Chapter 18 | Reincarnated as the Hero’s Childhood Friend, Then Saving the World

Margarita always believed that if people were wound too tightly, they would turn into Boing-Boing Bombs when they grew old.

Which meant she was currently on the verge of exploding.

Ever since their last talk, Joshua had been finding every possible excuse to hang around Instructor Clara’s office. He wouldn't say anything; he would just sit there and watch her. At first, she thought something was wrong and asked him what it was. Then, she thought he might have been injured during training and stood up to check his arms, but he simply said, “I’m fine.” Now, she had given up on acknowledging him entirely, keeping her head down as she flipped through Clara’s copy of Advanced Soul Magic. He would just pull up a chair in the corner of the office and sit there quietly until her class ended, then he would leave.

Margarita closed the book and leaned against the wall, staring at the black-haired boy in the corner who was pretending to look at the scenery out the window. Joshua only showed her the back of his head, but he clearly knew she was looking at him.

One of the three heroines, please, any one of you, just come and take him away.

Lovell was busy every day with training, night hunting, and counting copper coins. She treated Joshua more like a brother in arms; she didn't have any romantic feelings for him at all. Constance was even more out of the question; Joshua was like a block of wood in her presence, never speaking a word beyond what was necessary for mission reports. As for Clara...

“Joshua.”

“Yeah?”

“Go back and rest after your training. Don't come here every day; Instructor Crow has work to do.”

“...Instructor Crow said she doesn't mind.”

Margarita looked up. A soft cough came from Clara’s inner room as she leaned out with a tea cup, raising it toward Margarita with a smile she couldn't quite hide.

Clara, you are really something else.

Margarita buried her face in the book and took a deep breath. The scent of ink filled her nose, making her cough. Joshua immediately turned his head.

“Are you okay?”

Can I just have a moment of peace?

Margarita slammed the book onto the desk and stood up. “I’m going out for some air.”

“I’ll go with you—”

“No need.” She flashed a smile at Joshua. “I’m just going for a walk. You go back to the dormitory. And don't come back after training tomorrow either; just focus on your sword practice.”

“...Alright.” Joshua might not understand much, but he recognized the fake smile Margarita had been wearing for years.

And so, Margarita slipped out the academy’s back gate alone and climbed up the hill behind the school.

The back hill wasn't really a mountain; at best, it was a hillock covered in wild grass and low shrubs. However, because of its height, one could overlook all of Himlabacken from the top. The academy was in the west of the city, and the back hill was even further west, separated from the main campus by a stretch of abandoned school buildings and broken walls. People rarely came here, except for the occasional pair of students trying to find a secret spot to date, thinking they wouldn't be discovered.

The afternoon sky over Himlabacken was a blindingly bright blue. Looking down from the hillock, the entire academy was visible. The people on the square were no larger than thumbs, and the sword-tip of the First Hero Statue in the center of the square pointed toward the northern sky. In the distance, the hills outside the city walls rolled like green waves. The wind was strong, rushing in from the north, blowing her loose white hair back and making the hem of her coat snap loudly.

Since the day her memories were unsealed, she had been fighting for time. Laying traps in Percy Village, dragging Joshua all over the mountains to find Star-Spun Stones, and pushing herself to the point of soul mana backlash in Clara’s classes. She was like someone who knew a flood was coming, standing on the levee desperately piling sandbags until her hands were covered in bloody blisters, but not daring to stop. Because the flood was real, death was real, and the smiling faces of the people around her were real too.

So she needed to forget it all, just for a moment.

Margarita suddenly remembered things from her previous life. When she had just started working, she liked to go to amusement parks and ride the drop towers when the pressure got too high. But a drop tower was pulled up by a machine; you sat in a chair, strapped in by a seatbelt, and pushed by hydraulic rods. That loss of control was fake. You knew the cables wouldn't break, and you knew there were cushions at the bottom.

But this was a bit more thrilling. She planned to just jump.

“Alright,” she said to herself.

Margarita took a deep breath. Then she spread her arms and leaned her body backward.

The gravel beneath her feet tumbled down as she fell. The last thing her vision caught was the sky overhead, burning red from the setting sun. Then came the wind. It rushed up from under her feet, flooded through her sleeves and the hem of her coat, and whistled through her scattered white hair. The edge of the cliff grew more and more distant in her sight as the sky unfurled like a piece of silk being torn open.

