Chapter 33: ༺This is What I Missed [1]༻
[Velorian Imperial Academy’s Grand Hall]
The great hall was filled with chatter.
Rows of posters covered massive boards at the front, right and left walls, each sheet bearing the name of a club.
"Embroidery Club? Pass. Too girly."
"What are you saying? Tailoring Club is prestigious. Didn’t you know the Crown Prince himself once—"
"Whatever. I’m going to the Mage Research Society. They say third-years are experimenting with runic cores."
"No way, that’s all theory. Combat Club’s where the real prestige is."
Different cliques argued, laughed, and compared notes, their dark blue uniforms distinguished only by the color of their ties. White for third years, black for second, light blue for first.
Amid the crowd, a red-haired girl held her books tightly to her chest, her pale fingers pressed against the edges of the pages. A few loose sheets peeked out between the covers.
Her eyes soft but restless swept across the board, tracing each poster one by one.
"...Drama Club?"
A group of girls whispered near her.
"They say last year’s play was good enough to make the professors cry."
"I heard the Sword Dance Club is recruiting too. And their leader is—"
The girls broke into giggles, hiding their mouths behind delicate hands.
The red-haired girl smiled faintly at their energy, adjusting her light blue tie. Her steps were small, careful. She weaved between clusters of students, listening to scraps of conversation, storing them quietly away.
And then—
Bump!
Her books slipped from her arms, scattering across the polished floor. The papers fluttered like startled birds.
She blinked up.
Standing before her was a group of second-years. Black ties. Five of them in total. At their center, the one she had collided with was a boy with sharp blue eyes and red hair looked down at her.
"You...watch where you’re walking."
His voice carried authority, clipped and noble.
"Do you not understand where you are? This is Velorian Imperial Academy, not some back-alley street.
First-years ought to keep their heads low."
The girl quickly gathered her books, bowing her head. Her lips curved into a small, polite smile.
She didn’t answer. She only clutched her belongings tightly and hurried away, her hair swaying behind her.
The red-haired boy frowned at her retreating back.
"What was that? She didn’t even apologize properly—"
A hand landed on his shoulder. One of his friends chuckled.
"...You do know she’s deaf, right?"
"What?" The boy froze.
"She wouldn’t have heard a word of what you said."
The group exchanged looks.
Another added, "Yeah. She just joined this year. One of the special-needs students."
The red-haired boy turned his gaze downward.
On the floor, among the papers she had left behind, he spotted something she had dropped.
A small device, light pink in color, curved delicately to fit the ear. Its design was subtle, almost invisible at a glance...but up close, impossible to miss.
His lips pressed into a thin line. "...So that’s why she smiled the whole time."
"Yeah...it’s really not her fault...
You on the other hand treated ths situation like it was a world-ending event...
HAHAHA!"
"Oh shut up..."
***
The long oak table stretched beneath the high-vaulted ceiling. Voices overlapped in soft arguments, the hum of serious discourse filling the council chamber.
I entered midway through the meeting.
The doors opened with a slow creak, light spilling from behind me, cutting across the carpet.
My hair, pushed back, gleamed faintly under the lanterns, a few strands falling stubbornly over my face.
I wore tailored grey pants with thin vertical stripes running down them, matched by a blazer of the same cut...a pinstripe suit, I think it’s called.
A cloth tie draped neatly against my white shirt, muted in tone to match the grey.
Black gloves hid my hands, while frameless glasses rested lightly across the bridge of my nose.
The silver cane clicked once against the stone floor as I took my step.
The room fell into silence. Every instructor turned.
"Senior Instructor Noel Saint Grenn has arrived..."
The chancellor announced, her voice calm yet carrying.
The woman presiding at the head of the table lifted her chin. Light green hair fell to her shoulders in waves, and her eyes of the same pale shade.
Chancellor Lysandra was not a woman easily overlooked.
"Saint Grenn," she greeted me.
"Your seat."
Her tone was level, but there was a current beneath it.
I inclined my head slightly before walking forward, cane tapping against the floor with measured steps.
"Although you are a senior instructor..."
She continued as I reached my chair.
"...you must understand that any leave of absence should be filed properly and in advance. Your letter of absence only arrived yesterday evening.
And yet... here you are today."
I lowered my gaze briefly.
’Claire...’
The name slipped unbidden into my mind, and I exhaled a quiet sigh no one but myself heard.
"Understood," I said.
She motioned.
"You may be seated."
I took my chair. My eyes drifted across the room, sweeping over the familiar faces of the academy’s instructors. Finally, they landed on one particular figure.
Melissa.
Her hair, as white as snow, was tied into two long ponytails now, framing her sharp features. Crimson eyes caught mine for the briefest second before she turned back toward the chancellor, expression unreadable.
