Chapter 12: I want to make a Secret Society!
I was lying in my chair, staring up at the ceiling with absolutely nothing to do.
GTP was rambling something about regional tax trends again.
I cut in.
"...Hey, GTP?"
[Yes?]
"...I wanna make a secret organization."
[Pardon?]
"You heard me."
I sat up, eyes shining with purpose.
"A secret group. Like, underground. Mysterious. You know... hooded cloaks, coded messages, cool poses in the moonlight."
[Analyzing.]
"Something that pulls strings from the shadows," I said, practically vibrating. "Like... the Shadow Bloom Society."
[Shadow... Bloom?]
"Yeah. You know, like in The Eminence of Midnight."
[You mean The Eminence in the Shadow?]
"Shut up, copyright."
[Understood. Shadow Bloom Society initialized.]
I leaned back, arms behind my head.
"Man, ever since I got isekai'd, I've always wanted to do this. The ultimate dream—being the mysterious guy behind a world-spanning organization of overpowered weirdos."
[Then you require a setting with high social density, low suspicion, and lots of chaotic opportunity.]
"...In English?"
[Go to school.]
"Huh?"
[Specifically—the Altherian Imperial Academy. High-status individuals from all over the empire attend. It is a breeding ground for manipulation, networking, and cool midnight dramatic rooftop monologues.]
"...So like a university?"
[Exactly. The perfect place to start building your society from the shadows.]
I slowly grinned.
"GTP... I like the way you think."
[Shall I begin preparations? Student identity? Forged recommendations? Dorm options?]
"Oh yeah. And get me a black cloak too."
* * *
The sun peeked through the canopy as I stood alone in the middle of a quiet forest.
A longsword in hand.
Sweat on my brow.
And absolutely zero clue what I was doing.
"...Okay, GTP. Help."
[I have accessed over 40,000 hours of Earth-standard combat footage. Would you like to replicate the techniques of Miyamoto Musashi? Or perhaps Yi Sun-shin? Joan of Arc?]
"...Bro, I don't even know who the third one is."
[Doesn't matter. I'll do the swinging.]
I tightened my grip, glancing at the scarred tree in front of me.
This wasn't just for fun.
It was for the Academy Entrance Exam.
If I wanted to infiltrate the Altherian Imperial Academy, I couldn't just show up and say "Hey I write really good manga."
No.
They had physical tests.
Combat trials.
Real sword fighting.
And I... was a guy who once cut his finger opening a letter.
"Fine. Possess me."
[Motor control activated.]
My body straightened.
Grip adjusted.
Feet shifted into a stance I didn't even know existed.
Then—
WHOOSH.
I moved.
The blade danced through the air like a living thing, cutting wind with every slash.
Perfect arcs. Footwork like flowing water.
Spins, counters, parries—GTP was going all out.
I looked terrifying. Elegant. Dangerous.
But inside?
I was dying.
My muscles screamed.
My arms trembled.
My lungs begged for oxygen.
"H-hey... h-hold on a sec—"
[Spin attack initiated.]
"WAIT—"
WHAM.
I slammed into a tree, gasping, sword slipping from my fingers.
I collapsed on the grass, chest heaving like a fish out of water.
[Conclusion: Combat performance—optimal. Physical endurance—garbage.]
"...Shut up."
[Would you like to resume? I can lower intensity by 12%.]
"...Make it 80."
[Coward.]
"SHUT UP."