She fell face-up.

This feeling was completely different from jumping face-down. When you were face-down, you watched the ground getting closer; the fear had a target. But face-up, falling backward, you couldn't see the ground. You could only see the sky receding, the clouds receding, even the wind receding. Her entire body was buoyed by the wind and pulled by gravity, like a coin that had been tossed into the air.

By instinct, she raised her hands, channeling mana to condense two spheres of soft pink light in her palms.

Under the influence of Feather Fall, her descent slowed abruptly. Like a feather caught in the wind, she drifted gently downward.

She landed on a patch of grass, simply lying there on her back, looking up at the top of the hillock.

Then she climbed up again.

The second time she stood at the edge, she didn't hesitate. Her arms spread, and her body fell straight back. This time, she intentionally delayed the activation of Feather Fall, letting the free-fall last a bit longer.

Then Feather Fall bloomed. The pink light spread into a thin net beneath her, catching her and placing her gently on the ground.

When she landed, she let out a silly laugh. It wasn't loud, but it sounded clear in the quiet edge of the woods.

By the third time, she was a bit tired from climbing. The hillock wasn't high, but the slope was steep and filled with gravel; a single trip took quite some time to catch her breath. She sat at the top for a moment, watching the setting sun sink in the west while the lights of the city flickered on like a handful of gold dust scattered over dark blue velvet.

Then she stood up and walked to the edge. This time, she didn't spread her arms; she just let them hang by her sides and closed her eyes.

And fell back.

In those few seconds of falling, she thought of nothing. The wind rushed up from beneath her, billowing her deep blue uniform. Her white hair scattered in the wind like a shredded flag. The entire world was receding, and the sky unfurled above her. She couldn't see the ground, the slope, the gravel, or the weeds. She could only see the sky—the endless sky, and the deep blue dome that was growing more distant as it was dyed by the twilight.

The weightlessness enveloped her, like a hand plucking her out of her own body. All the heavy things were left behind: the tension, the anxiety, the fear, the pain in her temples, Constance’s scrutinizing gaze, Joshua’s chest that had nearly been pierced by a demon, the “irreversible damage” Clara had mentioned... All of it was shredded by the wind and left in the wake of her fall.

Only then did she release Feather Fall. The pink light bloomed beneath her, catching her and setting her gently on the grass.

Margarita lay on her back on the grass, her chest heaving, her mouth split into a grin. She was laughing—truly, unrefinedly laughing. The wind rushed over, tangling her white hair as it lay scattered across the grass.

She felt like she had come back to life.

Then, she heard footsteps.

The rhythm of the steps on the gravel was steady and composed. Margarita turned her head to see a figure emerge from behind the broken wall of the ruined school building. Her long golden hair was tied in a low ponytail, and she wore a thin jacket over her deep gray riding habit, with that silver-white longsword hanging at her waist.

Constance von Windermere.

Margarita didn't get up, nor did she hide the expression on her face. She just lay there on the grass, her head tilted to watch Constance approach, her mouth still curled in a grin.

“President, are you here to try bungee jumping too?”

“...I was just passing through on patrol.”

...

Constance von Windermere never did anything without preparation.

Margarita’s application for the group had been lying in her drawer for nearly a month. She had spent half an hour every day in the archives, flipping through Margarita Percy’s enrollment records, attendance sheets, combat evaluations, and the training notes Glion had scribbled down. A village girl from the frontier with no mana and no talent for swordsmanship had somehow lured away pursuing enemies alone during a demon attack and remained unscathed. This was the kind of feat that the palace’s military strategists might not be able to replicate even after three months of meetings.

She needed this person.

But Margarita had been avoiding her. The cafeteria, the training grounds, the library, the Magic Department classrooms—she couldn't be found on any conventional route. The door to Clara’s office was always closed, and every time she knocked, the answer was “Margarita isn't here today.”

Until just now, when she had been patrolling past the ruined school building and saw that white-haired figure at the top of the hillock.

She hadn't revealed herself immediately. Instead, she had stood behind a second-floor window and watched the entire process.

The first Feather Fall had activated nearly two meters from the ground. By the third time, she had managed to delay it to less than half a meter. This speed of progress was abnormal. Furthermore, she had laughed after the third time; the sound of that laughter had been broken up by the wind, but Constance had heard it clearly.

