A Definitive Setback

From the perspective of Elise, who was once Eric

The opening act sees the mother duck leading, with the ducklings following behind.

This is strictly a play.

To ensure that the audience can empathize, we don't completely transform into actual ducks. Instead, we take on a cartoonish, endearing appearance that retains human-like qualities—except for me, I alone become the ugly duckling.

Among the duck transformation spells, there's a measure where, if sung in a different rhythm, results in a slightly larger and less attractive swan chick—that's my role.

Each of the ducklings takes turns hurling biting lines at me.

Of course, it's all scripted, and since they are my classmates from Giraffe Class, no one truly throws their lines with genuine hatred.

As part of the play, everyone performs fluidly, making their voices appealing.

It's impressive.

Even though it's Giraffe Class, they're all elites.

I can't afford to be outdone by them.

I perform the role of being bullied while appealing to the audience.

Sparse applause follows.

People are distracted, not all are watching seriously; the audience is diverse.

Feeling almost crushed by the pressure, I catch a glimpse of the intensely watching vice principal's face to relieve my tension.

I perform as if singing in a musical.

Eventually, the ducklings grow up, and soon, it's time for the climax.

I'm supposed to grow and transform into a swan.

This is my moment to prove everyone wrong.

If I succeed, the hall will be filled with catharsis.

But if I fail...

I begin the spell chant.

It's the swan transformation spell I've never managed to successfully perform during practice.

I chant the complex notes in a high-pitched voice.

I successfully complete the first part, the easier A section, and then I reach the most challenging part.

"Ah... Ah!"

I fail.

I kneel down.

Sighs escape from the audience.

"As expected."

"That's Giraffe Class for you. Good try."

"Isn't that the kid who was bragging about moving up to the senior class?"

Whispers flood my ears.

The play is a failure.

Once a spell chant fails, it cannot be recast for 30 minutes.

No one in the theater will wait that long.

As I look toward the wings, a boy who meets my gaze quickly looks away.

It seems my attempt has indeed failed.

Wait? I feel a strong gaze.

Akira!

He appears to be mouthing something.

What is he trying to say?

"Sing!"

It looks like he's telling me to sing.

What does he expect me to sing at a time like this, after such a defeat?

Suddenly, I realize and stand up.