It was during the class of the brand-new Illusion Studies professor “Gray.”
“I will check your assignments.”
The subjects were illusion studies professors from various countries. They glanced at one another and turned in their homework through the TA. Drawings rendered with Glass Butterfly on paper were delivered to Gray.
Gray examined the drawings seriously.
“Hm.......”
A field of study that only she had researched and systematized meant a “monopoly of scholarship” with no competitors.
That was a fierce source of pride for Gray, but at times it made her really pissed off.
“No, this isn’t it, I said?”
Gray started scolding Kollider.
“Ah why, why. What about it. I did what you told me. You said to project exactly the image that comes to mind.”
“I told you to construct the form one by one! Not stamp it in one go. One form at a time! Don’t take a photo—draw a picture!”
The problem was habit. After decades of ingrained preconceptions about their discipline, they simply weren’t flexible.
It was understandable.
Even Kollider had been handling illusion long before Gray was born.
“Hey, whether it’s a drawing or a signature, you’re putting an image on paper. What’s the difference.”
“Oh? Talking back!”
“.......”
When Kollider clamped his mouth in a sulk, Wolfgang Yussef started snickering.
“What are you laughing at, huh? Professor Wolfgang. Is it funny?”
“Huh? Yes?”
“You think you’re any different?”
As she scolded Wolfgang this time, Gray shook her head from side to side.
'No. But are they really this stiff?'
By analogy, it was like telling a right-handed person to use chopsticks with their left hand.
It would be hard.
Because it’s unfamiliar.
But shouldn’t it become doable if you keep at it?
'Dante picked it up right away??'
That was why it was even more frustrating.
Teach him one, and he knew ten.
To continue the chopsticks analogy, after she taught him how to pick up a grain of rice with his left hand, Dante started doing chopstick tricks.
“...Anyway. I’ll lecture. Open your textbooks.”
The problem didn’t end there.
“In Unit 3 we will learn about resolution. As I said before, the most important thing in Glass Butterfly is ‘memory.’ Whether or not you can memorize with precision determines the resolution of the image.”
At that moment, “That’s not it....” a mutter came from someone. Gray shut her eyes tight and pretended not to hear.
This was the second problem.
“There are people like me who are born with good memory. But those of you who are not can strengthen memory through training. To do that you must pay careful attention to ‘observation.’”
To give an example, Gray duplicated herself with Glass Butterfly exactly and stood the copy beside her.
Snap!
“As you can see, this is me, and it’s completely identical to me, yes? It means I always watch myself carefully.”
Then it happened. “Prettier than the original....” someone muttered again. Gray clenched a fist under the lectern.
“...There’s a joke handed down in our Habanero family, that the people who learn Glass Butterfly best are country grandmothers. The grandmothers who lean on the window frame every day and watch outside. It’s their only pleasure, so they observe for a long time. And because of their age, they understand the subject in depth.”
Snap!
With another flick of her fingers Gray became ten. At the same time, the ten of them each displayed a different emotion.
A smiling face.
A crying face.
A face grinning with protruding teeth, triumphant.
At that, several professors let out sounds of admiration. Countless illusionists cover the face when copying a person. With “facial expression,” even the tiniest change can create heterogeneity.
Yet the ten phantasmic constructs Gray had created were all still “drawings,” and they wore astonishingly elaborate expressions.
“In this way, unlike general illusion, Glass Butterfly has the resolution proportional to how much you love the subject, so...”
As she went on explaining— “They’re all awkward though....” Gray couldn’t hold it in and shouted.
“Kollider!!”
Yelp! A shout burst out.
Silence sank over the lecture hall.
Professor Kollider, who had drawn everyone’s gaze, hunched and smiled faintly.
“...Did you hear that?”
“Shut that mouth?”
“...I’m sorry.”
And simultaneously—
The professors guffawed and started finding Gray adorable.
“Heyyy↗?! Don’t laugh!”
Even as she yelled, “Oh dear, sorry~” “We were in the wrong~” they cackled and giggled.
Yes. This was the second problem.
Gray had no gravitas as a professor!
