Chapter 2.2
There seemed to be a hint of obsession in her voice as she sought re-confirmation, but I readily agreed and leaned my body against the back of the bench.
Then, I noticed workers carrying tables and chairs through the groups of students walking across the campus.
“Levi, look over there. It looks like they’re moving things to use for the Spring Picnic next week, doesn’t it?”
“Seeing as they’re headed toward the garden, it seems so.”
As the Academy aimed for the acquisition of culture appropriate to one’s status as well as private exchange between nobles, there were various events.
The Spring Picnic was a type of party where tables were set out in the western garden of the Academy when the flowers were in full bloom, where people drank tea and listened to musical performances.
However, there was a different reason why the ‘Spring Picnic’ was called the pinnacle of Academy social events.
‘The curtain finally rises on the war of networking.’
Since it was an event for drinking tea and enjoying music together at garden tables, the most important thing at the picnic was seat selection.
Because it was an opportunity as the heir of a family to reveal which family’s line one intended to stand in.
‘In a political situation where the fight for the throne between the 1st and 2nd Princes is as fierce as it is now, it might be advantageous to decide on a position as quickly as possible.’
As all the nobles of the Empire passed through the Academy, the connections made at the picnic influenced joining social circles and even future politics.
The problem was the fact that the seating for the picnic was not designated in advance.
“By now, the children of influential families will be coordinating among themselves on which seats to take. They’ll be setting their priorities for recruitment, too.”
The picnic was also a testing ground to gauge the information-gathering and networking abilities of those who would later become members of high society.
Furthermore, this year, both the 1st and 2nd Princes were scheduled to attend the picnic, so the information war would be fiercer than any other year.
Hearing my words, Ayla asked with slightly worried eyes.
“Levi, did you happen to…… receive an invitation card?”
An invitation card.
It was a type of invitation asking if someone would like to come and converse near the seat they had decided to occupy.
Perhaps showing the strength of Heron by pulling out every ounce of my soul during the <Demonology> lecture had worked, because several people who were in that spot that day had sent me invitation cards.
“Yes. I received ten.”
Even though I was called the family’s defective product, it seemed the honor of the House of Heron that my father had built up was quite solid.
Hearing my answer, Ayla asked back with a blank face.
“T-ten cards?”
“Yes. One card sent by the son of my father’s close friend, two cards from a family that recently started a munitions industry, two cards from children of knightly families, and the rest from people I don’t know.”
“Ah…… as expected, the clothes you wore during the <Demonology> lecture matched your eyes so well.”
Ayla despaired, muttering unintelligible laments in a small voice.
It was behavior that was hard for me to understand.
‘I’m sure Ayla received a few cards, too.’
Even if she didn’t have a good reputation yet and seemed like a nobody to the children of families with power in central politics, Ayla was still Ayla.
Even if she wore a modest dress on her gaunt body, she was beautiful enough that one couldn’t take their eyes off her, so there surely would be men who took a liking to her and sent invitation cards.
There was even a son of a Count who had shyly called out to Ayla while she was talking to me a few days ago.
“Ayla. How many did you receive?”
When I asked with that specific fluttering heart one gets when spectating someone else’s love life, for some reason, a sharp answer came back.
“It’s not important how many invitation cards I received, Levi.”
“Hmm?”
“It looks like I’ll end up sitting at a different table than you…… sigh, I’ll work a bit harder to become a woman—no, a friend—who is worthy of you.”
Muttering in a voice tinged with obsession, Ayla made a dejected face and tightly held my hand.
‘Is it because she doesn’t have other friends yet?’
Thinking that way, it was understandable that she didn’t want to be apart from me, her only friend.
I patted Ayla’s hand to reassure her.
“It’s okay. I don’t intend to accept any of the table invitations I received anyway.”
When I answered simply, Ayla stared into my eyes as if asking what that meant.
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