The Protagonist's Party is Too Diligent

“Hoo...”

Claire finally exhaled a deep breath of relief after parting ways with the two princesses.

The students who had been surrounding them now directed their gazes at Claire and Leo briefly, then went their own way, wearing amused expressions. Claire, however, didn’t seem to care.

“Thank goodness...”

“What do you mean, thank goodness?!”

Leo, who had been holding in his anxiety, finally burst out with frustration as he heard Claire’s muttering.

Passing students threw glances at the two, but Leo was too worked up to pay any attention.

“She’s a princess! And not just any princess, a real one! How could you just approach her like that? What if she got mad at you?”

Despite Leo’s panic, Claire’s expression remained unchanged.

“It’s fine. The princess—no, Alice, said it herself. We’re all just students here. We should treat them the same way.”

Leo pulled at his hair, walking behind Claire as she made her way toward the classroom.

“Come on, you know that was just her being polite! We’ve been to noble banquets before. When dukes or counts tell you to relax and speak freely, you don’t actually do it! What would’ve happened if we did?”

“Banquets are different from school. Banquets end in a day.”

“Which is why you should be even more careful! We’re going to be here for four years!”

Even after hearing Leo’s exasperated pleas, Claire remained unfazed.

“Hmm... did she cut her hair, or is it just easier to manage it that way? Maybe she didn’t cut it before because she couldn’t?”

“...Excuse me, are you even listening?”

Leo waved his hand in front of Claire’s face as she mumbled to herself.

“Hello? My dear sister?”

The word "sister" immediately drew a frown from Claire’s otherwise serene face. It wasn’t a deep wrinkle, but enough to show her annoyance.

“You haven’t even had your birthday yet, so how can you call yourself my older brother? I was born first, so I should be the elder one.”

It was a debate they had been having since childhood.

Claire was born a few months before Leo, but in Leo’s eyes, Claire was someone who had come into the family later. As children, Leo had often looked after Claire, who knew nothing of noble life when she first came to the family.

Leo’s role as her caretaker made him feel like the older sibling, but Claire, based on her birth date, insisted she was the elder.

Over the years, their many arguments over this issue had led to three wins for Leo, three for Claire, and two draws. With identical records, neither had a reason to argue further.

Of course, Claire’s birthdate was just what she remembered, and its accuracy was uncertain. Claire herself didn’t know why she thought of that day as her birthday, only that she had remembered it as such since before she arrived at the orphanage in the Grace Barony.

“Well, it seems like you’re finally back to normal.”

“My mind is always clear.”

“Right, because a clear mind is what rushes up to not one, but two princesses, right?”

“Who rushed?”

“You, Claire Grace! Daughter of a baron!”

Leo pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

“...Anyway, Her Highness—”

“Alice.”

“What?”

“She told us to call her Alice. Remember? The one you keep calling ‘Her Highness.’”

“...”

Leo closed his eyes in frustration and pressed harder on his nose, as if the pressure could relieve his growing headache.

That’s going to leave a mark, Claire thought as she watched him.

“Look, just because Alice said we’re equals in the academy, it doesn’t mean you can just ignore everything. You saw it too, didn’t you? Alice didn’t bow to the headmaster.”

“...”

Leo had a point, one that Claire couldn’t easily argue against.

Once a soldier, always a soldier. It was a well-known saying, embodying the spirit of the Empire’s military. It didn’t matter who first said it or where it came from; the principle was widely accepted.

Even if it wasn’t an official motto, it was a concept that soldiers lived by. A soldier who had sworn loyalty to a person or institution maintained their dignity and never brought dishonor to those they served, even after retirement.

The headmaster, Abraham Fitzgerald Winterfield, was one of those soldiers. A living legend, anyone who studied even a bit of the Empire’s military history—basically anyone attending the academy—would have heard his name.

He was a pioneer of modern warfare, responsible for innovations like machine gun emplacements, trench warfare, modern ammunition belts, and tank tactics. His legacy was so great that the Empire’s current main battle tanks were named “Abraham” in his honor.

Alice had not bowed to this living legend because, in her eyes, he was still a soldier. A soldier who had retired, but who remained loyal to the Empire. If the Empire were ever threatened, he would return to the frontlines without hesitation. In her mind, he was still a loyal servant of the Imperial family.

“...”

“See? You’ve got nothing to say, do you?”

Leo let out a deep sigh.

