The Princess Sitting Next to Me is a Sweet Girlfriend Only in Front of Me
The name Heim is my given name, and I don’t have a family name.
It’s common for commoners not to have a family name, and I’ve never particularly questioned it.
However, not having a family name is a glaring disadvantage in certain places.
Like here, at the Royal Magic Academy Palette, where nobles, who typically have family names, attend.
I’m a scholarship student at Palette, despite being a commoner.
Since the Magic Academy is a place to teach magic, it’s natural that I’m here as a scholarship student because I’ve shown exceptional talent in magic.
But there’s one thing I want to make clear: to me, it’s not talent.
Ever since I was born, I’ve been strangely engrossed in studying magic, and before I knew it, I had become skilled enough to attend the academy as a scholarship student.
Because I learned it so naturally, I honestly don’t feel like a “genius” when people call me that.
In fact, the environment around me has distorted my self-perception so much that I can no longer see myself as outstanding.
The Magic Academy is a place of learning for nobles.
After all, learning magic requires a certain environment and aptitude, and those who can provide such conditions are usually nobles or others in privileged economic positions.
The kingdom itself claims that “people are equal before magic” and recruits students widely from the populace, but it’s rare for talent to sprout from the common streets.
That’s why the few exceptions, like me—a commoner on a scholarship—face much harsher treatment than I had imagined before enrolling.
When students arrive at the academy, they first go to their assigned class.
There, they listen to announcements from the teacher, known as “Home,” before attending lectures.
I always arrive at the class just in time for “Home.”
Part of it is because living alone keeps me busy, but mainly, it’s to avoid unnecessary trouble.
“Hey, the ‘scrap’ is here.”
“I hope they don’t come near me. The filthy blood of a commoner is disgusting.”
Whispers like that reach my ears.
“Scrap.”
That’s what the nobles openly call commoner scholarship students like me.
They say magic belongs to the glorious nobles, and commoners who wield it are merely “scraping by” on their leftovers.
It’s ridiculous.
“People are equal before magic.”
Such a lofty ideal remains just that—an ideal.
In reality, I have no choice but to live here, shrinking under the weight of this thorny environment.
…Still, there are several reasons why I continue to study magic at this academy.
One of them is—
“Sorry I’m late!”
It’s her.
Right at the moment “Home” is about to begin.
The only student who arrives even later than me, who barely makes it on time.
Fia Carat.
My classmate who sits next to me, and the only person in this academy I consider a friend.
And though I didn’t know it at the time—
She is the princess of this country, known as its treasure.
Stellafia Magipastel herself.
