Tilea's Worries

Several hours had passed since we started the Zenon language lesson with Edim. He’s been teaching us diligently, covering grammar and sentence structures, filling up the blackboard with explanations, and occasionally crafting example sentences. It’s not a monotonous lecture either—he puts effort into keeping things engaging.

Edim is incredibly patient and detailed.

I really admire him. He’s such a good kid.

But... I feel so bad.

Honestly, I’m completely lost.

At first, it felt nostalgic, like back in school when I learned about sentence structure and thought, “Oh yeah, I remember learning that.” 

Was it called the SVO theory?

That’s when my understanding started to crumble.

Isn’t it enough to just add “ed” to verbs when it’s in the past tense?

Then there were talks of coordinating conjunctions and subordinating conjunctions... 

Did I ever learn that?

This is way too advanced for me.

And me—someone who learned modern 21st-century education—can’t keep up.

Well, to be fair, I didn’t study much back then, but still, I picked up a little, right?

Maybe Zenon language has some subtle differences from English after all.

Either way, I’m exhausted.

I can’t remember the last time I used my brain this much. The mental fatigue is real.

Currently, we’re working on some example problems...

I’m staring at the Zenon language worksheet Edim made for us.

There’s a fill-in-the-blank question.

“I bought a book, ( ) is written in Zenon.”

...

...

...

I have no idea.

I wonder if Oru is keeping up with this.

Knowing Oru, it wouldn’t surprise me if his entire paper is blank.

Maybe I should take a peek at how he’s doing.

This isn’t a test, so it wouldn’t count as cheating. I’m just curious how far Oru’s gotten.

“Oru.”

I called out to him in a soft voice, trying not to disrupt his focus.

“Yes, Tilea-sama, what is it?”

“So, um, are you able to follow this? Did you know what a relative pronoun was?”

“Well, I have a vague recollection, but it’s a bit hazy. However, I do recall that usually putting in ‘that’ or ‘which’ should be correct.”

As he spoke, I glanced at Oru’s answer sheet, and just like he said, the blanks were filled with rows of “that.”

Oi, oi, oi! What’s that!?

Is this the classic “write ‘that’ in every answer and hope for the best” strategy? 

Does he really think such a sloppy approach would work?

Oru is definitely still Oru.

After struggling to fill in the blanks, we listened to Edim as he gave the correct answers.

...

...

...

Wha—what!? 

I was shocked.

Surprisingly, Oru had gotten a fair number of answers right.

The “that” strategy seems to work more than I expected?

Though Edim did reprimand him, saying, “Next time, try using something other than ‘that.’ Are you even taking this seriously, writing ‘that’ for everything?”

W-wow, you’re not half-bad after all, Oru.

He probably scored around forty points.

Wait! Hold on a minute.

Am I losing to Oru by a few points!?

“O-Oru, you’re surprisingly good at this.”

“No, no, I just happened to remember those by chance. But I still didn’t get more than half right. It’s rather embarrassing. It’s been over a thousand years, so I’ve forgotten most of it.”

Ugh, this Chuunibyou! What do you mean “over a thousand years”!

You’re exaggerating so much! At most, it’s been a few years since your last lesson!

Meanwhile, I haven’t done this in decades, not since my previous life. I’ve forgotten way more than you.

Yeah, that’s right.

I have a bigger handicap here. It’s not strange that I’m falling behind Oru a little.

The lesson continued.

Edim asked how much we understood, and I answered honestly.

Edim’s smile was tight and strained.

I’m really sorry for being so clueless.

After listening to us, Edim suggested switching to a game format for the lesson.

Yes, this I can do.

I can challenge Oru to a vocabulary showdown and get my revenge.

...

In the end, I lost.

Apparently, “one way traffic” is the correct translation for “one-way street.”

I couldn’t believe it at first.

But if Edim, our resident genius, says it with such confidence, then it must be right.

So I’ve been wrong all this time.

In my previous life, whenever I got lost and found myself at a dead end, I’d often say something like, “Whoops, seems like I’ve hit an accelerator. Level 5, here I come,” trying to sound cool.

Wow, that’s cringy.

Looks like I’ve added another black mark to my history.

But hey, at least now I know the correct term. I’ll keep soaking up knowledge like a sponge!

Just as I was reaffirming my newfound commitment to learning, Edim suggested abandoning the lesson altogether.

He told me I could just make up my own Zenon language rules—grammar, vocabulary, everything. He even suggested burning all the proper books and burying any scholars who opposed me.

What am I, the First Emperor of China!?

I wanted to retort, but I understood where Edim was coming from.

He’s just exhausted from teaching.

I mean, Oru and I aren’t exactly model students like Tim or Dryas.

Now that I think about it, Oru was hurling quite a bit of abuse at Edim. I didn’t even try to stop him.

It was a bad move on my part, but I was so busy trying to keep up with the lesson that I couldn’t afford to pay attention.

It’s no wonder Edim is fed up.

He didn’t say things like, “This is annoying,” or “I’ve had enough,” but he still found a roundabout way to express his desire to stop the lesson in his own Chuunibyou-esque style.

I get it.

I told Edim I understood how he felt, and then I left the room.

Phew... Studying really isn’t for me.

Doing something you don’t like is incredibly draining.

It’s time to get back to basics.

I’m a chef. If I want my restaurant to thrive, I need to focus on improving my cooking.

Now that I think about it, there wasn’t really any need for me to study at all.

I just got caught up in the competition with that pervert and Oru and ended up pushing myself to study.

But really, the initial goal was simply to cater to Zenon customers.

I’ve just realized something—I don’t actually need to learn Zenon language at all, do I?

The pervert can handle translations. His language skills are more than good enough to serve customers. Even if a Zenon customer shows up when the pervert isn’t around, I can just grab one of the soldiers. Someone is always hanging around the Underground Empire anyway.

Oh no, I can feel my motivation draining away.

I’ll focus on cooking. That’s enough, right?

As I was shifting gears mentally, I heard Edim rushing after me, out of breath.

“Ti-Tilea-sama!”

“Edim.”

“I... I’m terribly sorry! Please, give me another chance! I swear I’ll teach you Zenon language perfectly next time!”

He looked so desperate, and I felt really guilty.

“Edim, I’m sorry. I’ve decided to give up on learning Zenon.”

“Wh-what? I know I’m incompetent, but I promise I’ll do better. Please, I beg you, show me mercy!”

“No, no, it’s not your fault. I just realized... I don’t really need to learn Zenon at all.”

“Y-you’re right. I never really understood why you wanted to learn it in the first place.”

“Exactly. Besides, in any situation where Zenon language might be needed, can’t we just rely on Neils—uh, one of the soldiers?”

“You’re absolutely right.”

“I’m really sorry for wasting your time. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“No, I’m just happy to have been of any use to you. So, we’ll call the Zenon language lessons over then?”

“Wait, not quite. Oru seems pretty dedicated, so could you keep teaching him?”

“Guh! Th-that’s...”

“What? Is it too much to ask? Are you too busy?”

“Well, I am busy, but...”

“I see. I can’t expect you to take on more than you can handle. I’ll ask Tim to help instead.”

“I’ll do it!”

Wow, Edim jumped at that with a lot of energy.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! There’s no way I’d let Camilla-sama waste her time on that idiot! I can’t allow that.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I’ll leave Oru in your capable hands then.”

I entrusted Oru’s future lessons to Edim.

Even though the two are like oil and water, maybe this is a chance for them to get along better.