Academy Heroine’s Right Diagonal Back Seat

Chapter 37



Chapter: 37

Thursday morning, the class president was walking around the classroom, asking the kids whether they were joining any clubs.

Surprisingly, even Aegis Academy had various extracurricular activities, considering it was a school after all.

Besides the cooking club I joined, there were all sorts of odd clubs like the Monster Research Club and the History Study Club. It was a bit fascinating since the original work never mentioned any extracurricular activities.

_Academy trope: Once the story progresses, it tends to stray away from the academy setting._

In The Holy Sword of the Academy, this transition came relatively early.

As the story progressed, it became impossible for the characters to leisurely enjoy such activities.

The class president, who approached, asked Yoon Si-woo and Sylvia, sitting in front of me, if they were joining any clubs, and both shook their heads.

It seemed they hadn’t joined any clubs from the start.

Joining a club was optional, so quite a few students opted out.

Honestly, what meaning does it hold to force someone into extracurricular activities?

“Scarlet, have you joined any clubs?”

At the class president’s question, I nodded.

At that, the president, along with Yoon Si-woo and Sylvia, who were sneakily peeking at me, showed expressions of surprise.

Is it really that shocking that I joined a club?

“Can you tell me which club?”

“The cooking club.”

“The cooking club… got it.”

Upon hearing my answer, the president made a thoughtful expression for a moment, scribbled something on the paper he was holding, then nodded and moved on to ask the other students.

“Scarlet, you’ve joined the cooking club, right?”

“…For now, yes.”

After the president left, Sylvia turned to me and asked.

When I responded, Sylvia thought for a moment before nodding.

“Now that I think about it, you did say those macarons you gave me were homemade, right? It’s a shame that I can’t join the same club as you because of my family obligations…”

Seeing Sylvia looking genuinely disappointed tugged at my heartstrings.

While my heart felt heavy, her ears perked up, so I pulled out some macarons from my bag and handed them to her.

As Sylvia took the macarons I offered, she looked apologetic.

“Thank you… I always feel like I’m just receiving from you, and I want to give something back…”

“There’s… there’s really no need. I’m just giving them because I want to…”

I quickly shook my head, firmly refusing.

Just being friends with someone like me was enough.

Receiving a sort of friendship tax from Sylvia, what even is that?

A reverse friendship world?

While I was lost in those thoughts, I felt Yoon Si-woo’s gaze.

Seeing him look at me with a somewhat forlorn expression was unsettling, so I shot him a glare, causing him to flinch and look down.

*

After classes were over, nearly all the students left the school, except for those enjoying their extracurricular activities.

I sat there blankly on the empty patch of land next to the gymnasium, watching construction being carried out.

Whether it was magical powers or something else, building materials floated around, aligning themselves piece by piece, slowly taking shape.

What was being constructed outside resembled a wall more than a door.

It didn’t seem like something you could push open or close but more like a shutter that could be raised or lowered.

Either way, it looked incredibly sturdy.

Even though the construction probably started yesterday, it already seemed quite advanced.

It looked like it would be finished by Monday; however, wanting to confirm, I approached someone who seemed to be the construction supervisor and asked.

My question might have seemed somewhat pressing, but the man, presumably the supervisor, looked at me and chuckled, saying it would be done by tomorrow at the latest.

Being a student at this academy was somewhat convenient in times like this.

Heroes were generally seen as similar to soldiers in the real world, and people typically didn’t mind giving them a hard time since they risked their lives to protect them.

In a peculiar country where the majority of men were required to serve in the military for several years for some reason, there were indeed some exceptions, but usually, that was the law.

Standing still and gazing at the ongoing construction after hearing the response, the supervisor, perhaps bored, began to talk to himself about various complaints.

He complained about work that had been planned ahead of time but suddenly changed under orders from higher-ups, leading to his struggles with apologies to others. His face reminded me of a previous boss I had.

It seems mid-level management feels stressed in various ways, no matter where they work.

Using that experience as a basis, I offered a few words of comfort, and it seemed to genuinely please him, as his eyes were filled with kindness.

After a brief chat, I told him to make sure to construct something solid before going back home.

He laughed at my words, confidently assuring me that no ordinary monster would even scratch it.

That assurance helped slightly ease my concerns.

I returned home, prepared to end the day, and lay down.

With my eyes closed, I recalled the people I had met since coming here.

In the original work, they were just passerby citizens without names.

But seeing them in person, they were far more than beings that could be expressed in a few letters.

Each one was simply an ordinary person.

They weren’t expendable cogs to be sacrificed for the progression of a story.

Yet all I could do for them was install a single door.

