The Clock Tower's Underachiever

Britain, Clock Tower.

"Hey... I was thinking... aren't you two going a little too far?"

It was noon, and rare clear weather had come to Great Britain. The azure sky was refreshing to behold, while the faint, distinctive scent of grass and trees drifted through the air. That freshness was truly rare. In London, where technology advanced with each passing day, the air always carried a heavy smell of gasoline. It would have been a waste not to properly enjoy such comforting freshness.

Yet in this refreshing noon hour, a few sentences of clumsy English suddenly intruded. The awkward grammar and underlying unease made words that were already difficult to understand even harder to decipher.

The two blond students who had been called out—each had golden hair groomed so neatly it resembled a crown, and their bearing matched that dazzling color: proud, haughty, and dismissive of everyone around them.

At the very least, they did not regard the speaker as worthy of notice.

This was the lawn near the Clock Tower library. It was break time, and the students wandered about in twos and threes, either looking for something to eat or continuing their studies, busy yet leisurely.

The speaker had also been enjoying his peaceful lunch break. He had spread out a blue napkin to claim a little space for himself, lay down with a fried chicken sandwich in his mouth, and flipped through a manga with one hand beneath the dappled shade of the trees.

Yes, manga.

In a place steeped in mysticism, practically the headquarters of the Magi—the Clock Tower—the only man in the entire Mage World bold enough to openly read manga was probably him.

And the reason he had been dragged out of his leisure and forced to speak clumsy English... was the actions of these two students.

They had to have done it on purpose.

They had casually stepped onto the blue napkin, then, with utter disdain, planted a hard and incredibly precise foot on several uneaten sandwiches beside the man and deliberately ground their heels into them twice.

The young man, who had initially intended to endure it under the belief that less trouble was better, immediately frowned in displeasure.

"Oh? Lately, I've been wondering whether there's something wrong with my ears. John, was someone calling me?"

Student A had clearly heard the man's complaint. His lips curled high in scorn, as though he were about to turn his nostrils toward the sky. Fortunately, it had not rained today, or his respiratory tract would have been in danger.

London was known as the City of Fog. As industrialization worsened, all sorts of industrial exhaust had poured into the atmosphere. If it really fell with the rain into his nostrils...

Tsk, tsk, tsk!

At that thought, the black-haired man who was so obviously being bullied could not help laughing. He braced his powerful right hand against the napkin, and his lean but sturdy body sprang up like a leopard.

He was Tsukahara Meiji.

His name alone made it obvious that he was Japanese.

His clumsy English carried a heavy Tokyo accent. His pronunciation was strange, and his speech stiff; he was clearly someone who was not good at English forcing himself to speak it.

Like the impression every Japanese person gave foreigners, Tsukahara Meiji had wheat-colored skin and jet-black hair, while his black eyes shone brightly.

However, completely contrary to the traditional impression people had of Japanese men, Tsukahara Meiji was tall. His shoulders were broad, and though he did not have particularly bulky muscles, he gave off an unmistakable sense of strength.

At that moment, he rubbed his hair with the hand holding his manga, the paper scraping against his hair with a harsh rustling sound.

"Oh? Isn't this Tsukahara? Oh dear, so you were here. Sorry, sorry. You were so inconspicuous that I didn't even notice you."

The mockery was unbearably arrogant.

Tsukahara Meiji came from Japan and had only recently become a Magus. In terms of bloodline, he was merely a third-generation Magus.

In this world that valued pedigree and origins, the only people willing to make an exception and accept Tsukahara Meiji as a student were probably Abner and Lord El-Melloi II. However, the latter was already half-retired, so Tsukahara Meiji's teacher was naturally Abner.

And precisely because of that, by following Abner, who had been drawn into the factional cold war, Tsukahara Meiji had naturally become a target for the ridicule of the many glamorous Magi. His magical attainments were limited to begin with, and his teacher's reputation was poor as well, so everyone naturally treated him as a punching bag. They could hardly target the head of the Winifred Family, could they? So they could only bully him.

Normally, Tsukahara Meiji would probably have dismissed it with a disdainful laugh... but today, he had a reason he could not back down.

His black eyes glanced at the sandwiches crushed beneath the distinguished students' feet, and the anger in his heart surged higher. He barely suppressed the veins throbbing on his forehead and forcibly draped his fury in a veneer of respect. If those had been his own lunch, he could have let it go. Being bullied by them was an everyday occurrence—being bullied was part of being a novice Magus. If you could not stand it, then do not become a Magus.

But... when he thought of how he would face Carl's hunger when she returned...

"Hey, seniors, treating everyone stronger than yourselves as though they don't exist isn't a good habit."

There was still a trace of politeness in his tone, but beneath the honorifics lay cold, surging anger and a direct provocation toward the elite students' arrogance.

But why would the "elites" of the Clock Tower care about something like that?

"Hey, Far Easterner, you've really got some nerve. Tsk, tsk."

Student A was about to say more when Student B hurriedly tugged his arm.

Naturally, the gesture did not mean that he was trying to stop Student A from speaking recklessly.

"Hey, I'm telling you, stop talking to him. I heard people from the Far East are all... small! Be careful, or you might catch it! If Emma stops paying attention to you afterward, don't say I didn't warn you!"

Though they had obscured the most crucial word, Tsukahara Meiji still understood exactly what they meant from the context.

"I think someone among us needs to apologize."

