The Dispatch Evaluation was an off-campus curriculum where Kizen students formed teams to undertake real-world missions alongside professional necromancers. Just before midterms, Aaron announced that a dispatch for the entire second year was scheduled.
"The duration is five days. You can think of it as being similar to the third-years’ dispatch evaluation," Aaron explained, unfolding a document with his hollow, tired eyes. "I understand this dispatch was meticulously prepared by Kizen headquarters. They conducted a detailed analysis of every second-year’s grades and designed customized missions to maximize each student’s potential. Of course, you will have no choice in the matter. Both your team and your destination have been assigned by Kizen HQ."
Simon nodded as he listened from his seat. His first-year dispatch had been with the members of Team 7 in the neutral zone. It had been a dynamic experience, to say the least; it was where he had met both Sasha and Seiwir.
"For the first-year dispatch, we kindly provided you with mentors. However, for this second-year evaluation, you must complete the mission based solely on your own judgment. The objective is complete success. In other words," Aaron lowered the document, his calm gaze sweeping over the students, "you cannot return to Kizen until your mission is successful."
A wave of murmurs swept through the room. A male student shot his hand into the air.
"Coiter Pizn! Um, didn’t you just say the duration was five days?"
"That is merely the period the school will be empty. Classes will resume as scheduled after that. Please," Aaron said, a grim twist to his lips, "do try to return before the midterms."
Groans of despair filled the room.
Chaos erupted. Students clutched their heads, bit their uniform shirts, and groaned in despair.
"This is insane! They’re not even giving us time to study?"
"I guess the message is, if you’re good enough, you’ll finish the dispatch quickly and make your own study time."
"Kizen is so damn harsh."
As the room grew louder, Aaron spoke again. "For our Summoning department, returning on time is especially critical." He unfolded a new timetable. "As previously announced, the second-year Summoning faculty will be holding a special lecture on the ’Dullahan’ before midterms."
With the Dullahan lecture now held hostage, the students’ protests grew even louder.
"The special lecture will be an intensive, week-long course aimed at completing the Dullahan. If you miss a single class, you can consider your chance to create the headless knight gone forever."
Panic swept through the room, with Toto and several others looking particularly distressed.
"...I swear, if I miss that lecture, I’d rather just drop out."
"Please, Professor, why are you doing this to us?"
Even the eternally optimistic Eshe was complaining. Lorraine bit her lip, and Toto’s leg began to tremble under the pressure. But Aaron remained unmoved.
"This is not the time for whining. Pull yourselves together and act. Your dispatch locations will be delivered by document from Kizen HQ, so check your dorm mail. That is all."
The sudden announcement of a full-scale dispatch threw the entire second year into an uproar. Even if they managed to complete the five-day mission on time, they would have little more than a week before midterms began. In the student council room, the members had abandoned their duties to discuss the news.
"Does this make any sense? What kind of schedule completely ignores the exam period?" Meirin, who was more obsessed with exams than anyone, fumed. As the student ranked second overall in written exams, she had been determined to finally surpass Aseraz Mikel for the top spot, but now her plans were in shambles.
"There’s that, but the fact that we can’t return to Roc Island until the mission is done is terrifying," Kamibarez added, her cute bat wings drooping with anxiety.
"The professors write the exams during this period, too. Missing these classes is a huge disadvantage," Dick said grimly, slumping in his chair. As someone who relied on his information network to predict exam questions, he was particularly sensitive about losing that crucial time. "If things go badly, we might not even make it back for midterms. Kizen is never flexible about these things."
"I also have the Dullahan lecture to worry about. It starts the moment we get back," Simon added.
The girls’ faces fell in sympathy, but Dick’s eyes lit up. "A Dullahan? For real? They’re making one this semester? Wow, the Summoning department is amazing! Let me touch it when you’re done!"
"Hey," Meirin snapped, and Dick immediately shut his mouth. She looked at the other three. "So, has everyone’s dispatch location been decided?"
"Mine has!" Kamibarez raised her hand. "I’m supposed to meet an agent on standby in Enes, the City of Perfumes!"
"Ah, I know it. The origin and largest exporter of perfume," Dick chimed in. "You’ll have to distinguish scents. I see why they sent you, Kami."
Meirin smoothly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I’m going to the Snowfield Castle."
"Oh, that place! The hometown of Special Admission No. 8, Raheim Northfold, the Lord of the Snowfield Castle!" Dick explained again.
Simon smiled. "Raheim? You mean that guy who was always following you around, Meirin?"
Ugh! Don’t even bring up his name! I can’t stand him! Meirin shuddered with disgust.
Simon laughed and turned to Dick. "What about you?"
"I have no idea why I’m going to my location. I assumed it would be a major city or a market embroiled in a trade war." Dick held up a letter. "The Yahara Desert. There’s nothing there but sand."
"That makes sense," Meirin said with a smirk. "You’re a commoner who’s always bending the rules and looking for shortcuts. They probably want you to suffer in an extreme environment to get your head on straight."
"...Is that really why?" Kamibarez’s eyes widened. "Dick! Who are you going with?"
"...Uh, let’s see. Raheim Northfold, Fitzgerald, and Elisa Celine."
"Ahaha! It’s 100% true! Completely!"
The council members’ laughter died down, and all eyes turned to Simon. "What about you?"
"Mine hasn’t arrived yet."
Meirin grinned playfully. "What, is the Student Council President getting special treatment again?"
