Under a starlit sky, Merida sat on a bench, nodding off under the lamplight. Simon approached her.

"Merida, wake up."

No response.

"Merida, it’s time for the dispatch." He tried shaking her, but she remained asleep.

Simon sighed and sat down beside her. The event hadn’t started yet, so they had some time. He decided he would wait a nerve-wracking twenty minutes, and if she still wasn’t awake, he’d just have to carry her in like a sack of potatoes. He was about to pull out a textbook to study when...

A soft weight thumped against his shoulder.

’Haa... haa...’

Merida had leaned her head against him, shallow breaths escaping her pale pink lips.

Simon rubbed his forehead, a weary expression on his face. He wasn’t falling for this again. He’d gone through hell and back last time trying to deal with her when she’d decided to spread a blanket on the floor.

"Exactly twenty minutes," he declared, then settled in to wait.

He tried to ignore her, but the street was too crowded. He could hear people giggling, whispering things like "how cute" and "what a couple."

’...Ugh.’

He couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. More importantly, her face was becoming a mess. The makeup she must have spent hours on for the banquet was starting to smudge, and he couldn’t let her drool on his new tuxedo any longer.

’If she’s going to sleep, I might as well make her comfortable.’

Remaining seated, Simon gently placed his hands on her shoulders. The dress exposed the fair, smooth line of her collarbones. The unintentional contact with her bare skin made his face feel hot. Trying his best not to show it, he slowly shifted her. Her head, which had been resting on his arm, dipped down. Just as he moved to lay her properly on the bench...

Her hands shot out and grabbed his trousers.

"Um?"

Her head settled onto his lap as if drawn by a magnet. Simon froze.

"M-Merida?"

Before he could recover from his surprise, she had already claimed his lap as her pillow. This time, she wasn’t even breathing softly. She was just completely out, mouth slightly agape, dead to the world.

"Hey, wait a minute!"

Simon hastily tried to pull away, but Merida clung to his trousers with both hands, refusing to relinquish her prime sleeping spot.

’Mmmph...’

She even let out a little sleep-mumble in protest. Simon sighed again and sat back down. At this rate, he’d be exhausted before the festival even began. He stared down at the oblivious girl for a moment, then quietly shrugged off his tuxedo jacket. The movement caused her skirt to ride up, exposing the pale line of her thighs.

’...How can someone be so completely defenseless?’

He grumbled to himself but gently draped the jacket over her. She must have thought it was a blanket, because she smiled blissfully, clutched the fabric, and snuggled deeper into sleep.

The twenty minutes he’d allotted ticked by.

"Merida, wake up." He couldn’t afford to be lenient anymore. He shook her, but she only groaned, showing no signs of waking.

Simon stroked his chin, an idea sparking in his mind. He voiced it.

"Senior Phantasus! What are you doing here?"

"Huh?!!"

At the name, Merida shot up like a fish leaping from water. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were half-lidded with sleep, and a bit of drool glistened at the corner of her mouth.

She looked around frantically before her gaze landed on Simon.

Noticing the smirk on his face, her brow furrowed in a pout.

"Liar."

"Not something I want to hear from a chronic sleepyhead," he shot back.

After the childish exchange, they both looked away. Feeling pleased at having finally gotten one over on her, Simon stood.

"Alright, you’re awake. Let’s get inside the Tower of—’Ugh’!"

A sudden wave of drowsiness hit him, and he staggered. Realizing he’d been hit with ’Sleep,’ he spun around.

"Merida!"

"You tricked me," she said, her face still sulky.

"I had no choice! You wouldn’t wake up!"

"I don’t like lies like that." Her eyebrows drew together. "Don’t do it again."

He had plenty he wanted to say, but she was his partner for this entire mission. Starting a fight over something so trivial wasn’t a good idea.

"Alright, I promise."

Only then did Merida snap her fingers with a sharp flick. The drowsiness vanished instantly. She stood, smoothed out her dress, and adjusted her appearance.

"Let’s go."

"Yeah."

They carefully made their way to the main entrance of the Tower of Time. The butler who was admitting guests saw them and chuckled.

"Haha! You’ve arrived. I saw you two sitting so cozily on the bench and was wondering when you’d come in."

Apparently, he’d witnessed the whole embarrassing display. Simon averted his gaze, mortified, while Merida just stood there, looking confused. He quickly presented the documents from the main office.

"Kizen’s Student Council President, Simon Polentia, and student Merida Hugh Ikel, here for a dispatch mission. Confirmed. Please enter," the butler said with a polite bow.

As Simon nodded and started to walk, he realized Merida wasn’t following.

She was standing there with her hand outstretched, palm down.

"What now?"

"You’re the man. I’m the woman." She pointed to her chest, then tilted her head. "Aren’t you going to escort me?"

...Right. They were here on a mission, but it was still a grand festival hosted by the Ivory Tower, and a partner was a partner. The moment they stepped through these doors, the nobles’ war of etiquette would begin.

Just as Simon composed himself like a gentleman and reached for her hand...

He staggered as a wave of drowsiness washed over him. He’d been hit with ’Sleep’ again. He barely caught his balance as Merida giggled.

"You fell for it again. Idiot."

"You really are..."

Simon was about to retort, but Merida took the initiative, linking her arm with his.

"There. I’m not mad anymore."

"Huh..."

"Let’s go." She snapped her fingers, dispelling the curse. ’So she was still holding a grudge about me using Phantasus’s name.’ Whether she was the type to hold a grudge or he had genuinely crossed a line, he decided he’d better be more careful from now on.

