Slacking Professionally at Tracen [226]

The veteran Trainers had cautioned her again and again about the danger of Kitahara.

But unfortunately, until the very end, Kiryuin Aoi hadn’t taken their warnings to heart.

Her reason was straightforward: ever since arriving at Tracen, everywhere Kiryuin looked, things felt distinctly off.

Even ignoring the inexplicable hostility aimed at her, just the bizarre rules and the pale-faced Trainers behaving oddly around campus were enough to leave her uneasy and confused.

Given all this, the only person around her who seemed even remotely normal was Kitahara-senpai himself.

Yet now, the veteran Trainers were insisting that she stay away from Kitahara…

Compared to those cryptic elders who spoke in riddles and kept secrets, Kiryuin found Kitahara far more trustworthy.

Thus, in the days that followed, while most of the other rookie Trainers—particularly the guys—heeded the warnings and kept their distance from Kitahara, Kiryuin remained skeptical of everyone else and found herself interacting exclusively with him. Although she wasn’t exactly clingy, their interactions gradually grew closer.

But strangely enough, Kiryuin began sensing that the hostile gazes aimed at her were increasing along with their closeness.

Very peculiar.

Time passed, carrying Kiryuin’s confusion along with it.

Since the school year had started in mid-January, and most Umamusume races clustered around April onward, nobody in Kitahara’s team had any upcoming races. Instead, they busied themselves catching up academically.

After all, aside from racing and training, Umamusume were still students, and their studies couldn’t be neglected.

Last year’s latter half had been packed with competitions; now, with some breathing room, academics naturally took priority.

As for the underground rivalries, Kitahara had lit enough fuses that paradoxically, the tension balanced itself out. Anyone wanting to stir trouble—like Sirius and Rudolf, currently locked in a standoff within the Student Council—found themselves swiftly restrained by others.

Most Umamusume were tied down, unable to act.

But a select few, due to unique circumstances, slipped under everyone’s radar and continued sneaking forward unnoticed.

For instance, Sunday Silence.

As the only ghost Umamusume, her inherent invisibility became her ultimate asset for sneaking. While everyone else remained tangled in mutual interference, she simply avoided Cafe’s sight, freely slipping off to harass Kitahara.

Though she often got brushed aside disdainfully by him, her shameless persistence wore Kitahara down. Gradually, he grew used to her antics, and the number of times he chased her away decreased significantly—though maybe he’d just become numb to it all and stopped bothering.

But in any case, during this deceptively peaceful period, Sunday Silence had made remarkable progress in sneaking, arguably topping the charts.

And where there’s a first place, naturally there’s a second.

Similar to Sunday Silence, the runner-up managed her stealth largely because others overlooked her.

However, unlike Sunday Silence—who was literally invisible—this Umamusume went unnoticed simply because nobody considered her a threat.

After all, her name was Agnes Digital, widely recognized as the campus pervert.

Given her infamous reputation and her outward restraint around others, very few knew Agnes Digital was interested in Kitahara at all. Even those who did know had found out only because Digital had slipped up herself, and since they hadn’t spread the word, she achieved a sort of psychological invisibility.

Yet mere oversight wouldn’t earn her second place.

As previously mentioned, Agnes Digital was usually quite restrained—even obedient—in her dealings with Kitahara. Without any special reason, she’d content herself with minor touches, never daring to push boundaries.

But a problem arose last year-end, when a certain pure-white Umamusume with pink eyes shared troubling information with Digital.

Out of concern for Kitahara’s safety, Digital took action. Progress was made, to the extent that Kitahara became accustomed to her touch—even occasionally rewarding her privately.

Such a level of intimacy would’ve normally satisfied Digital. But according to the white Umamusume, this level of closeness wasn’t nearly enough to guarantee Kitahara’s safety.

Therefore, despite already exceeding her original expectations, Digital had no plans to slow down. Not only would she accelerate her sneaking, she intended to drag others into it too.

Such as Neicha, currently third on the stealth leaderboard.

As one of the few who had openly confessed to Kitahara, Neicha had become increasingly skilled at sneaking after overcoming initial embarrassment.

