3

Nine months in the second year.

Time flies, doesn’t it? Before I knew it, the clouds had dropped low and the air turned sharp—just like that, another two-week cycle of live drills was upon us, and I’d already been counting the days.

“Phew—still cold, huh?”

Laying a hand on my arm, Rayla gazes up at the sky, heavy with clouds.

Snow might start falling any minute now. That’d make the drill more interesting, though.

Walking drills on the snowfield—could be fun. The shift in footing, different from usual, really changes how the machine handles.

Now that I think about it, does Armunale have a snowfield variant too? Haven’t seen any special custom machines around this town—nothing like that, at least.

If they’ve already got tire-type things like magic vehicles, why not have a few machines with wheels for legs? Hell, why not go all out and try out multi-legged or inverse-jointed designs? Gotta pitch that idea to the instructor next time.

“Dude, you got other things on your mind, right? If this keeps up, the New Year’s Festival might end up being the White New Year’s Festival.”

The voice came from just behind us, flat and dry. I turned around—there was Batis and Leon, walking up.

“White New Year’s Festival? What’s that?”

I’d seen the regular New Year’s Festival last year, but never heard of a white one. Feels kind of like a White Christmas, maybe.

“Back when snow whitens the whole town, you spend New Year’s Eve then, and the year’s bound to be lucky. Old superstition, really. Though it’s changed a fair bit these days.”

“Yeah, exactly. Spend the year’s end with your lover, just the two of you, and you’ll be happy for sure. That’s why everyone’s scrambling to find a partner this year.”

“Ah, so that’s why the crowd’s been so thick lately.”

I glance toward the school building. Windows are packed with students—mostly girls, six or seven out of ten—staring back. Some even have headbands on. Probably from the Support Maid program.

Pilots are the darlings of the Armunale Corps. Plus, nobles are drawn to them, and if you’re lucky, you could land a high-ranking match. So naturally, the girls are all over them.

Batis and Leon get proposals almost every day.

"I’d like them to think about the trouble they’re causing, you know. We don’t even have the right to choose our own lovers, to begin with."

Leon adjusted his glasses with a tired sigh.

They were from one of the higher-ranking noble families—so high, in fact, that love had no place in their marriage. You know, the usual political match.

The younger sons, especially the second or third, felt it most strongly. It made sense, really—this was their chance to tie their family to another through blood and bond.

Still, the one thing saving them was that they were the ones doing the choosing, not the ones being picked.

Good thing. Not stuck with some weird old creep as a husband.

"Anyway, can’t we just… date a bit? Playing with fire’s part of being a noble, right? You’re gonna take mistresses anyway, so what’s the harm in picking one early?"

“Which idiot tried to stab me the other day…?”

“That was a scare, wasn’t it? Never thought I’d live through a scene like that at my age.”

Batis laughs it off, but having heard the full story from Leon, it sounds like a proper mess.

Batis… looks like the hero, but the guy’s got a lighter spirit than you’d expect.

“Should’ve just let ‘em stab you, really…”

“Rayla, don’t mutter things like that. Still, Batis, keep it down.”

“I know where to draw the line. No worries. Anyway—white New Year’s Festival. Eld, got no one, huh?”

“A lover, you mean?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know you, Eld—plenty of people’ve tried, haven’t they?”

Yeah, I’m top of the pilot class, so—gotta say, I’m not bad with the girls. One said it’s because I’m common-born. Nobles, they say, have different instincts—too much tension, so the nervous ones tend to drift toward me. Means fewer of those meat-eater types clinging to noble boys, and the pushy ones are mostly weak. Easy to brush off, really.

“Huh. Eld, you’re actually popular, huh?”

“What’re you talking about? I’m second on the list—pilot class boys who’d make a good lover. Right after me, of course.”

“Wait—what’s that list? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Second…”

Layla’s muttering to herself, hand on her chin, like she’s thinking.

Wait—second place, behind Leon? What’s going on here…?

While I’m thinking, Leon pulls a thin booklet from his pants pocket and flips through it like it’s nothing.

“According to this survey, those sleepy eyes are a hit. Looks kind and like they’d carry your bags. Would smile and nod even if you’re late. Seems like they’d help with chores. Probably take the lead when it comes to kids. Stuff like that.”

“Wait—so he’s basically a walking convenience store? Gimme that!”