He escorted her into the banquet hall.

’Whoa.’

An exclamation escaped him. While noble banquets varied according to the host’s taste, those of the highest echelons had one thing in common: they were ostentatiously, blindingly luxurious.

"Ah."

Merida’s eyes sparkled. Following her gaze, he saw a perfectly cooked steak on a platter. Simon’s own mouth began to water.

"You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Let’s get some food—"

"It looks comfy!"

’Huh?’ With her free arm, she pointed forward. She wasn’t pointing at the food. She was pointing at a nearby sofa. She dragged Simon over, plopped down, and began prodding the cushions.

"Density: eight. Softness: five. Comfort: seven."

"...What are you talking about?"

She then moved to the next sofa and began rattling off more of her bizarre ratings.

"The finish is linen, which is a bit disappointing. The spinal support seems good, but the breathability is poor."

"Merida, when are we going to eat—"

"That chair looks comfy, too!"

Merida dragged him all over the hall, searching for prime sleeping spots like sofas and armchairs. She sat on them, even pressed her face against them.

"Here, too!"

If a spot was warm, not even stairs or tabletops were off-limits. Like a picky bear searching for the perfect place to hibernate, she darted from one end of the hall to the other.

"Here!"

She suddenly inserted herself into a group of people at a table. They all looked startled as this seemingly normal girl pushed her way in and pressed her cheek against their sofa.

"I am so sorry!" Simon exclaimed, rushing to clean up her mess.

In the end...

"Mmm."

He managed to get her settled on a decent sofa before she could cause any more trouble. She tried to get up, wanting to explore more, but the moment her face touched a cushion, her resistance crumbled. She was asleep in seconds.

"Phew."

Simon finally let out a sigh of relief and straightened his bow tie, taking a moment to survey the room.

’Almost all of them are necromancers.’ He could feel the thrum of Jet-Black from every corner. Most of the faces were unfamiliar, but there was one he recognized. And that person was heading his way.

"Well, look who it is. It’s been a while!"

A middle-aged nobleman with an impeccably tailored suit, short, light-blue hair, and glasses approached. Simon shot to his feet. It was Daniela Villenne, a key figure in the Ivory Tower’s moderate faction. Meirin’s father.

"Oh, it’s been a long time, Sir Daniela!" Simon greeted him, sweating. He’d come here expecting a straightforward mission, not a run-in with his friend’s father in the Tower of Time.

"Haha, please, relax, Student Council President," he said with a gentle smile. "You’re a dear friend of my daughter’s. Calling me ’Sir Daniela’ is a bit too formal, don’t you think? How about ’Uncle Daniela’?"

"H-How could I possibly...!"

"Hahahaha!" he boomed, then sat down across from Simon.

Simon quickly tried to rouse Merida.

"Merida, wake up!"

"Just let her sleep." Daniela held up a hand. "The young lady seems quite tired."

"Ah, yes."

Simon sat stiffly, his fists resting on his knees, his mind racing. What was he supposed to talk about with Meirin’s father? Thankfully, Daniela broke the silence.

"Is your uncle doing well?"

"Yes, of course!" Richard and Daniela had met at the promotion ceremony at the end of his first year. Richard had hidden his identity, introducing himself as Simon’s uncle. After a brief exchange, they clinked their wine glasses.

"My daughter talks about you a great deal, Student Council President."

"Does she?"

Daniela smiled warmly.

"If we were to tally up her conversation topics, you’d account for more than half. Every time she opens her mouth, it’s ’Simon, Simon’."

"...Ahaha."

"And of the remainder, half is Kamibarez, and the other half is a boy named Pion."

In effect, Simon made up 75 percent of her conversations. Laughing awkwardly, Simon asked, "What about Dick?"

"His name does come up when my daughter is cursing. Something along the lines of ’worse than that Dick’."

"...Ha, haha."

He decided to keep that information to himself.

"More importantly, I wanted to be sure to thank you if I ever had the chance," Daniela continued.

"Me?"

"Yes, for making my daughter the vice president." He smiled brightly. "I was flooded with letters for a while. ’Dad! I’m vice president! Dad! Can you believe it?’ It was quite the commotion. In fact, thanks to having a daughter who’s the vice president at Kizen, I’ve been able to hold my head a little higher here at the Ivory Tower. Hahaha!"

Daniela was telling a story that would have made Meirin die of embarrassment. Simon bowed his head.

"You’re too kind. In truth, Meirin has been a great help to me."

"...ooh." Daniela stroked his chin, impressed. "So well-mannered. I wish our Meirin had some of this maturity. She’s just a tomboyish troublemaker."

"Th-That’s not true! Meirin has so many admirable qualities! She’s hardworking, talented, and honest."

"Her face is honest, you mean. She huffs and puffs and says things she doesn’t mean, but her blushing gives her away every time. Still, she has a soft heart, so please take good care of her, Student Council President."

The conversation with Daniela was surprisingly pleasant. This was a man who had everything—wealth, honor, power—yet he spoke to Simon as an equal and created a comfortable atmosphere. The conversation flowed naturally. The more they talked, the more Simon felt at ease, convinced that Daniela was a genuinely good person.

"Ah, right."

And then, Simon sensed he was finally getting to the point.

"I’d like to talk about the Tower of Time."

A fresh wave of tension washed over Simon as he was reminded of his true purpose here. He was a spy.