Chapter 19 | Reincarnated as the Hero’s Childhood Friend, Then Saving the World

Margarita sat at her desk after returning from the hillock, studying the document Constance had given her. The flame of the oil lamp flickered, casting a pulsing light over the characters on the page. She turned to the second page, then back to the first, reading it over and over again.

“Ugh... it was too dark to see clearly earlier... what do you mean ‘Special Consultant Application Form’? Didn’t I join the Student Council?”

The top of the form was printed in elegant script: “Application for Special Consultant Appointment to the Student Council Special Action Group of Himlabacken Academy.” Beneath it was a row of items to be filled in: Name, Department, Areas of Expertise, Acceptable Mission Types, and Emergency Contact. The last line was marked in small print: “This form shall take effect only after being signed by both the Student Council President and the instructing teacher.”

Margarita stared at that line of small print for a long time.

“Special Consultant.” She whispered the term again, tapping her finger on the desk. “A consultant, not a member. Not official staff—a consultant.”

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. Clara wasn't in the dormitory tonight. The room next door was quiet, and the only sound in the hallway was the occasional crackle of the oil lamp’s wick.

What did being a Special Consultant imply? She closed her eyes and ran through it in her mind. Official members of the Special Action Group received mission stipends, training resources, and mission priority. If something went wrong, the Student Council and the academy would back them up. But a consultant? A consultant could attend meetings, offer suggestions, and “assist” in operations, but they weren't official staff, they had no fixed stipend, and any accidents wouldn't be the Student Council's responsibility.

Are you kidding me, you jerk!

Margarita slammed the form onto the desk and grabbed a pen, wanting to write “I quit” right there. The tip of the pen hovered over the paper for a long time before she finally put it down.

She picked up the form again and held it close to the lamp. The third page included a brief explanation of the consultant's scope of duties: providing tactical advice for the Special Action Group, assisting in the formulation of action plans, participating in mission summaries and debriefs, and providing battlefield support when necessary. Below that was a handwritten note in Constance’s lean and upright script: “May participate in missions; may refuse missions; attendance is not mandatory. However, if more than three missions are refused, consultant status will be automatically revoked.”

Margarita stared at the handwritten note for a long time.

“May refuse missions; attendance is not mandatory.” She read it softly, her lip twitching. “This isn't a trap; this is clearly...”

Before she could finish, she suddenly understood why Constance had placed her in this position. Official members had to follow orders, go where they were assigned, and were bound by the Student Council’s rules. A consultant was different. A consultant could pull out at any time, say “I can't go” at a critical moment, and maintain their own freedom of action.

And if she refused more than three times, the status was automatically revoked. She wouldn't even have to go through the trouble of officially resigning.

“Has this woman spent so many years in the palace that she’s using all her scheming on me?” Margarita put the form down and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

She flipped to the last page, where there was an even smaller line of text that she had to squint at the lamp to read: “Consultant stipends are issued on a per-mission basis; no fixed monthly salary. However, consultants may apply for Special Action Group training resources and intelligence access.”

Intelligence access. Margarita’s finger paused on those words. What could the Special Action Group’s database contain? Academy records, city defense reports, Adventurer’s Association files... maybe even a portion of the royal archives. Constance knew what she was looking for—or rather, Constance knew what she was “afraid of.” This access was a window opened just for her.

She flipped back to the first page, picked up her pen, and wrote “Tactical Planning, Trap Placement, Support Spells” in the “Areas of Expertise” column. Under “Acceptable Mission Types,” she wrote “Intelligence Analysis, Logistical Coordination, Field Support.” Finally, she hesitated at the “Emergency Contact” column before writing “Joshua Percy,” then added a parenthesis and wrote “Lovell Reed.”

After filling out the last column, she put down the pen and held the form up to the lamp to look it over. Her handwriting was neat and orderly, and standing next to Constance’s handwritten note, it didn't look out of place.

“Fine.” She folded the form and placed it on the table. After a moment of thought, she grabbed a sticky note and wrote a line of text before sticking it onto the form: “President, dig the hole a little shallower next time. —Margarita.”

She woke up very early the next morning. When Clara returned, Margarita had already finished washing up and was sitting at the table, flipping through Advanced Soul Magic. The form sat on the corner of the table, sticky note facing up.