Ultimately, I was just another ordinary character, not the protagonist.

I had no idea how the actions I took might alter the future.

Anxiety made my hands tremble.

Unable to endure the overwhelming feeling of powerlessness, I clasped my hands together.

And in my heart, I quietly murmured.

Please, let us at least pass through Monday safely…

Being just one ordinary person, I had no choice but to pray to a god that might or might not exist.

*

Friday, after eating lunch and relaxing, I found a text message on my phone.

[To celebrate our entry into the cooking club, I’m going to whip up something delicious, so gather at the cafeteria after school!]

It was a text from Leonor.

She had mentioned she cooked in the kitchen every Friday.

With no real reason to refuse, I replied that I’d be there.

This would be the first time since coming here that I’d eat something other than soybeans for dinner.

For the record, the twenty pieces of macarons didn’t count as a meal.

That was not a meal…

Eating just soybeans too often might make me monotonous, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a breather with something different.

If the soybeans were the partner I was dating, tonight’s dinner would feel like a casual fling.

I could already imagine the soybeans in the fridge sulking if they found out I’d be having something richer with the pocket money from a suspicious-looking man. But as long as they didn’t find out, there’d be no problem!

Thinking about an exciting dish that would fill me in ways soybeans never could made my stomach _grumble_ with anticipation.

Class, hurry up and end!

As soon as class was over, I bounced eagerly toward the cafeteria.

Upon arriving, I spotted Leonor smiling and waving her hand.

I bowed my head in greeting and looked at her with great expectation.

Seeing the eagerness in my eyes, she pulled out a keychain and waved it.

The tag on the key read “cooking room key.”

Hearing the jingling of the keys made my mouth water uncontrollably.

Like Pavlov’s dog…

“Wait a moment, there are still some other people coming.”

Aww, I’m just a lil’ baby! I don’t know about that. Quick, gimme my food!

Grumbling internally about having to wait, I figured the other person would probably be another member of the cooking club and waited patiently.

Then I saw someone enter the cafeteria.

It was the class president.

What are you doing here?

As I was stunned by the unexpected visitor, the class president approached and greeted Leonor.

“I’m Mei from class 1-A, who applied yesterday. I look forward to working with you.”

“Right. Nice to meet you. I heard someone from your class joined too yesterday. I was going to cook something special to celebrate your joining, and since you’re in the same class, I invited this person. You two are friends, right?”

Leonor asked if I was close with the class president.

The class president was trying hard to seem nonchalant, but she was intently listening to my answer.

How could I possibly say no here!

When I nodded, the class president’s face brightened.

Looking at the class president with a tender gaze, I noticed she scratched her cheek, seemingly shy.

“Well, then let’s do a welcome ceremony, so follow me.”

Leonor said with her characteristic joyous smile.

Watching this, the class president seemed to look a bit worried.

It seemed this was the first time the class president was meeting Leonor in person today. Given Leonor’s rough appearance, it was natural to feel uneasy when someone like her mentioned a welcome ceremony.

Moreover, historically, the character of the class president tends to be weak against delinquent characters – it’s a universal rule.

“Oh, speaking of which, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Leonor Lionelle from class 2-B. For now, I’m the president of the cooking club. Most of the other members are practically ghosts, so I’m really happy you both joined! If you have time on Fridays, let’s cook together!”

Leonor introduced herself to the class president as if it just dawned on her. Upon hearing her name, the class president’s eyes widened, and she scrutinized Leonor’s appearance, nodding as if she had just realized something.

It seemed the class president had figured out where Leonor’s striking looks came from.

Typically, many heroines in academy stories have famous families, and it turned out Leonor’s father was also a well-known hero.

And she had fully inherited her father’s physical traits.

Her blonde tan? That’s a hereditary trait.

Honestly, I didn’t quite understand how that worked, but given there were elves and people with heterochromia in the class, I decided to let it slide.

Leonor unlocked the cooking room door with the key.

It was a space almost fully equipped, comparable to a hotel kitchen. I was surprised, but the real deal was within the refrigerator that Leonor opened with a smile.

The fridge was packed with all sorts of ingredients.

It was on another level compared to our fridge at home, which only held macarons and soybeans.

What was even more shocking was Leonor’s comment as she looked at the fridge.

“All the ingredients here are leftovers, so feel free to use them.”

What… did she just say?

Looking at Leonor with trembling eyes, she smiled and said, “Isn’t this worth 100,000 gold?”

I nodded.

100 soybeans… you’ve certainly earned your keep…

“Today, I’ll cook to welcome you, so is there anything in particular either of you would like to eat?”

When Leonor asked this, I turned to look at the class president.