“Think about it. Even if Alice said we’re all equal here, if we start speaking casually while other noble students still use formal titles, won’t that make us stand out? Wouldn’t that make Alice seem too informal, no matter what she says?”

“Hmm.”

For a brief moment, Claire seemed lost in thought.

“But Alice doesn’t strike me as someone who would care about that. If anything, I think she’d be colder to people who are overly formal with her.”

“...”

Leo dragged his hand down his face in exasperation.

“Anyway.”

After walking in silence for a few moments, Leo spoke again.

“Earlier, when you said you were relieved... what did you mean by that? You don’t mean...”

“Yes,” Claire interrupted, smiling brightly.

“She said her name was Sylvia. That’s the name of my sister.”

“Sylvia Black,” Leo corrected her. His eyes darted nervously around the corridor. A few students glanced in their direction, but it seemed they were just curious about the boy and girl walking together, not eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Well, I’m Claire Grace, and no one has a problem with that when I introduce myself.”

Of course, Leo would inherit the title of the barony, but that didn’t concern Claire.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Leo said, scratching the back of his head.

“Even if she is the Sylvia you remember...”

“She is,” Claire said firmly.

“...”

Leo pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. In his mind, the shared name was a coincidence.

Living in the Grace Barony meant hearing stories about the Imperial family from time to time. The Baron had been granted his title by the Emperor himself, after all.

Because of that, they had heard many detailed rumors about the Emperor’s adopted children. The Baron and his wife had made sure Leo, the future heir, understood the dangers of discussing those rumors openly. Leo knew that such talk could cost him his head.

Everyone knew the Emperor’s children weren’t biologically related to him. Their backgrounds were shrouded in mystery, with the official story being that they were orphans of noble or heroic families. But no one really believed that, except maybe some remote barons or poorly informed peasants.

More ominous rumors circulated among the nobility: that the Emperor was training an elite assassination squad and that his “children” were survivors of brutal training.

Whatever the truth, no one believed those children were merely orphans plucked from the streets.

The Sylvia that Claire remembered seemed almost superhuman, but Leo had his doubts. How reliable could the memories of a child be?

To Leo, the most logical conclusion was that Claire’s Sylvia had disappeared while traveling to the Grace Barony—lost or left behind. That seemed like the most realistic scenario.

And it wasn’t as if Claire hadn’t met people named Sylvia before. Some of them had black hair and eyes, and at least one of them had been named Sylvia Black. Claire had gotten her hopes up, spoken to them, and each time had been disappointed.

After several such encounters, Claire had stopped mentioning her search for Sylvia altogether. For the past two years, she hadn’t spoken of it at all.

Leo had witnessed Claire’s growing disillusionment firsthand.

That was why her newfound certainty about this Sylvia struck Leo as so strange. What had changed?

...He’d get to that later.

For now, there was something Leo needed to address.

“Alright, let’s say you’re right, and she is the Sylvia you remember.”

Claire puffed out her cheeks slightly at his skeptical tone, but Leo continued.

“If Sylvia really is that person, do you think it’s right to bring up her past like that? Would she appreciate it? You have to think about how she’d feel.”

“Ah...”

It seemed Claire, caught up in her excitement at finally finding her lost sister, hadn’t considered that.

Leo let out another sigh and continued.

“And even if you remember her, she might not remember you. If you just rush up to her and start talking, it could give her the wrong impression.”

“...You’re right.”

Claire’s expression dimmed, and she nodded seriously.

She wore a slightly bitter smile.

“...Don’t worry too much about it,” Leo said, trying to console her.

“If she really is the person you remember, she’ll recognize you too. Even if it doesn’t happen right away, she’ll eventually remember. If she’s as capable as you say, she probably hasn’t forgotten her childhood.”

“Alright.”

Claire clenched her fist as if to motivate herself, and Leo shrugged.

He still didn’t think Sylvia Black and Sylvia Pangryphon were the same person. Even when they had seen Sylvia after the exams, Claire hadn’t reacted strongly. Was it just because she had only seen her in passing?

The Sylvia that Claire had described was much kinder and more nurturing. Leo couldn’t picture the current Sylvia Pangryphon sitting down with a child, telling them stories from the past.

“Oh, by the way, we’re not in the same class as those two, are we?”

Claire’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t know?”

“We’ve already been assigned to the same class as Alice and Sylvia,” Claire said, smiling.

“Wha—?”

Leo’s face, which had just returned to a normal color, turned pale again.