“Guess that makes me the aggressive type, and him the cool one. Two great towers, right?”

I snatch the booklet from Leon’s hand and flip through it. Sure enough, it’s full of stuff like that.

Some answers are wild—like, ‘would forgive cheating,’ or ‘would turn into my wallet.’ Seriously, are these people even real about me?

Wait—why am I second? If it’s about the two great towers, shouldn’t it be热血-type Batis and cool-type Leon?

That thought, I start looking for Leon’s page.

Leon was ranked fourth on the list of who I’d want as a lover.

“Fourth place for Leon?”

“Being clear about saying no is important, too.”

Leon says that with a straight face, but judging by the survey results written there, that’s probably not even worth saying.

Because—

・I want to be scolded by that smug look of his.

・I want to be kicked while being insulted. Even better if it’s something worse.

・I want to be Leon’s pet. I want a collar on my neck and to be dragged around.

And so on. Way too extreme in a different direction from me or Batis. A den of masochists. Don’t think you can write anything just because it’s anonymous!

“And then, the surprise is third place.”

“Huh? Yeah, I guess that’s surprising, all right.”

Third place was certainly unexpected—though not entirely surprising to me. I’d half-expected it, really. Not much shock there.

I keep glancing at Rayla, still muttering to herself. She notices me looking and turns toward me.

“W-what?!”

“Congrats. Third on the ‘want to date’ list. Beat Leon, you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

She snatches the booklet from my hands.

Answer:

— That sharp look of yours is stunning. I want to be stared at by you.

— You’re amazing, keeping the top spot among all those boys.

— Kids aren’t needed. I’ve got love, that’s enough.

Yeah, right. I mean, acting like a knight all the time’ll get you that kind of attention. But only I know—only I know how soft her thighs are.

“So, seriously—anyone actually doing it? You know, with the drool and all?”

“Nah. Not me. I’ve got sword drills during New Year’s Festival, remember?”

It’s been over a year now—Rene and me, training every single day. No breaks. Not even one. Miss a day, and it takes three to catch up.

“Then you’re stuck with that person for New Year’s Eve. Hope you’re happy.”

“Like that’d happen. It’s gotta end by sunset. After that? Probably just a quick study session and bed. Gotta train again tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a real boring student life, huh!?”

Hey, cut it out. Most students are barely surviving through their years, not living the drama!

“Anyway, what about you?”

“Four friends or so—invited them over to my room for New Year’s. This year’s gonna be loud.”

“Can I hear the details?”

“Duh. One guy, four girls. Tried asking Leon, but he turned me down real quick.”

"Of course. Why should I be dragged into some idiotic ruckus? Our family’s always celebrated New Year’s Eve together, that’s how it’s always been."

Yeah, that’s probably the right way to do it. Honestly, Batis’ll get stabbed one of these days.

We’re all buzzing and chatting while waiting for class to start, when the instructor finally shows up.

The machines are already powered up and ready—just waiting for us to jump in and begin live drills. Though, knowing me, I’ll probably end up at the back of the line again.

I listen, half-dozing, as the instructor explains.

"Today, we’ll put everything we’ve learned to the test. You’ll be running combat exercises."

Yes, I’m fully revved up now! So it’s finally here—combat drills.

A year of drills—walking, swordplay, magic shooting, high-mobility maneuvers, falling practice, storage protocols—all building up to this moment.

Which also means the test is coming up.

Last year, I lost to Layla by the narrowest of margins. But this time, there’s a piloting test added. So it’s the first chance to catch up to perfect.

I glance at Layla. She’s looking at me, too. Same thought, probably.

“Layla, I’ll win this one.”

“Just like last year—I’ll squash you flat.”

Then let’s start with this exercise—let me show you a perfect score.

A light tap to the cheek to snap back to focus. I lean in, listening hard to the instructor’s words.

"Combat drills will involve destroying targets set up in both the grasslands and forest areas, following the designated route using sword and spell. Afterward, we’ll retrieve data from the analytical device mounted on the unit, analyze its maximum operational rate and efficiency, and decide each individual’s training direction from there. For this session, we’ve also invited the instructor from the Mobility Computation Unit (Senseboard) discipline. Everyone, please be mindful."

"Yes!"

Hmm. So basically, we’re attaching something like a flight recorder to the machine—like a black box—and pulling the data after. A rare chance to see how the Armunale feels about my movements.