Previously, surveillance from various factions had hindered her. But ever since Digital approached her, confiding the troubling news from the white Umamusume, Neicha’s stealth had significantly improved with Digital’s help.

Though her level still lagged behind the top two, compared to other Umamusume, she had done remarkably well.

As for those ranked beneath Neicha, their progress was minor enough to be negligible.

Kitahara himself noticed none of this.

After what he perceived as a peaceful January, Kitahara remained blissfully oblivious. Seeing the calendar thin out on his wall and the days toward his retirement shrinking, he even felt a little happy.

Clock in, slack off after work, occasionally mentor rookies, spend free time on his own interests—rather than dedicating every waking moment to his Umamusume and struggling to maintain appropriate distance…

Now this was how a proper Trainer should live.

As for those who confessed to him?

They were just kids acting impulsively, perfectly normal behavior.

Once they matured and cooled down, they’d realize it was just simple admiration toward a good teacher, having nothing to do with romantic feelings or relationships…

“Then, do you even know what ‘love’ is yourself?”

A certain dark-haired rice-ball suddenly asked.

Kitahara paused, momentarily stunned into thought.

Honestly, he’d often accused others of not understanding feelings, but upon reflection, he realized he wasn’t exactly an expert himself.

Since reincarnating, despite meeting plenty of girls, he’d never dated anyone. His romantic experience wasn’t just sparse—it was essentially nonexistent.

And before reincarnating…

Forget love, he hadn’t even made it to his tenth birthday. Romance was utterly out of the question.

Yet despite lacking confidence in his romantic expertise, Kitahara hesitated to openly admit it. Knowing Eclipse, admitting ignorance might provoke her into saying something outrageous like, “Then allow me to teach you what ‘love’ truly means,” before immediately pinning him down.

Thus, after careful consideration, Kitahara braced himself and spoke.

“Love, huh…? Isn’t it obvious? It’s about…um…being there for each other, dependence, Uma-Pyoi’ng…something like that?”

His voice gradually trailed off, losing confidence by the word.

Fortunately, just as Kitahara faltered, struggling to find the next words, someone abruptly pushed open his dormitory door, conveniently shifting the conversation elsewhere.

“Hayakawa-san? What brings you here? Did Tachyon cause trouble again?”

“She certainly pulled another stunt—selling some kind of potion claimed to ‘deepen bonds,’ and now nearly double-digit Trainers have gone missing…”

Hayakawa seated herself opposite Kitahara, meeting his eyes calmly.

“I’ll handle her shortly in the lab, but today I’m here about something else.”

Something else?

Before Kitahara could voice his confusion, Hayakawa pulled out her phone, opened a file, and turned the screen toward him.

“This.”

Kitahara accepted the phone curiously. As he skimmed its contents, his expression shifted subtly.

This is…

“Clearly a deliberate, coordinated attempt to smear your reputation, Trainer Kitahara,” Hayakawa said bluntly.

Kitahara nodded slowly, continuing to scroll through the file’s contents.

The documents Hayakawa showed him resembled the smear articles Sirius had presented to him during their matchmaking meeting. But unlike the earlier minor harassment, these articles were more sophisticated, penned by influential writers, and carried significantly more weight.

Moreover, instead of random accusations easily dismissed as fabricated nonsense, this time the attackers shared an eerily unified message.

Aware that Kitahara’s professional abilities were beyond reproach, they instead targeted his character—not by alleging inappropriate relationships with students, but by portraying him as a ruthless Trainer who disregarded his Umamusume’s well-being for the sake of victory.

As “evidence,” they combed the Tracen forums for self-mocking jokes he’d made, blamed him for Silence Suzuka’s fracture, and even accused him of forcing his team to skip New Year’s holidays for rigorous training.

Ridiculous, really.

Kitahara inwardly scoffed as he continued browsing, but soon noticed something else beyond mere personal attacks.

One article subtly implied—without explicitly stating—that Tracen’s administration knowingly overlooked his methods to maintain its competitive dominance.

This insinuation wasn’t isolated. Among the flood of personal criticisms, several pieces hinted that Tracen’s higher-ups tacitly condoned, even collaborated with him. Some even suggested Kitahara wasn’t a lone Trainer at all, but rather a puppet figurehead manufactured by an entire hidden team, all to sustain Tracen’s supremacy.