They had been facing one another in lectures for nearly half a year now. Gray already had a blithe, not-very-dignified personality and couldn’t exactly bring these older professors to heel. As time passed, now whenever she got angry those aged old monsters tittered and loved it.
In the midst of that, overly eager Gray blurted that she would push through back-to-back lectures until she taught Glass Butterfly properly to everyone!
'↗I was out of my mind!'
Thinking about it, that was it. What is a professor? A reinforced version of a grad student. What is a grad student? A reinforced version of a cadet. What is a cadet? A reinforced version of an elementary schooler.
In short! A professor is the final form of an elementary schooler!
“Can’t you see I’m serious?! You little grade-schoolers!”
Even when Gray raised a fist and got mad, they found her cute.
“You all better expect today’s assignment to be ten times bigger!”
Even when she threatened, they found her cute.
“What are you laughing at!”
She even smacked Wolfgang Yussef on the head, and for some reason they found that adorable.
“I don’t want to lecture anymore....”
In the end, Professor Gray sulked!
Only then did the professors go “Ah!” and start coaxing her.
Such was that lecture period.
“.......”
But Gray didn’t have anything more to say either. She had at least a minimal conscience, and somehow it felt like the karma she had accumulated was returning to her as-is.
Thus Gray had to sprint through twelve lectures a day.
“.......”
She loved lecturing, but it took a lot out of her.
“.......”
Day by day, she was wearing down.
⋮
That day, after finishing her schedule, Gray, dead tired, trudged toward the Closed Zone.
In a deserted gas-station building, the smell of fuel was sweet. This was Gray’s hideout. Shortened as “G-zit.”
When she went inside the gas station, a man was blankly staring out.
“You came.”
It was Dante Hiakapo.
“You told me to come.”
“Yeah.”
“Then I have to come.”
Gray pushed up the corners of her mouth and smiled weakly.
“Eh... but Professor, you always pretend to be busy.”
“I did. Not anymore. There’s nothing left to keep me busy.”
“Really?”
Gray carefully approached and hopped up to sit on Dante’s lap.
If you’re from the Habanero family, this is something anyone, regardless of age or gender, does. Usually Dante would get all stern and lift her off, but now he didn’t refuse.
“Can I stay here?”
“Yeah.”
Gray leaned into his arms. Broad. And comfortable. Gray, who hates external stimulation and feels like she’s going to lose her mind from being pushed to the limit every day, finds stability when she comes here.
In the Habanero family, the most important person is surprisingly always a commoner. That being is the butler each family member has one of. They live leaning on the butler. They demand comfort from the butler. A person who never refuses that can become a butler.
Frankly it’s a fairly exploitative relationship, yet the butlers seemed oddly satisfied. Gray had known the reason since childhood. It’s because I’m cute. What can anyone do about it? I was born cute.
So she was dissatisfied. Dante was different. This guy hardly ever found her cute.
But—
Lately, he seemed a bit different.
“Today Kollider, and Wolfgang....”
When she chattered about what happened that day, Dante listened, laughing or sympathizing.
“You’re just getting paid back your own karma. Didn’t you used to sabotage Kollider’s lectures like that?”
“Shut up.”
Indeed. Different. In these past few months, he had definitely changed.
In the past, if she brought up these trivial stories, he wouldn’t even pretend to listen. These days, when they met, he treated her with quite a bit of familiarity.
“Professor.”
“I’ll listen.”
Then... though it was a bit embarrassing, maybe today she could ask for this?
“Gray is cute.”
“Cute.”
Oh ho. Gray’s eyes went round.
“...And?”
For some reason he read her exactly. Dante started stroking Gray’s hair.
She liked that touch, that warmth, that carefulness.
In perfect tranquility Gray slowly closed her eyes.
“Will you come again tomorrow?”
Gray didn’t need much.
“Yeah. I’ll come tomorrow too.”
“...Mm.”
With just this, Gray could go to work again tomorrow.
***
The face of King Hiaka III was brightening day by day.
The dementia he’d been forced into by Summerneken’s stratagem was gone. Now vigor had returned to that aging face.
“Summon the Hero Party to my house.”
Accordingly, merit evaluation and the conferment of honors began from the Hiaka royal family.