It was different from the Margarita who was so gentle she felt cold on the training grounds, and different from the Margarita whose smile slowly crumbled under her questioning in the library.

As Constance came down from the second floor, she thought to herself that this person indeed knew how to fight for time. But she also knew how to find an escape for herself.

She walked out from behind the broken wall, intentionally letting her footsteps sound heavy.

...

“Your patrol route is quite out of the way, President,” Margarita said, still lying down. “Going from the academy square to the ruined school buildings—that’s a larger patrol range than the academy guards.”

“There have been reports of stray monsters in the ruined school buildings recently,” Constance said, looking down at her. “I came to check.”

“Oh.” Margarita raised a hand to brush the hair away from her face. “Are you finished checking? If you are, could you step aside? I’m preparing to jump again.”

Constance did not move.

“You jumped three times,” Constance said.

“Mm-hm.”

“During these three landings, your mana output decreased, but your precision increased.” Constance’s tone was calm. “You were practicing using less mana to achieve the same cushioning effect.”

“Is the President interested in joining me?”

“I am evaluating your potential.” Constance squatted down to look Margarita in the eye. “You haven't even had two months of classes with Clara, yet you can control a technique with this level of precision. That is not something someone with ‘no talent’ can achieve.”

“Just say what you want to say, President.”

“The Special Action Group,” Constance said. “That application form has been in your hands for almost a month.”

“Joshua has already been on a mission once.”

“You know I’m not talking about him.”

Margarita remained silent for a while. She truly hadn't submitted the application Constance had given her in the library. Constance didn't push her; she simply stayed squatted there, waiting quietly. The chime of the academy square’s bell drifted from afar, echoing over the broken walls and the hillock, startling a few sparrows.

“President,” Margarita spoke, her voice much softer than usual, stripped of its habitual gentle disguise. “Do you know why I haven't submitted that form?”

“Tell me.”

“Because I don't know what capacity I should join in.” Margarita raised her hand, palm up. A pink spark the size of a pea slowly condensed, looking like a lost firefly in the twilight. “I’m not combat personnel. My support spells are only good for being an assistant, and my mana circuits are so narrow that I have to lie in bed for a day after using them once. What can I do there? Just be a burden to you all?”

Constance looked at the spark, her emerald eyes reflecting a trace of pale pink.

“In the Percy Village attack, you alone attracted the majority of the demons,” she said. “Without combat ability, facing enemies dozens of times your number, you used traps and terrain to hold out until the villagers were evacuated. That is not being a burden.”

“...”

“The Special Action Group has never been solely about combat.” Constance pulled a folded document from her vest and placed it on the grass next to Margarita. “Intelligence analysis, tactical planning, logistical coordination—every one of those requires people. What you’ve lacked isn't ability; it's a position.”

Margarita tilted her head to look at the document. The cover was stamped with the Windermere family’s wax seal, just like the letter before.

Constance stood up and brushed the grass off her riding habit. “You need people around you. Not just people like Joshua who charge ahead, but someone in the back who can watch the path for you and block out the things you shouldn't have to worry about.”

Margarita suddenly remembered Clara saying, “The path you walk will become reality.”

She remembered the night of the hunt, when Lovell said, “Then I’ll at least take care of myself so I don't cause trouble for you.”

She remembered Joshua squatting in the courtyard that day, his voice thick as he asked, “Why didn't you let someone tell me?”

She truly had been holding it all in. She had held it for so long she had almost forgotten what it felt like to let go of the tension.

“President,” she said.

“Yes.”

“If I say ‘okay,’ will you think I’m agreeing too casually?”

Constance looked down at her, her lips curving slightly for a fleeting moment.

“No,” she said. “You think for far too long before making every decision. It’s fine to be a little casual once in a while.”

Margarita let out a laugh, a completely unrefined one. She pushed herself up with her arms, reached out to take the document, flipped it open for a glance, and then closed it.

“I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Constance turned to leave, but after two steps she stopped and looked back. “By the way, regarding your cliff-jumping practice, you can wait even longer before releasing the Feather Fall.”

“...President, you really do want to jump with me.”

Constance ignored her, her golden low ponytail swaying in the twilight as she disappeared behind the broken wall of the ruined school building.

Margarita sat alone on the grass, cradling the document in her arms. The wind continued to blow, and stars began to appear one by one. The lights of the distant academy stretched out into a warm yellow band in the twilight.