Well, this is turning troublesome…

Tapping his finger thoughtfully on the desk, Kitahara’s eyes skimmed through the remaining articles until one final entry caught his attention.

This one was…

Perhaps sensing Kitahara’s reaction—or maybe just curious—Eclipse leaned closer, trying to see exactly what he was looking at.

But to her surprise, just as she craned her neck, Kitahara suddenly clicked off the screen and handed the phone back to Hayakawa.

“All right, Hayakawa-san, I get the gist of it. Did the Chairwoman say anything?”

“When I left, she was still fuming in her office,” Hayakawa replied evenly. “It’ll probably be a while before she calms down enough to give us a decision.”

She tucked the phone away and turned her gaze back to Kitahara.

“My main reason for coming here was to inform you of the situation. Also, I wanted to ask if you have any idea who’s behind these attacks—or at least some suspects if you’re not sure.”

“Suspects, huh…”

Kitahara tapped his finger on the table thoughtfully, recalling the information he’d previously received.

“Actually, I do have some suspicions. And truthfully, Hayakawa-san, I probably knew about this even earlier than you. Back at the start of the year, Sirius-san showed me something similar…”

“…Then why didn’t you tell me or the Chairwoman?”

“There wasn’t any point,” Kitahara shook his head lightly. “At that time, their attacks were scattered and insignificant, hardly worth reporting.”

His expression slowly grew serious as he thought back to the articles he’d just browsed.

“As for right now…Hayakawa-san, there’s something I’d like you to do.”

“What is it?”

“I’d like to ask that neither you, nor the Chairwoman—nor anyone from Tracen—interfere in this matter. Don’t attempt any clarifications or defenses on my behalf.”

Kitahara’s voice was firm.

If it had been anyone else sitting across from him, such an unusual request might’ve prompted immediate confusion and a barrage of questions. But Hayakawa only frowned briefly before speaking again.

“Trainer Kitahara, do you have something planned?”

“Somewhat,” Kitahara nodded. “But I can’t share the details just yet.”

Hayakawa considered this briefly, then nodded herself.

“All right. I trust your judgment. But if anything seems off, or if you run into trouble, please contact me directly.”

“Definitely,” Kitahara agreed immediately.

They talked a bit more, and once enough time had passed for the Chairwoman to presumably cool off, Hayakawa excused herself to return and report.

After she’d left, Kitahara opened his phone again, eyes narrowing as he glanced through his recent conversations with Kudou-san.

So it’s the Black Market again…

But what are they after this time…?

Actually, Kudou had already informed Kitahara near the end of January that these latest smear attacks were clearly orchestrated by members of the Black Market. This matched earlier intel about certain elements in the Market targeting him.

Yet even though they’d confirmed the Market’s involvement, Kudou had no clue what these people intended or their ultimate goal.

The one thing Kudou was certain of, however, was that their motive couldn’t possibly be just to smear Kitahara.

From what Kudou had learned, the current Black Market was essentially one giant Kitahara fan club. Far from slandering him, these people would eagerly argue with anyone who tried.

Could their real aim be Tracen? Or was there some even deeper agenda at play?

Kitahara wasn’t sure.

But he knew one thing clearly: this was an excellent opportunity to bait them out.

After all, if these people intended to escalate their attacks, sooner or later they’d have to connect with the anti-Kitahara factions already entrenched in Tracen. And when that happened, it might just give him the opening he needed to uncover something useful.

As for whether allowing these smears to spread might damage his reputation…

Are you kidding? He’d be thrilled if they smeared him even harder.

If it wasn’t already obvious that he wasn’t the actual target, forget investigating—he’d probably have joined their ranks himself, becoming the most vocal Kitahara critic around.

However, while this whole mess had significantly improved Kitahara’s mood, the next bit of news instantly made his head ache again.

Glancing down at the messages flashing across his phone, Kitahara rubbed the bridge of his nose, heaving a sigh.

“Figures. All those little troublemakers are gunning for the Classic Triple Crown, huh…”

—

T/N: uhhhhhhhhhh i was gonna say something here

This is a fan translation of 人在特雷森，专职摆烂 by 多功能复读机 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!