#093. Speak Clearly So People Can Understand You
The princess Blanche, who had stirred up all sorts of rumors upon her arrival, ended up living surprisingly quietly and modestly. She made sure not to stand out.
When a professor asked her a question, she answered it. And she always gave the correct answer. But she never raised her hand to take the initiative.
She didn’t seem to have much of a sense of hierarchy either. When her classmates spoke to her, she responded properly and carried on conversations naturally, though she never started them herself.
You’d think she would at least ask about where the next class was, or check announcements, or even inquire where the dining hall was. But from her very first day, Blanche behaved as though she’d been living there for ten years already—she knew everything without asking.
“How are you adjusting to the Academy? Is it difficult?”
She was of high status, never asked for help, and her cold, striking beauty combined with her perfect academics and the fact she was the youngest in the Academy…
Altogether, she was not the easiest person to approach. Her peers of the same age and year avoided her rather than spoke to her. The few who did approach her were those she had connections with from outside the school.
“Thanks to your concern, I’m doing fine.”
And she truly meant it.
Though she never mingled with her classmates, appearing aloof and solitary to others, for someone who had lived her whole life alone, she felt she was already engaging with people more than enough.
“If you ever have trouble understanding something in class, let me know. I’ll help you.”
“Your words alone are already more than enough, thank you.”
But of course, Blanche never once had trouble with her studies, and so she never had reason to accept help from her seniors.
On the surface, she was just an ordinary first-year student. Not one who caused trouble, nor one who achieved feats so extraordinary that she drew eyes.
She was a model student, yes—but the Academy was full of students admitted purely on talent. Every year, there were a hundred or so who excelled in class and gave flawless answers.
She was undeniably beautiful, but no one was reckless enough to treat a semi-royal like a mere object of amusement, so no crowd of admirers gathered around her either.
And so, the mountain of rumors about her cooled down as quickly as they had flared up. The persistent stares gradually faded away.
Just as Blanche had wished.
Ah, I can finally breathe a little.
I let out a silent sigh and rolled my shoulders slightly.
It wasn’t as though I wasn’t used to being stared at, but after being under constant attention for the first time in ages, unnecessary tension had built up, and my back ached.
Most of Blanche’s life had been spent inside the imperial palace, and even then, mostly within Jasper Palace. She had rarely been subjected to so many curious eyes at once.
“Am I really the type to get this tense…?”
In my past life, even when tens of thousands of lives were on the line on the battlefield, I hardly ever felt nervous. I thought I was simply someone who didn’t get nervous.
But maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe it was just that I had never been in a situation where I had the luxury of being nervous.
To think that a few children’s stares—who couldn’t even do me real harm—were enough to make me tense my back like this.
After making sure no one was around, I twisted my torso to loosen my stiff muscles. Even when standing still, my posture was straight out of habit, but why was I straining my back unnecessarily? Ridiculous.
“Well, in any case, I suppose I’ve achieved my goal for my first year.”
First year here felt like the army’s version of basic training before soldiers were assigned to their units—a period for acclimatization before becoming true Academy students.
From the second year onward, it seemed classes could be chosen freely. First-years, however, had fixed schedules.
That was why I had decided: during my first year, I would blend in quietly, not stand out too much.
There was no reason to shine early on. And more than anything, as someone living a second life, it felt almost embarrassing to compete with those living their first.
Yes, the things we learned were all new to me too. But I couldn’t deny that, compared to actual mid-teens learning this for the first time, I picked things up faster simply because I had already lived through one life.
To then boast about it, to show off among children, would just be shameful.
So my plan was: in first year, become invisible, like air. In second year, gradually build ties with professors and peers who seemed likely to remain in the field after graduation. Then from third year, as a research student, forge proper connections. That was my Academy goal.
“…But if I’ve already achieved this year’s goal within ten days of admission, what am I supposed to do for the next three hundred and fifty?”
I could study, sure—but if I borrowed too many books from the library, that would only draw attention.
Perhaps it was because I indulged in such a luxury of a problem that very evening, my supposedly stable Academy life was shaken.
The few acquaintances I had from outside sometimes spoke to me. But they had already spent years here, building their own networks and routines.
And I wasn’t really some helpless child in need of constant care.
So when I happened to run into them at the dining hall, I joined their tables, yes—but I never made specific arrangements to eat with them.
The other students seemed oddly worried about me eating alone, but really, in both my previous and current lives, I had always dined alone by default. I was perfectly comfortable with it.
Anyway, that day, as I happened not to see anyone I knew in the cafeteria, I took my meal alone and sat at an empty table. Then, three students I had never seen before approached me.
“You’re that famous Blanche Roa Vandalouin, aren’t you?”
I had just lifted my first spoonful, so I calmly finished chewing and swallowing my potato salad before answering.
“Yes.”
Whether they’d already eaten or skipped their meal to come here, or abandoned their plates mid-bite when they spotted me, I didn’t know. Either way, the zeal was remarkable.
As I cut my bread into bite-sized pieces, the one who had spoken frowned and tried again.
“Hey, aren’t you a first-year?”
If you could call this “conversation.” My answer was the same, flat and simple.
“Yes.”
“We’re third-years, you know. Don’t you know how to show respect to your seniors?”
At that, I finally lifted my eyes and slowly looked the three of them over. Then I replied curtly:
“Why should I?”
If they had addressed me casually but with respect, that might have been different. But this was clearly an attempt to pick a fight. Why should I bother with honorifics for that?
And it’s not as if they’d stop picking a fight just because I did.
Throughout my entire previous life, there were very few cases where someone spoke down to me and I still had to show respect in return.
And three kids, only a few years older than Blanche, did not qualify as one of those rare cases.
“You little—!”
“Medret, calm down.”
The one in the middle exploded in anger, but the one on the left grabbed his arm to restrain him.
If they were going to hold him back, it would’ve been better to do so before coming over here. I thought idly and lowered my eyes back to my tray.
It really was an interesting setup, having hors d’oeuvres, the main dish, and dessert all served on the same plate. Efficient, too.
On the battlefield, rations had to be handed out all at once, which made menus simple. But with tableware like this, they could’ve offered variety and nutrition.
I wondered, do modern armies use things like this? Or is it still one-meal-one-dish?
Not that it mattered—I would never be on a battlefield again. But my thoughts kept wandering that way anyway.
I was about to sip my soup when the boy named Medret shoved his hand in front of my tray.
“You insolent little—”
Really, if they were going to pick a fight, why not outside? There’s a saying: even a dog should be left in peace when it eats.
What was this nonsense? I didn’t bother to hide my frown as I looked up again.
“Are you capable of conversing at all, when you haven’t even learned the most basic table manners? If you wish to speak with me, learn proper manners first. Then come back.”
I could feel the sudden hush that fell over the surrounding tables, but I didn’t flinch.
I’d raised my voice on purpose, after all, to make sure everyone heard.
It wasn’t that I wanted trouble. I wanted a quiet life—but a quiet life isn’t possible if you let yourself be seen as an easy target.
So I angled my body slightly and fixed my gaze squarely on the boy in the center.
Though he had been the one to approach first, he looked startled now.
“Wh-what? You’re the one who ignored us—”
I deliberately cut him off mid-sentence.
“You didn’t introduce yourself. You didn’t state your purpose. You barged in while I was obviously eating, and without even a greeting, you immediately addressed me rudely. In such circumstances, what sort of response do you expect is appropriate?”
What did they want—me to throw down my spoon, leap up, and introduce myself, all while bowing politely?
Unable to answer my reasonable question, the boy just muttered something under his breath. I couldn’t even hear it clearly.
“Speak clearly, so people can understand you.”
