Chapter 9: A man who smells Japanese.

Barging into a girls-only tea party uninvited—are these guys drunken old men?
I sigh, recognizing the boys.
Leading them is Bugzeed Shachonarudo, a marquis’s son who loves showing off.
He’s in A-class but not even in the top ten, yet he has the gall to crash the valedictorian’s tea party with such arrogance.
I’m impressed.

The other boys—how do they put up with him?
I want to ask, “Can’t you read the room?” but maybe they really can’t.
After all, we’re all 11-year-old kids—sixth graders, basically.
They’re probably starting to see girls as romantic interests but don’t know how to approach them.
Like boys teasing their crushes, they’ve overstepped.
I won’t judge them too harshly; even Sukumi Tanishi had his share of embarrassing moments.

“Sorry, but today’s tea party is for ‘A-class girls to admire a goblin,’ so we’d appreciate it if the boys could leave,” Zoldietta says, bluntly labeling me a goblin and urging the boys to go.

I’m not so childish as to miss her intent.
The boys’ excuse is likely, “If he’s invited, why not us?”
By declaring, “Only girls and a goblin (male) are here,” she cuts off their argument, using my presence against them.
It stings, but I get that siding with her is the smart move… which makes it all the sadder.

“Goburi, gobu gobu, Goblinho…”

Mimicking the “goblin language” Tarte used when she crawled from the crater, I improvise a goblin dance, throwing in occasional “Ge!” and “Pe!” sounds for flair.

“Aray… are you okay with this…?”

A nearby boy looks at me with disgust, but I’m doing this so you guys can back off gracefully.
If you dig in your heels, you’ll clash with the girls you’ll share a class with for a year.
Zoldietta and I are giving you an out, so take it like men.

“A goblin’s a monster—dangerous. You need protection.”

There’s the idiot.
Bugzeed strides toward Zoldietta, ordering a maid—not even his family’s—to prepare him a seat next to her.
The maid doesn’t budge.
He’s so self-absorbed he doesn’t notice the servant itching to intervene, restrained by Zoldietta’s raised hand.

That servant, a salutatorian academy graduate, is an upper-class adult woman with authority kids can’t defy.
In this kingdom, noble children aren’t nobles yet—just candidates still being educated for upper-class status.
But forcing compliance with adult authority won’t satisfy kids.
Zoldietta likely wants to resolve this gently, preserving class harmony and the boys’ pride.

“Protection? Are you insulting me, implying I can’t handle a goblin?”

A tall, well-toned girl rises from her seat.
The boys’ faces pale as they realize they’ve stepped into a minefield.
With A-class girls gathered, they should’ve expected her.

Sakuranome Mujihidane, a viscount’s daughter.
Normally, her glossy black hair is in a hime cut, giving her a refined Japanese beauty, but today it’s tied high in a ponytail, clad in a cherry-pink dress.
She’s a beauty transitioning from “cute” to “stunning,” hinting at future radiance, yet unanimously feared by classmates as [Violence Duke].
Exceptional in martial arts, she wields spears and swords masterfully and excels in hand-to-hand combat.
In one-on-one close combat, she’s unmatched among peers, boys included.
Despite her Yamato Nadeshiko appearance, when asked her favorite music, she smiles and says, “The sound of perfected joints breaking.”
Her merciless nature toward enemies makes her someone you never cross.

With Mujihidane here, if I tried anything inappropriate, she’d subdue and punish me instantly.
She could kill me in a second, but expecting mercy or a painless end from her is foolish.
She was the one earlier saying, “Goblins are monsters. No mercy…” ready to execute me.

“No, with Lady Mujihidane here, we’re not needed…”
“Who could’ve guessed a goblin-admiring tea party?”
“Barging into a girls’ tea party is tacky. We’ll excuse ourselves…”

The boys, realizing their disadvantage before Mujihidane resorts to force, back off.
They’re not particularly close to Bugzeed—likely egged on by him claiming, “We A-class guys deserve an invite over him.”
They knew it was rude but couldn’t resist the chance to get close to girls they like.
Their age-appropriate childishness is endearing, and recalling my own past-life embarrassments, I silently cheer their retreating backs.

– I won’t laugh at you. That was me once…

Abandoned by his posse, Bugzeed is left alone.
Mujihidane approaches with steady, flawless steps, asking in a quiet voice, “Think I’d lose to a goblin? Or are you claiming you’re stronger?”

