This Novel is not my Novel

The Special Class for Awakened Ones consisted of only nine students.

It was a small class, yet still too large for everyone to fit into a single carriage.

And it wasn't just people who needed seats.

Yor, the baby dragon measuring a meter and a half from head to tail, and Lausa, the ninety-centimeter eagle, had to ride as well.

Even the largest eight-seat carriage couldn't accommodate all of us.

So there was no choice but to split into two six-seat carriages.

"Since the whole point is to get to know one another better, it would defeat the purpose if people who are already close all rode together, wouldn't it?"

"Then why don't we split by gender? It's almost even anyway—four men and five women. People generally feel more comfortable around those of the same sex, so it should make things less awkward."

Fjodora opened the discussion, and Pret calmly offered his suggestion.

As far as I was concerned, every one of them was still a stranger.

Sharing a carriage—especially with Sveinn—was deeply uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, I had no reasonable grounds to object.

If there's one silver lining...

At least Reisir and Sveinn won't end up in the same carriage while I'm stuck in the other one.

The protagonist of someone else's novel possessed extraordinary social skills.

He was the sort of person who would casually suggest becoming friends with someone who had bullied him.

Would someone like that really fail to befriend Sveinn simply because they were in different grades?

Besides, Author Senna would undoubtedly want those two to become friends...

Which meant that during the short carriage ride to the restaurant, there was a very real possibility Reisir and Sveinn would hit it off.

Just as I steeled myself to prevent that no matter what—

"Then let's meet again when we arrive."

Fjodora boarded the first carriage together with her familiar.

Helga, Vigdís, and Lissy climbed in after her.

"We should hurry too!"

Pret said no more than that before looking toward me.

As the newest student, he evidently didn't think it appropriate to board ahead of everyone else.

Naturally, his gaze settled on the person of highest status among those remaining.

I was planning to sit beside Reisir after he got in...

But even if I board first, he'll probably come over to my side anyway.

It shouldn't matter.

With that in mind, I helped Yor aboard first as usual, letting her claim the window seat before taking the seat beside her.

Just as expected, Reisir stepped toward the carriage after me.

Then—

Ríolíkin suddenly spoke.

"May... may I sit beside Lord Karvaldr...? Senior Reisir was invited to Lord Karvaldr's room earlier, and the two of you spent time together..."

"It's not fair for you to keep Lord Karvaldr all to yourself..."

Perhaps because Reisir had beaten him repeatedly while helping him prepare for the Martial Arts Tournament, Ríolíkin now seemed to regard Reisir as someone above him in the pecking order.

I hadn't anticipated anything like this.

Apparently, he was genuinely envious that Reisir had been invited into my room.

"Sure. You can go first."

The protagonist of someone else's novel surrendered the seat beside me without the slightest hesitation.

This was absurd.

It's the seat next to me.

Why are the two of you deciding among yourselves without even asking what I think?

The instant my irritation showed on my face—

Reisir walked around to the opposite side of the carriage and opened the rear door.

He carefully lifted Yor's upper body into my arms while leaving the rest of her stretched across his own lap.

In doing so, he effectively occupied the place beside me by sharing Yor's seat.

"What exactly are you doing...?"

"You looked upset that I gave the seat next to you to someone else."

"W-Who said I was upset over something so trivial?"

"I'm not?"

"In that case, should I move across and sit opposite you?"

I briefly looked away from Reisir.

Across from us stood Sveinn, frozen halfway through climbing aboard.

Pret was waiting behind him.

If Reisir moved to the opposite side, he would naturally end up sitting beside Sveinn.

I wasn't thrilled about them sitting together either...

But I probably couldn't stop it.

"...Never mind."

"You're already seated. There's no need to move now."

"Hahaha! All right, then I'll stay here."

...Surely he hadn't given away the seat beside me on purpose just to tease me?

Watching the broad grin on his face, an entirely unnecessary suspicion began taking root.

As I hugged Yor against my chest and glared sideways at Reisir—

"You two seniors seem awfully close."

—Pret had apparently boarded at some point, closed the carriage door, and joined the conversation.

He hadn't outright called us friends.

He'd merely remarked that we looked close.

There wasn't really any need to deny it.

More importantly...

If I wanted to stop Sveinn from trying to cozy up to the original protagonist, I couldn't contradict that impression.

So I remained silent.

Reisir's smile immediately widened.

Apparently he took my silence as agreement.

"That's right."

"We're extremely close."

"Ooh... Such confidence! I'm honestly jealous."

"It makes me wonder what could possibly have happened between the two of you for your relationship to become this close."

Pret wrapped his curiosity in exaggerated admiration.

If he truly was the mercenary hired during the Hailga kidnapping incident—

Or even if he wasn't—

He certainly knew Karvaldr had once bullied Reisir.

