor seemed to know what to say, instead letting out a hollow laugh.
Then, along with other trainees who had similarly soft features, a group approached us.
“Maximilian!”
“What’s wrong? Maximilian, did you know that guy?”
“Know him? Not at all!”
My goodness.
The one called Maximilian suddenly shouted.
Then, his eyes flashing with anger, he glared at me and demanded:
“You really don’t know my name? Maximilian Digrave?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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