’That’s the style she’s going for now?’ I thought.
I leaned back in my chair as the meeting continued.
---
"...And concerning the Empire’s southern border," one instructor was saying, his voice low but insistent, "the Duke of Halvorth has reported suspicious mercenary movements. It may be connected to the Owl Workshop. Their airships are not simply for commerce...our scouts have observed troop deployments by blimp."
"Unacceptable," muttered another.
"If the Northern is experimenting with steam technology to mobilize troops faster than we can respond, our students should at least be educated on countermeasures."
Lysandra lifted a parchment. The seal was broken, but the gold-inked script glistened under the light.
"A letter from His Holiness, the Holy Emperor, has arrived...’
She announced, drawing the attention of everyone.
"It states that Velorian Imperial Academy must continue producing instructors versed in both martial doctrine and ecclesiastical discipline. He stresses unity between the Holy Church and this academy, lest we allow heresy to take root among students."
Murmurs spread.
"More interference from the Church," Professor Halder muttered under his breath.
"The Holy Emperor has reason," Lysandra said firmly.
The meeting shifted into another round of tense debate, voices rising and falling.
They discussed whether to adjust the academy’s curriculum to reflect the Emperor’s concerns, whether to increase the number of theology lectures, and how this would impact the already packed schedules of first-years.
The next matter turned to finances.
"Tuition subsidies must be reconsidered," argued Professor Yule.
"If the Empire diverts more resources into military invention, then the academy should demand an increased stipend for experimental research. Our alchemy labs still use glassware from two decades ago. Students can barely pass their refinement classes with those."
"Funding is not infinite," countered Professor Serene.
"And you want to pour it into unstable alchemy projects? Shall we tell the Emperor that his coin went to another batch of failed experiments?"
"It isn’t a failure if it teaches students resilience."
"Resilience doesn’t pay for exploded glass."
The room chuckled lightly at that, though the tension lingered.
Eventually, Lysandra raised her hand, silencing the overlapping voices.
"Now," she said, "we move on to the matter of student clubs."
The mood lightened somewhat.
"As you all know, clubs are not mere distractions. They are extensions of the academy’s spirit where students explore practical applications, bond outside of class, and sometimes even discover their life’s calling. For instructors, a club offers more than prestige.
It provides..."
She raised her fingers and began to list them.
"...first, an additional stipend from the academy treasury.
Second, greater influence in student council appointments, as club members often rise to leadership positions.
Third, access to specialized facilities, such as laboratories, rooms or training grounds, which only a club patron may request for expansion.
And lastly, the eyes of the Empire itself often fall on successful clubs. Their patrons are remembered."
The instructors nodded along.
Lysandra’s gaze sharpened.
"Most of you here have already chosen or established clubs.
However..."
Her words lingered in the air, before she continued.
"...there remain three instructors who have yet to do so.
Among them, Senior Instructor Noel Saint Grenn."
The air seemed to grow heavier. A few gazes flicked toward me, some neutral, some curious.
Professor Brael leaned back in his chair, adjusting his glasses with a thin smirk.
"Well, Saint Grenn, you needn’t worry about the Magic Engineering Club.
That one is already under my patronage."
His voice carried a note of mockery.
"Perhaps if you hadn’t vanished from the academy for two days, you could have signed early.
But alas... the world doesn’t wait."
A couple of quiet chuckles followed.
I said nothing.
My eyes flicked once to Lysandra, then back to the table.
"I will ensure the matter is settled by the end of this meeting," I said simply.
Lysandra gave a curt nod.
"Very well. See that you do."
The meeting carried on with lighter matters—schedule rotations, disciplinary updates, and minor event preparations...but my thoughts had already slipped elsewhere.
’A club, huh...’
I rested my chin lightly against my gloved hand.
Back on Earth, I had never joined any club at school. Not soccer, not debate, not even chess.
I used to avoid them, thinking they were nothing but time-wasters.
Now, here, I had no choice but to make one.
Benefits to students. Benefits to instructors. Influence. Resources.
The weight of expectation pressed down on me.
If I chose wrong, it could define my standing for years at Velorian Imperial Academy.
’What hobbies did I even have?’
A quiet sigh escaped me. Clubs here weren’t so simple.
But then, as I turned the idea over in my mind, a realization sparked.
"Ahh..."
I muttered softly to myself, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at my lips.
"I’ve got it."
The chancellor’s voice broke through again, wrapping up the final notes of the meeting.
"This concludes today’s council. Dismissed."
Chairs scraped.
And as the instructors filed out, I remained seated for a moment longer, the idea of my club still solidifying in my mind.