Someone as interested in other people as Pret would naturally wonder how things had changed so drastically.

Just as I accepted that much inwardly—

"...Why are you so interested in that?"

The smile vanished from Reisir's face.

He looked at Pret with complete seriousness.

Pret immediately wore an expression that practically said, Wait... this wasn't how this was supposed to go.

He had probably expected Reisir to enthusiastically recount how the two of us had become close.

...It looks like he's misunderstood Pret's intentions.

He thinks Pret wants to learn how to get close to me so he can make use of me.

Even so, there was no reason for me to step in and defend Pret.

Nor could I think of any justification for doing so.

Nominally, he was the heir to the Information Guild.

He could deal with this himself.

"Did I ask something inappropriate?"

"If so, I apologize."

"I've spent my whole life in a circus troupe, so I'm unfamiliar with noble society. I spoke out of ignorance."

See?

He came up with an excuse instantly.

"I was simply curious about how people become friends... and what makes relationships grow stronger."

But listening to him...

That didn't sound entirely fabricated.

"The circus was full of older brothers and sisters much older than I was."

"And I spent nearly all my time practicing my performances."

"I never really had the chance to spend time with anyone."

...It felt as though at least part of that reflected his genuine circumstances.

Of course, I didn't believe he was completely ignorant of how to approach people.

Anyone gathering information had to be personable.

But because every relationship he'd built had been temporary—formed under disguises solely to extract information...

He'd probably never had what could truly be called a friend.

The Information Guild certainly employed young operatives.

Even so, they would only be its lowest-ranking members.

Would they ever have had any opportunity to interact with the guild master's own son?

"For someone with that background, you're remarkably sociable."

"Well, when you're surrounded by adults all the time, the only thing that develops is your ability to socialize!"

"...Is that so?"

"It is."

Reisir still looked unconvinced.

He regarded Pret with lingering suspicion.

Nevertheless, he let the matter drop.

With people like me, Ríolíkin, and Vigdís sitting right here, questioning how someone could reach this age without close friends would only have made things awkward.

"..."

"..."

Conversation ground to a halt.

Reisir had no intention of explaining to complete strangers how he'd become close to me.

Pret, meanwhile, apparently decided that saying anything further would only invite more suspicion.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the carriage.

Unable to endure it any longer, someone else finally spoke.

The one to break the silence...

...was none other than Sveinn, the traitor from the original novel.

"Um... Senior Reisir, you use a spear too, don't you?"

"How long have you been training with it?"

Of all the possible moments...

He chose to strike up a conversation with the very person who had just frozen the atmosphere.

I couldn't help suspecting that Author Senna's will—determined to make Sveinn and Reisir become friends—was at work again.

"I first held a spear when I was eight."

"But I only started training seriously after I turned ten."

Perhaps because the attention was no longer focused on me, Reisir's expression and tone quickly returned to normal.

Seeing that, Sveinn visibly relaxed.

"Then you must be incredibly skilled."

"Well..."

"I suppose I'm reasonably good."

He answered modestly, but without denying it.

After all, his Spear Technique wasn't merely A-Rank.

It was S-Rank.

Pretending otherwise wouldn't have been humility.

It would have been insulting to everyone less skilled than he was.

He had simply acknowledged the obvious.

"I only started learning the spear a month ago."

"So I'm honestly worried about whether I'll be able to fight properly once we enter the Demon Realm."

"That's why I wanted to ask..."

"If you ever have free time after classes or on the weekends..."

"Would you be willing to watch my spear practice and give me some advice, Senior?"

Ever since Sveinn revealed that his main weapon was a spear, I'd suspected he would eventually make this request.

Still...

I hadn't expected him to ask for instruction before the two of them had even become friends.

As expected of the man who betrayed both his teacher and friend in the original version of the novel—

He truly had no shame.

"That much would be no proble—"

"What an absurd request."

Before the word problem could leave Reisir's mouth, I interrupted.

Reisir and Sveinn both stared at me in bewilderment.

Pret, meanwhile, looked positively delighted.

Yor let out a little meow and nodded in wholehearted agreement.

Ríolíkin merely blinked, looking as though he thought, That makes sense.

"Have you forgotten that Reisir also has to enter the Demon Realm and fight alongside us?"

"No."

"Not at all."

"That's exactly why I thought training together would be even more valuable..."

"And how would training with you benefit Reisir?"

"If your skill had already reached a respectable level, that would be one thing."

"But you've only been practicing for a month."

"At best, you're still drilling the fundamentals."

"In other words, Reisir would spend his own time teaching you while gaining nothing himself."

"The only one who profits from that arrangement is you."

Did it sound like I was mocking him?

Sveinn's expression slowly filled with confusion...

Then discomfort...

Then unmistakable humiliation.