Clara saw the note as she entered, picked it up to read, and the corners of her mouth curved. She put the note back, walked over to Margarita, and gently patted her white hair.

“Finished filling it out?”

“Yeah.”

“Figured it all out?”

Margarita closed the book and tilted her head to look at her. “I figured out half of it.”

“Which half didn't you understand?”

“Why Constance didn't just tell me it was a consultant position from the start instead of waiting for me to discover it.” Margarita tucked the book into her coat and stood up to stretch. “If she had said it outright, I might have just signed it.”

Clara picked up the form and flipped through it. When she saw the “Emergency Contact” column, her eyebrows twitched slightly. She didn't ask further, but simply scribbled a line in the instructor’s signature column and handed the form back to Margarita.

“If she had said it outright, you would have felt like she was choosing for you, and you would have refused just because you didn't want to be handled.” Clara walked to the window and pulled back the curtains, letting the morning light flood in. “She knows you too well.”

She knows me? She’s barely even seen me.

Margarita stood in the morning light, clutching the form, silent for a few seconds.

“Instructor.”

“Hmm?”

“The two of you have been privately discussing how to deal with me.”

Clara turned around, wearing that gentle, flawless smile that Margarita had grown so familiar with. “How could that be? I just happened to know.”

“Happened to?”

“Happened to.” Clara walked back to the table and poured herself a glass of water. “Go on and submit the form. Constance is in the Student Council activity room every morning. If you stall any longer, she’ll have to go to the back hill to find you again.”

Margarita tucked the form away and headed for the door. She stopped at the doorway and looked back at Clara.

“Instructor, people don't get tired when they’re being mischievous. Also, you always smile when you say ‘coincidentally.’”

Clara didn't stop her motion of holding the water cup, but the corners of her mouth lifted.

“Go on.”

Margarita left the dormitory and walked along the Magic Department’s corridor. The morning light hit the flagstones, stretching her shadow long and thin. The Student Council activity room was in a standalone building between the Swordsmanship Department and the Magic Department. She had never been inside, only seeing the dark wooden door and the bronze plate hanging beside it.

Halfway there, she ran into Lovell. The red-haired girl was running from the direction of the cafeteria, clutching a half-eaten piece of bread. She skidded to a halt when she saw Margarita.

“Little Mari! Why are you up so early today? Don't you usually wait until the last second to leave your room?”

“I have something to do.” Margarita waved the document in her hand. “I’m going to the Student Council.”

Lovell chewed her bread and leaned in to look at the document’s cover. “Special Consultant? You finally signed it?”

“How did you know about this?”

“Joshua said so in the cafeteria yesterday. He said Constance has been wanting to recruit you into the Special Action Group.” Lovell stuffed the rest of the bread into her mouth and slapped her hands. “He also said that if you sign, he’ll be able to see you in the Special Action Group legally and officially.”

Margarita’s steps faltered for a moment.

“Those were his exact words?”

“Pretty much.” Lovell draped an arm over her shoulder. “Little Mari, that brother of yours is talking more and more these days. Lately, he’s been at the training grounds every day asking Patrick about the Special Action Group’s mission procedures. Even Professor Glion asked him if he wanted to transfer to an administrative post.”

Margarita didn't respond and continued walking with her head down. Lovell followed beside her, her long legs moving quickly and effortlessly.

“Are you unhappy?”

“No.”

“Then why is your face so tense?”

Margarita glanced at her and her mouth curved into a gentle smile.

Lovell immediately reached out to press the corners of Margarita’s mouth down. “Whoa! Don't! Don't use that on me.”

Margarita slapped her hand away.

“I’m just thinking about something,” she said.

“What?”

“Constance dug the pit for this Special Consultant role so obviously, and my instructor was right there handing her the shovel.”

Lovell blinked. “So are you jumping in or not?”

Margarita reached the door of the Student Council activity room and stopped. The dark wooden door was closed, and the bronze plate was engraved with the words “Special Action Group.” She reached for the doorknob.

“I’m already standing at the door,” she said. “If I’m not jumping, why would I come here?”

Lovell grinned and gave her a thumbs-up. “Little Mari, you’re the type who says one thing but does another. Your body is very honest.”