The siege of Summerneken was recognized across the entire continent.
Led by Glory, the Hero Party had risked death and won that great campaign.
The king intended to make this conferment, for all to see, the highest-level ceremony on the entire continent.
However, when Glory was called in beforehand for the apportioning of merit, didn’t the man blurt this out?
“...I will not receive the honors.”
“Are you saying you refuse?”
“...Yes.”
“Why?”
“Those honors are not right.”
The royal bureaucrat Hebiten dropped his jaw, glanced around at the others’ eyes, then blinked again.
“No, what on earth are you, wh-what are you saying... what do you mean ‘not right’?”
“...No matter how I think about it, this ceremony is to put us on a pedestal.”
“Well, of course? It’s an occasion to discuss merit and give awards...”
“...We did not fully stop the Summerneken War. We have excuses, yes, but in the end many deaths occurred, and even now the pain hasn’t subsided. Celebration and mourning are not to be held together. Being treated as heroes is all the more shameful.”
“.......”
The bureaucrat shut his mouth for a moment.
What on earth was this about.
Of course, the logic was understandable, but.......
'Huhh.'
By now, matters about Glory had gotten plenty of media coverage. They said he was mysterious, but also a bit stiff-necked. He hardly compromised.
But still—
“It is a royal command, you know?”
“...If it is right, I obey even an enemy’s command, even a child’s command.”
“.......”
Even after that the bureaucrat visited several more times to persuade Glory, but Glory did not accept the honors.
Was that all?
“Lord Glory. His Highness says he will substitute the ceremony with a First-Class Guardian of the Kingdom medal and a reward of thirty million Hika.”
Refusal.
“Hear this, Glory. Duke Bartois has petitioned His Highness to elevate you to a capital noble title.”
Refusal.
“Hero Glory!! I, Corps Commander Hakalema, in honor of your exploits grant you a fief across the northern borderlands! This is an unrefusable summons of the Royal Army...!!”
Refusal.
“Greetings. I believe this is our first time exchanging courtesies. I am Vulkan, Dean of the Warrior Department at Hiaka Academy. Not to belabor the point—Sir Glory, as an honorary professor......”
Refusal.
— Ah, hello? Mr. Glory? Uh, wait, who am I, you ask....
Refusal.
Refusal.
Refusal!
“Are you in your right mind, Glory?”
Professor Dante, unable to watch any longer, came to click his tongue.
“What.”
“Why refuse all that. You could accept it and use it as disaster-relief funds at least.”
“No. Every one of those was honors on a national scale led by the royal family. That is money to be used for the people.”
“Nope. It was His Majesty the King’s lobster money.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“No, because you didn’t accept the honors, His Majesty is eating lobster while crying. Thanks to you only his belly fat has increased.”
“What childish wordplay is that? The royal family...”
“Why cling to useless stubbornness. What’s wrong with the nation creating a hero?”
“I said it isn’t that? And who said I dislike it? But that can wait until the state funeral is over—!”
“Shut up! Everyone lives leaning on others. Those who fall look at those who are standing and gain the strength to rise. In the hardest time, the nation publicly declared you as the one people can most lean on, and you kicked that away and act smug as if you did well? You moronic bastard.”
“.......”
He kept saying “no,” about to flare up and argue, but at those words Glory clamped his mouth shut.
Because something resonated.
“When given, know how to receive.”
⋮
Glory went anywhere help was needed. Then one day he strolled through the incense-lit memorial hall at Hiaka Academy.
There, a child grabbed him. So nervous they couldn’t even bring themselves to say his name, a hesitating child. Glory, who’d run away even when a royal vice-minister shouted, had to stop at that hesitation. He had to be caught.
The child, stammering, said their mother was a professor who had been badly hurt, but that he had saved her.
Those eyes, bright like they were looking at a hero out of °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° myth.
The hero wished the child and mother happiness and parted.
But then—
“Um.... H-hero....”
Suddenly the child ran up and grabbed him.
“This, th—this....”
Then held out a single yellow flower.
“...This.”
“What is this?”
“D-dandelion....”
Glory received a single yellow flower from the child.
“.......”
⋮
Time passed, and Glory became a happy homeless man.