Bugzeed commands a 7-meter-long Hihaki Wyvern, making him a top fighter among peers, but he himself lacks the skill to face Mujihidane.
Yet his careless remark—implying he doubts her strength or is stronger without his familiar—proves the rumor that he’s “poorly disciplined for a marquis’s heir.”
He brought servants from his marquis family, but unlike Zoldietta’s chaperone, he has no strict overseer, allowed to do as he pleases.
It’s as if his family has no interest in raising him properly…

“You make me come all this way, and this is how you act… How disappointing. Enjoy your goblin, kids…”

With theatrical flair, Bugzeed delivers an exaggerated, pantomime-like “oh well” gesture and exits, not forgetting to shoot me a spiteful glare—a true ham actor.
What would he say if I asked, “How do you feel right now?”

“Thanks, both of you,” Zoldietta says.
“Thank Aray. His goblin act made it quick,” Mujihidane adds.
“Gobu gobu…”
“I apologize for the goblin treatment, but that’s enough,” Zoldietta says.

The girls giggle at me, and I briefly consider a career as a goblin comedian, but Tarte scolds me.
My goblin language was so bad it included crude words unfit for girls.
To be a goblin comedian, I’d need to master the language.

“Even if he’s hiding his true feelings, that acting was over the top…”
“He’s a small fry trying to look big,” Kusera says.
“Rumors about being disinherited—true?”
“Look at his crowd. He’s kept at arm’s length from the faction’s core…”

The tea party resumes, shifting to Bugzeed.
For the girls sharing a class with him, it’s not just gossip.

“I can’t say too loudly, but dukes and marquises sometimes send kids to the academy because they don’t want to spend on their education,” Zoldietta explains.

Everyone listens closely.
She says true heirs of dukes and marquises are typically educated at home by a team of teachers like the academy’s faculty, at enormous cost.
Though her grandfather still holds the marquis title, her family plans to raise her younger brother that way.
She laughs it off as general knowledge, not specifics about other families.
I thought the academy was elite, but true super-elites invest differently in education.

“He’s the eldest son, right?”
“Not worth investing in?”
“He still thinks he’s the heir…”
“So the rumors are true?”

I’ve heard the rumors about Bugzeed: at age eight, he was caught training or threatening servants to be loyal only to him, not the marquis, earning him a “dangerous” label from his father.
A senior from the specialized course, Buchonarudo, a Shachonarudo branch family member, refuses to discuss him, neither confirming nor denying, suggesting the marquis family hasn’t settled his fate.

Normally, an eight-year-old doing that is laughable.
But Bugzeed’s self-centered, arrogant attitude, looking down on even adults, lends the rumors credibility.
And hearing them, a suspicion hit me…

– Is he a reincarnator like me?

I’ve always felt something off about Bugzeed.
Why?
His mindset clashes with this world’s upper-class norms.
Thinking he’s a reincarnator makes sense.
He’s too… Japanese.

He treats “freedom,” “equality,” “fairness,” and “rights” like sacred truths and uses “discrimination = evil” simplistically—ideas downplayed among this kingdom’s upper class.
My father taught me that noble houses prioritize duty over freedom or equality, which are seen as commoner concerns.

His view that accidental harm is less sinful than intentional violence is also off.
He casually says, “My hand slipped” or “I didn’t see,” when causing trouble, but noble children wouldn’t.
Upper-class nobles and samurai are the magical warrior class, authorized to use force at their discretion.
To them, intentional violence is a rightful exercise of power, while accidental harm is shameful.
A noble would justify their actions with conviction, not childish excuses like “I didn’t mean to.”

Plus, he carries a katana—a Japanese sword—worn with the blade up, unlike this world’s norm of blade-down, hung from waist or shoulder.
I made the same mistake in the Dwarf Kingdom and got called out by a swordsmith for odd habits.
Katanas here are seen as less practical but beautiful, used as art or for ceremonial guards.

He might not be Japanese, but his values are similar, and he seems to look down on this world as backward.
He shows little respect for teachers, acting like they have nothing to teach, and brags, “I’d do better” about historical figures.
He might think this “backward” world’s knowledge isn’t worth learning.
That could explain his failure to align his worldview with this world’s norms.
As a reincarnator hiding my past, I struggled to avoid applying old-world logic here.
That’s probably why he feels off.

The girls seem to have added Bugzeed to their list of people likely to be disowned post-adulthood.
Adulthood here is 16, coinciding with graduation, so many look for future partners at the academy.
Nobody wants a dud.
I think they’re right.
If he’s a reincarnator who wanted his own vassals at eight, who knows what he’d do for ambition?
Best to steer clear.