Tsukahara Meiji pointed at the sandwiches they had stomped into an indistinct

mess. He forced down his anger, his brows already twisted into a tight knot.

"Oh? Since you're so self-aware, we'll be magnanimous and let you off. Strip naked, run around the tree three times, and bark like a dog, and we'll forgive you. That faggot who was always hanging around you isn't with you today? What, did he find another man?"

That last sentence ignited the final thread of Tsukahara Meiji's reason.

He smiled.

Tsukahara Meiji was a very strange person.

His most distinctive trait was that whenever he got angry, furious, or filled with extreme hatred, he smiled. For him, the smile that appeared after his brows had been tightly furrowed was the prelude to a storm-like assault.

"You people can bully me however you want on ordinary days. But... if you speak badly of Carl in front of me..."

"So what?"

Student B raised an eyebrow, filthy shadows lurking beneath his magnificent blond hair.

"Nothing. I just wanted to remind you, senior—you'd better change your clothes."

At some point, Tsukahara Meiji had acquired a playing card in his hand. The old King printed on it wore a standard poker face beside the hand gripping his sword.

"Huh?"

Student A gave a puzzled laugh, unable to understand what Tsukahara Meiji meant.

"I just gave you a free reading, senior..."

As he spoke, he casually bent the playing card and flicked it away. The card spun through the air in a beautiful arc, then vanished from the sight of all three of them.

"As for the result... hey, senior, your sweater is this year's new model. The design is very avant-garde, especially the widened collar at the back, which makes the wearer look more upright. For you to care so much about it, you must be going on a date with someone, right?"

Tsukahara Meiji wore an oddly composed smile as he analyzed it word by word.

"Huh? So what?"

"So, I suggest that you change clothes. Wearing burnt clothing isn't proper for a gentleman, is it? By the way, senior, your money was well spent. Wool is protein, so when it burns, it gives off a pungent stench... haven't you smelled it yet?"

Hearing Tsukahara Meiji's words, the two students sniffed. They seemed to catch a strange odor drifting through the air... and they could even feel heat coming from the backs of their necks. Could it be the heat from burning...

"Ahhh! M-my clothes!!"

Student A suddenly screamed dramatically. At some point, his back had already caught fire. Scarlet flames consumed the sweater on his back, growing ever stronger and even licking at the blond hair he was so proud of!

"Oh, senior wants to put out the fire? Then I'll help."

Tsukahara Meiji chuckled, spreading both hands beside his shoulders. He lifted his index fingers, and with a swish, two more playing cards appeared from nowhere. He pressed them hard between his thumbs and index fingers, bending the cards in an instant. For a fleeting moment, two pale cyan lines lit up across the backs of his hands. With a soft pop, the pale cyan color seeped into the cards. The paper instantly transformed, softened, and liquefied. Feeling the cool sensation in his hands, Tsukahara Meiji locked his furious gaze on the panicked student, and a massive stream of water shot from between his hands!

The water, which had no real offensive power, extinguished the flames in an instant!

Of course, it also made a complete mess of Student A's sweater. It was not only soaked; the scorched black discoloration and the stench that spread across his body with the water left him in an even worse mood.

"You! Tsukahara Meiji! Was this your doing?!"

Student A roared furiously. He did not know how Tsukahara Meiji had done it—there had been no trace of fire magecraft being activated, and he could not understand what exactly had ignited his sweater—but judging by his attitude, it had to be him! No doubt about it!

"Hehe, seniors, you're the elite students of the Clock Tower—could a mere third-generation Magus like me really pull tricks right under the elites' noses? Oh, then I'm truly sorry, sorry. Let's just say I did it. How about this? We'll call it even for stomping on Carl's lunch."

Tsukahara Meiji looked polite enough, bowing respectfully. But under the circumstances, that respect only provoked the other side's fury. It felt as though he were treating them like idiots.

That was Tsukahara Meiji's goal.

The two students had suffered such a huge loss for no reason, so naturally they were furious. One drew out a wand, while the other pulled a dagger from his waist.

Needless to say, these were their Mystic Codes. In RPG terms, they were weapons that increased one's attributes when equipped.

Tsukahara Meiji showed no fear. His hands moved in rapid succession, and with several swishes, seven or eight playing cards flipped out between his fingers. In terms of magical attainment, Tsukahara Meiji was far inferior to the two of them. But as a human being, pride flowed through his spine and forced him to stand tall, facing them head-on.

The scent of battle had already grown strong enough to overpower the smell of burnt wool.

"Are you two that bored? If you truly want a private duel, remember to get the Clock Tower's permission."

At that moment, a voice with an even stronger presence than the scent of battle rang out.

It was a female student. She had a box tucked beneath her arm and was walking over with a deep frown.

Carl Wynster.

The "Carl" mentioned in their conversation just now.

The two students looking for trouble exchanged glances, knowing this newcomer meant business. Carl was different from Tsukahara Meiji. Whether by background or academic achievement, she was a true Magus through and through. Other than often hanging around with Tsukahara Meiji, there was nothing about her to mock.

If they really made a big issue out of this with her, the Clock Tower would certainly hold them accountable. Bullying Tsukahara Meiji was one thing, but if they provoked Carl, the higher-ups would not stand idly by.

It was not worth getting chewed out by the Clock Tower's upper ranks over Tsukahara Meiji. The two quickly threw out a threat and slunk away in disgrace.