And just then, our eyes met.

“We should eat whatever Scarlet wants.”

Ah! I was about to say that!

Under attack from the “Let’s eat what you want, Scarlet” assault from the class president, I stared intently into the fridge.

In the midst of serious contemplation regarding the age-old dilemma that countless philosophers have pondered without a clear answer, “What should we eat for dinner?” I noticed something alluring with delicate white flesh inside the fridge.

As if entranced, I uttered its name.

“Chicken… fried chicken sounds good.”

It seemed I had come up with the answer to that challenging question.

Meat is always delicious, and among them, chicken is always a correct choice.

That was an answer that felt infinitely close to the truth.

Upon hearing my reply, Leonor pulled out some chicken from the fridge.

“Fried chicken? Sounds great. How about we prepare one for each of us?”

“Four.”

“Can you handle eating two by yourself? That sounds tough.”

I nodded confidently at Leonor, who was eyeing me dubiously regarding my ability to consume four.

Four chicken pieces… no, four chickens! Totally doable!

Realizing my unwavering determination, Leonor shook her head as if there was no other option and retrieved four chickens.

The sound of the breaded chicken frying in oil was a beautiful melody to my ears, causing my mouth to _water_ involuntarily.

Chicken is an expensive dish.

Franchise chicken typically costs about 16,000 to 20,000 won per piece.

Some people ask why a single chicken costs so much, but I loved it enough that it felt worth every penny.

Of course, even though I loved chicken, I rarely got to enjoy it anymore since growing up and working.

The first chicken I ever ate was a 10,000 won whole chicken my dad brought home for my birthday.

That day, I cried in gratitude because I couldn’t believe something so delicious existed.

Leonor removed the fried chicken from the oil, letting it drain before placing it on a plate.

In front of me were two beautifully golden-brown fried chickens.

I snagged one of the legs, popping it into my mouth.

The leg, often considered the tastiest part of the chicken by most, delivered salty, crispy skin and juicy, tender flesh.

Dad had one, I had one, and mom couldn’t eat legs.

If only there were three legs, mom could share too!

That’s why, for a brief time in my childhood, I dreamed of becoming a scientist.

I wanted to create a chicken with about 100 legs.

Why 100? Because I learned that when you divide by three, there’s a remainder of one.

The remaining one should be given to mom since she couldn’t eat that day.

After tearing off the legs and devouring the wings, only the often criticized, flavor-challenged breast meat remained.

While it tasted fine, it still felt inferior compared to the other parts.

Objectively, I think the breast is the least flavorful part of the chicken.

Anyone who prefers chicken breast over legs must be a bit peculiar.

After dad disappeared and our family situation turned a bit tougher, days went by without getting to eat chicken on my birthday.

After eating tasteless greens for days, I casually mentioned wanting chicken, and the next day mom bought one from the market and fried it up.

Though it wasn’t as good as the whole chicken dad had brought, it was still delicious.

I would have given the leftover leg to mom, but she preferred the breast, so I ended up eating both legs by myself.

I thought mom didn’t like chicken legs, which is why she hadn’t eaten them the first time we had chicken.

Why were those lean breast meats so plentiful? It made me suspicious about the chickens having developed upper body strength while their legs stayed so tender but sparse.

I found it a little hard to swallow when I popped two servings of breast meat into my mouth.

Realizing it later, when I went on a school trip in middle school, I noticed almost no one liked breast meat.

On that trip, a rich kid had treated the whole school, and I watched as kids fought over the drumsticks while leaving the breast pieces behind.

That evening, by the campfire, I remembered my mother, who had learned to enjoy the dryness for her child’s sake.

She had given up being ordinary because of me.

When I came back to reality, only the bones of the two pieces of chicken remained.

I wondered if I had somehow mastered the magic of making chicken vanish without even realizing it.

The class president and Leonor looked amazed at my feat.

I tossed the remaining bones into the large grinder in the corner, destroying the evidence, so the three girls present couldn’t be accused of entirely devouring four chickens.

I thanked Leonor for the delicious meal and told the class president I’d see her again next Monday.

Before we parted ways, I handed Leonor 3,000 gold and received a piece of mana herb.

As I exited the cafeteria, I noticed how close the construction was to completion, as a heavy wall that passed for a door slowly descended to block the gym entrance.

With the gym now closed off, it appeared like a fortress against dangers, which gave me a bit more comfort.

Returning home, I lay down on my bed, my hands trembling less than the day before.

I clasped my hands together and prayed desperately again.

May that wall protect us to continue activities like today.

With that thought, I spent the weekend.

Saturday.

Sunday.

And then, Monday morning dawned.



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