If I push too hard, the machine’ll feel the strain. If I’m too cautious, it’ll think I’m not using its full potential.

Move it just right—push hard enough to bring out its best, but not so hard it’ll protest. That’s what top-tier piloting’s all about. My arms are humming.

Then, the instructor from the Mobility Calculation (Sense Board) department explains the recorder, goes over the course layout, and gives a rundown of the magic settings in place, getting everything ready for launch.

“Alright, explanations done. Got questions? Speak up now. I’ll answer—no, not really. Just jump in if you’re called. You two, mount up and get your systems warm. Well, to you, Lesta.”

“Got it!” “Understood!”

The two called leap onto their machines. The rest of the students slump their shoulders and fall back toward the school building.

Of course, I slump too—just like I expected.

Ah… so now it’s just watching from the sidelines, huh…

The drill went on, the number of participants dwindling. Batis and Leon had already finished, chatting about their thoughts. Honestly, I’m jealous. I want to be over there with them already.

“Next, Rayla and Faras.”

The moment her name was called, the air among the students froze.

Everyone here—teachers included—knew their relationship was sour. Of course, they all remembered that incident too.

Since then, the two hadn’t done a drill together once. Not even stood in line together. I thought the instructors were being careful, avoiding putting them side by side. But maybe… I was wrong?

Rayla stiffened for a split second when both her name and Faras’s were called together. Then she took a slow breath, and walked toward the machine.

Faras looked back at me—something sharp in his eyes. Was he really that angry at Layla? But Layla said she’d only just met Faras since arriving at the academy, and they hadn’t even spoken much.

The two climbed into their Armunale units and powered them up.

The two machines began to move slowly, stepping forward until they reached their starting positions.

I moved toward the instructor’s spot—high ground where I could watch both Armunale units clearly.

The instructor noticed me approaching but didn’t look up. Just spoke into the magic mic.

“Then we begin the combat drill. Ready… go!”

As the signal rang out, both Armunale units burst forward across the grass.

Layla’s machine took the lead—just a little ahead of Faras’s, cutting through the field with a steady rhythm.

After a moment, the first target came into view.

A round target tied to an iron pipe. Set up in the grasslands and forests, the drill’s main task is to smash them using the prescribed attack method.

First up: shockwave magic—Shock Burst.

Easy enough to hit if you’re standing still, but try doing it while running, and it’s a whole different story.

I was watching to see what the Rayla unit would do when it lifted its left hand—aiming straight at the target mounted on the left side of the machine. Looks like it’s going to fire without stopping.

Zudon. A heavy boom rang out. The Shock Burst, perfectly locked on, blasted the target to pieces. A second later, the same sound echoed from the Rayla unit’s right rear.

“Wha—!?”

That came from Faras’s unit, of course. But it shouldn’t be within range of Shock Burst’s effective range yet.

But, contrary to my expectations, Faras’s magic had cleanly destroyed the target meant for him. Still, that wasn’t the only thing that startled me.

Right after Faras’s unit fired, the Rayla unit—supposed to be ahead and to the left—wobbled out of balance.

“Wait—no way!”

“Overload from excessive Hyimagia Liquid supply, probably. Fired it wide—no aiming at all—full one-eighty-degree spread.”

“Isn’t that clearly interference?”

I raise my voice, but Gazul instructor just watches the two units’ movements, calm as ever.

“But the target was definitely destroyed. That’s not direct interference aimed at the other unit. And though it’ll be tough on Rayla, this might just be the perfect test.”

“A test?”

We’re counting on Rayla. That’s why we want to squash even the tiniest weakness, if we can.

Is that why you sent the two of them out together this time?

Yeah.

The fear I had toward the machine? Completely wiped out by my rough treatment. But when it came to Faras—the one who set that whole thing up—Rayla really did have a soft spot. Kept avoiding eye contact. Sat as far away from him as possible, like diagonally across the classroom.

The instructor must’ve noticed, too.

“Overcoming fear of people. Not easy. But if you can do it, your chances of holding your ground in battle go way up. That’s straight-up survival.”

“You’re right, instructor. But isn’t this a bit rushed? Back then with Armunale, we had no time—so the rough treatment was necessary. But with Faras, we’ve still got over a year.”

“No, Faras’ll probably be cut in this test.”

“Huh? But his grades were decent, weren’t they?”