Red-haired girl, I think you’re itching for a beating. Who are you calling a tsundere?

Margarita pushed open the door, and the morning light poured in from behind her, illuminating the dust in the activity room. Constance was sitting behind a long table by the window, pen in hand, with a report spread out before her. She looked up, her emerald eyes seeing the document in Margarita’s hand and then Lovell peeking in behind her. Her expression didn't change.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here.” Margarita walked to the desk and dropped the form on it, sticky note up. “President, dig the hole a little shallower next time.”

Constance looked at the sticky note without much of a reaction. She took the note, folded it, and put it in a drawer, then scanned the form before signing her name on the last page.

“Welcome to the Special Action Group, Consultant Margarita Percy.” Constance closed the form and handed it back to Margarita. “There is a Mission Summary Meeting tomorrow afternoon. You will attend.”

Margarita took the form and looked down at the spot where Constance had signed. The handwriting was lean and upright, exactly like the note she had seen on the back of the form last night.

“President.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you keeping that sticky note?”

Constance had already lowered her head to continue reading the report, her pen gliding across the paper. Without looking up, she said, “As a souvenir. It’s rare for you not to avoid something.”

Margarita opened her mouth to speak, but in the end, she just tucked the form away and turned to leave. Lovell followed her out the door and doubled over laughing as soon as they were outside.

“Little Mari, I feel like she’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

“Shut up.”

“Your face turned green after you signed.”

“If you say one more word, I’m stuffing a bag of wild boar bristles into your pillow.”

Lovell immediately raised her hands in surrender.

The two of them walked back along the corridor, the morning light making the white stone floor shine. Margarita looked down at the signed form in her hand; Constance’s name sat neatly in the bottom right corner of the last page. She looked at it for a long time before folding it into her coat, looking up, and continuing forward.

Lovell hummed an out-of-tune tune beside her, her red ponytail swaying in the morning light. When they reached the intersection, Margarita stopped and glanced toward the training grounds. Joshua was running with the Advanced Class. His gray training vest was soaked with sweat, and his black hair was plastered to his forehead. He was running seriously, not noticing them.

Margarita withdrew her gaze and turned onto the path leading to the Magic Department.

“Little Mari,” Lovell called from behind.

“Yeah?”

“Can I also attend the Mission Summary Meeting tomorrow afternoon?”

Margarita looked back at her. “You’re not part of the Special Action Group.”

“I’m your family.”

“Since when?”

“Just now.”

Margarita looked at her grinning face and sighed.

“Whatever.”

...

When Margarita pushed open the dormitory door, Clara was sitting by the window drinking tea.

“Back?” Clara didn't even look up, swirling her teacup. “Form submitted?”

“Submitted.” Margarita tossed her coat over the back of a chair and collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Instructor, do you think there's something wrong with Constance?”

“How so?”

“Special Consultant.” Margarita rolled over and lay face down on the bed, her voice muffled as she spoke into the pillow. “Not a member, not official staff, she’s not responsible if something happens, mission stipends but no monthly salary, and if I refuse three times, the qualification is automatically cancelled. She dug a pit for me that lets me come and go as I please, and I actually have to thank her.”

Clara took a sip of tea, quietly suppressing a smile. “But you signed, didn't you?”

“I signed because it would’ve looked cowardly to stand at the door and not sign.” Margarita lifted her face from the pillow, her white hair sticking to her face in a mess. “And the intelligence access is really tempting. Instructor, do you know what that access can get me? Academy records, city defense... maybe even part of the royal archives.”

“So you still came out ahead.”

“I came out ahead, but I feel frustrated.” Margarita rolled over to lie on her back, her arms spread out. “She never even asked me ‘Are you willing?’ once. She just shoved the form at me, and then all the conditions were right there on the paper. I looked at it for two hours before I realized she had pre-dug every single hole. I bet she even calculated how long I would hesitate.”

Clara put down her teacup, came over to sit on the edge of the bed, and looked down at Margarita’s face, which was filled with indignation.

“Then why didn't you refuse?”

“...”

“Because you really do need that access,” Clara answered for her. “Because searching for things alone is too slow. Because you need people around you who can help you. Constance saw that, so she didn't need to ask if you were willing. she only needed to place the thing in front of you, and you would take it yourself.”