"I heard that students in the Top 10 or those with high profiles often get special invitations for dispatches," Dick mused. "It’s probably that."
"We can look forward to good news, then, Simon!" Kamibarez said cheerfully.
Simon scratched the side of his head. "W-Well, I wonder."
Only two days remained until the dispatch, and Simon still hadn’t received his notice. The anxiety was making him focus even harder on his studies when a sharp knock echoed through his dorm room.
’Knock, knock.’
He was studying with Toto. Simon got up and opened the door.
’Whoa.’
Standing there was the hook-nosed dorm supervisor, a figure of terror for students for various reasons. Her eyes were wide and glaring.
"It’s the supervisor."
"Ah, yes."
’I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?’ While Simon’s mind raced, she spoke. "Student Council President, someone from Kizen Headquarters is here to see you. Please go to the main building at once."
"From the Headquarters? I will get going."
It seemed the news about his dispatch was finally here. But a sense of unease crept over him. Why would an official from headquarters come all this way? Why not just use the campus broadcast? And why send the dorm supervisor? The questions piled up, but this was a time for action. Simon quickly changed into his uniform and headed for the main campus building.
When he arrived, he found minions waiting for him.
’Ah, these minions from the HQ.’
The quality of their suits was on another level entirely. They were known to be a class above the minions who worked on campus. Following their lead, Simon was escorted to a reception room.
One of the minions knocked for him. "Student Council President Simon Polentia is here."
"Send him in."
The door to the small reception room swung open. A man in a striped suit, black tie, and glasses looked up from his papers.
"Welcome, Student Council President."
He was dressed like an ordinary salaryman, but his face was square and severe, marked by a long, jagged scar across his forehead. His watch was cracked, and his eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s. As someone who worked at Kizen HQ, he was clearly no simple office worker. He radiated a formidable presence.
"Please, sit."
"Ah, yes."
Simon sat, and the minions served tea. The HQ official casually flipped through a file, his fingertips thick with calluses.
"Are you enjoying your school life?" he asked suddenly.
Simon, unfazed by the pleasantry, smiled. "Yes, it’s very enjoyable."
"I’m glad to hear it. On days when I’m exhausted from my duties, I often close my eyes and reminisce about my own days on campus. The sweet innocence of sharing candy in the library during exam time. As we shared candy like that, she and I eventually..." He trailed off, noticing Simon’s dumbfounded expression, and quickly concluded, "In any case, those happy memories often sustain my weary heart."
"Ah, so you’re an alumnus."
"The vast majority of headquarters staff are Kizen graduates," he said, setting the file down. "You must have been wondering why the selection of your dispatch location was delayed."
’Here we go.’ Simon’s focus sharpened. "Where am I being sent?"
"I will explain once the other student arrives."
It seemed he had a partner. Soon, another knock came, followed by a minion’s voice from the hall.
"Student Merida Hugh Ikel has arrived."
"Yes, send her in."
The door opened, and a girl with sleepy eyes, wrapped in a thin blanket as if it were a robe, entered the room. She was the fourth-ranked student overall, the representative of the Curses department, and the one and only younger sister of Phantastus Hugh Ikel.
’So Merida is my partner this time!’
Her mint-colored hair was striking. She walked over with a blank expression and sat demurely beside Simon, not even sparing him a glance.
"Yes, the two of you will be dispatch partners for the next five days," the HQ official said with a smile. "Why don’t you two say hello?"
The man was surprisingly adept at this, likely a skill honed during his own Kizen days. Simon had been wanting to have a proper conversation with Phantastus’s sister anyway. He turned to her with a friendly smile, but Merida only flickered her eyes in his direction before staring straight ahead again. She clearly had no interest in talking. Instead, she fixed the HQ official with a silent, protesting gaze.
"Ahem, very well. Then I shall explain the dispatch." He picked up a briefcase from the floor. After disarming a series of security magic circles, he opened it to reveal a bright red envelope bearing the Kizen insignia. He pulled out a crisp document and unfolded it.
"Simon and Merida. Your dispatch location is the Ivory Tower."
The announcement was so unexpected that Simon’s jaw dropped.
’The Ivory Tower?’
He had never imagined Kizen would send him there.
"The Ivory Tower has earnestly requested the dispatch of you two students."
That meant they had invested an enormous amount of money into making this happen.
"The Ivory Tower is an important ally to Kizen. After a thorough review of the proposed mission, our superiors determined it to be a suitable opportunity to maximize your capabilities and have accepted their request."
In other words, they had paid so much that even the elders at headquarters couldn’t refuse.
’This is strange.’ Simon crossed his arms. Though they were both members of the Dark Alliance, Kizen and the Ivory Tower were fierce rivals in recruiting talent. The constant tension between Lorraine and Serne was proof enough of that. To send not a Crow or a professional necromancer from HQ, but the Student Council President and a Top 4 student...
’Is there some hidden agenda?’
Simon racked his brain, trying to decipher Kizen’s underlying motive. Throughout all this, Merida seemed completely unfazed, letting out a small yawn and blinking her sleepy eyes. It looked like she was fighting to stay awake.
"Ah, of course, you will not be going to the Ivory Tower’s main building," the official clarified, producing a new document.
"What’s this?"
Simon’s eyes widened as he saw the pamphlet, which was adorned with a drawing of a clock.
"We invite you to the Festival of Time?"
From the very start, this was one suspicious dispatch.

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