As far as I remember, Faras was around sixth in our top group. If that’s the case, he should’ve been safe for third year…

“Grades alone don’t decide who becomes a pilot. Over the past two years, we’ve kept an eye on your daily habits—just casually, you know. Normal behavior’s fine. But he’s got too many red flags. Not just sabotaging classmates in his own subject, but looking down on students from other disciplines, and trouble in the dorms too. We can’t let someone like that move on to third year.”

“So it’s a rough cure, then.”

“Exactly. Keep this quiet. If the students find out, it’ll be a mess.”

“I’m a student too, you know…”

I watched the Rayla unit’s movements, silently willing it on, a wry smile on my face.

Even as we spoke, the Rayla unit kept taking shock bursts from the Faras unit—again and again—but still it smashed its targets with perfect precision, never letting the lead slip, diving straight into the forest zone.

Inside the forest, the orders were clear: destroy targets with blades only. Shock bursts wouldn’t work well—too many trees getting in the way, dampening the impact.

The Rayla unit weaved through the trunks with smooth, practiced ease, slicing each target clean with its sword. Then—suddenly—it launched itself into the woods like a headslide.

Right after, a single sword shot through the air where the Rayla unit had just been.

It cut through the sky and vanished into the trees.

Then, a light, teasing voice came through the mic.

“Oops. Got a little too loose on the grip there…”

The Faras unit froze mid-motion, sword raised high—except, of course, the sword wasn’t there. Must’ve slipped right out during the swing, like it was laughing at him.

“Not bothered. Saw it coming.”

“Tch. Annoying girl.”

“Compliment, darling.”

The Rayla unit crouched low, then launched forward again, like a sprinter at the starting line.

Faras smashed the target in front of it with a spare blade, then went after Rayla once more.

“Wasn’t that just a distraction?”

“Just slipped out. Still, if you’ve got that kind of skill in the air, you could’ve used it for something better than this. Maybe you’d be up to our level by now.”

“Personality really matters, doesn’t it?”

Yeah. Really. Thought that, deep down. But if Rayla saw that move coming—she was watching Faras real close. Doesn’t look worried at all, though.

Honestly, what worries me is just…

“Today’s drill’s gonna cost a pretty penny.”

“If it’s too much, that’ll end up on his family’s bill.”

“Ah, so there’s actually a proper agreement for that?”

“Yeah, sure.”

We’re all sweating over the Faras unit’s Hyimagia Liquid. It’s sucking up a ton of the concentrated mana fluid just to boost its magic output—pushing the machine hard enough to keep up with Rayla’s.

That kind of movement? Definitely burning through resources like fire through kindling. Just thinking about it gives me chills.

Before I can finish the thought, the drill’s reaching its climax.

Both machines burst from the woods, diving straight for the final target. Either sword or spell—doesn’t matter. Smash it, cross the finish line. Done.

Laira swung her blade as they passed, sword raised. The Falas unit, once again, chose Shock Burst.

No time to fuss now—clearly aimed straight at the Laira unit. Fire that, and it’s instant disqualification.

But the spell never launched.

“Hyimagia Liquid’s gone, huh?”

“Mobility Calculation Board’s locking in basic mobility by force, you know.”

Can move. Can’t cast magic.

In that moment, the Laira unit sliced through the target, splitting it clean in two mid-pass. Then kept going—crossed the finish line.

I met her as she stepped down from the machine.

“Good work. Tough one, huh?”

“Just a pain. At first, I was surprised, but with this machine by my side? Honestly, a real comfort.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Say, what about him? I figured he’d have one more shot left, you know?”

Layla scans the area, eyes darting left and right. But there’s no sign of Faras’s machine. Well, that’s to be expected.

“Over there.”

I point behind Layla, toward the direction the machine came from. There, slowly trudging toward the finish line, is Faras’s machine.

“Pfft. What’s that?”

“Out of fuel. You can’t just blast magic like that and expect it to last.”

“Oh my, how tragic. Everyone’s watching from the school windows.”

A bunch of maids in uniforms line the classroom windows, no doubt watching. Being forced to walk like that must be torture.

“Next up’s Eld’s turn. Don’t blink.”

“Yeah, don’t go fainting on me.”

“Yeah, yeah, good luck.”

We gave each other a high-five, and Rayla headed off to the instructor to collect the recorded data.

Watching her go, I looked up at the机体 on its knees and clenched my high-fived fist tight.