My Class List Is Full of Monster Girls - Chapter 57

Chapter 57: Are These Two Chuunibyou About to Click?
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Translation by: Weebsread👹
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“No wonder the Vice President said we should thank you.”
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Only now did Elena finally piece it together.
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“So we got dragged into their mess for no reason?” she muttered, uneasy.
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“Maybe.” Rhode shrugged, utterly unconcerned.
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He didn’t care in the slightest.
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To Rhode, all these petty power struggles were just background noise. In the end, only strength mattered.
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Those who truly want to hurt you never need a reason. If you want to avoid trouble, a fist is worth more than a thousand words—talk is just wind.
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While they exchanged thoughts in the Mindspace, Milan and the others had already stepped out through the Adventurer’s Guild’s front doors.
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“Behold! My valiant comrades! For justice and glory, let us ride forth together!”
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The moment they emerged, Don Quixote—barely restraining herself until now—burst out with a triumphant cry.
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Rhode followed her voice and saw a carriage waiting nearby, clearly prepared for Milan’s group—likely a courtesy from the Vice President.
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“Esteemed sirs and ladies, who will be driving—?” The coachman, reins in hand, began to ask, but trailed off as Don Quixote bounded up, her energy impossible to ignore.
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“Of course, it shall be I!” Don Quixote proclaimed, thrusting both hands skyward.
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“Er—” The coachman instinctively looked to Rhode, who was right behind her.
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It wasn’t that the others couldn’t drive; but just by looking at them, none seemed the type. The lazy-looking mage in purple, the apologetic priestess in white—neither looked eager to take the reins. And as for Don Quixote...
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Staring at the hyperactive little knight in shining silver armor, the coachman hesitated.
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It wasn’t that he looked down on Don Quixote, but her size and exuberance made him worry she’d send the Guild’s carriage straight into a ditch.
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By comparison, only the deadpan ranger seemed remotely reliable.
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Rhode reached out and took the reins, and the coachman nearly sagged in relief.
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“Sir Ranger! Please, allow me to drive this chariot of justice!”
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Don Quixote zipped up to Rhode in a flash.
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Her oversized greatsword clanged against her armor with every bounce as she raised her hands high, eyes shining, fixed on Rhode’s grip.
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“Back in my homeland, I was a master of carriage driving! Even the wildest stallions bowed their heads before me!”
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“Alright.”
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With a flick of his wrist, Rhode handed the reins over.
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He wasn’t much of a driver himself—best to let the expert take over.
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The coachman began to sweat the moment he saw this. Instinctively, he reached out to stop her, terrified the reckless silver knight would drive the Guild’s carriage straight into disaster.
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“Uh, little miss—driving isn’t just for fun, you know,” he tried to warn her. “If you get hurt, it won’t be good for anyone—”
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He glanced at Milan, hoping the esteemed mage would intervene and put a stop to this madness.
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“No need. Just let her handle it.”
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Milan didn’t even bother looking up. Seeing Don Quixote confidently clutching the reins, she simply climbed into the carriage, found the softest cushion, and sprawled out in the most comfortable pose she could manage. She gave her wizard’s hat a lazy tug to block the sun, making it clear she had no objections to Don Quixote doing whatever she pleased.
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“Mhm~”
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Don Quixote, reins in hand, hopped onto the driver’s seat in a single, armored bound. The weighty silver armor seemed light as air as she nimbly flipped herself up.
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The two chestnut horses, who’d been pawing the ground and flicking their tails, instantly calmed the moment she took the reins. Their ears perked up, and one even whinnied affectionately at her.
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The coachman stared, mouth agape, too stunned to speak.
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“Hyah! Run, my noble steeds! Carry us through the mists, toward justice!”
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She snapped the reins with theatrical flair, her movements surprisingly practiced. As the carriage rolled forward, the pent-up knight instantly shifted into her long-suppressed, motor-mouth mode.
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“Ranger, Suzanna, you two—look at my flawless driving skills!”
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“That steady grip, that perfect arc! Ha! I can already see it—in the near future, I’ll be driving this war chariot straight through hordes of monsters, crushing their evil claws to dust beneath our wheels!”
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She babbled on, unstoppable, determined to make up for all the words she’d held back earlier.
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She’d nearly suffocated in that meeting room, forced to stay quiet for so long.
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“She’s as lively as ever, huh—” Elena sighed in the Mindspace.
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“Yeah.” Rhode agreed, then frowned. Wait a second—Don Quixote had actually been quiet today?
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On their way to the Adventurer’s Guild, she’d been bubbling with excitement, talking nonstop. Normally, she’d never have held her tongue in a group discussion.
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So why had she fallen silent the moment they entered the private room?
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Could it have been because of Milan?
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Rhode glanced sidelong at Milan. She was leaning against the window, one hand supporting her head, the other holding a parchment scroll, completely absorbed.
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That didn’t add up. Milan was right there, so she couldn’t have been the reason Don Quixote went quiet.
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Rhode pondered for a moment. Too many variables. Instead of guessing, why not just ask?
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With Don Quixote’s personality, she’d have no problem telling him the truth.
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With that in mind, he slid over, map in hand, to sit beside the driving Don Quixote.
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“Back at the Guild, why’d you suddenly clam up? Were you upset?”
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As soon as Rhode voiced his concern, Don Quixote lit up, immediately pouring out the grievance she’d been bottling up since morning:
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“Lady Milan said that if my chatter made her lose face in front of those annoying bastards, she’d—she’d hit me with Silence spells the entire trip!”
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No wonder the meeting had been filled with awkward silences. With Don Quixote’s personality, there was no way she’d let a conversation die like that.
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Turns out Milan had kept her in check with the threat of constant Silence spells.
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“Uuugh—” Don Quixote whimpered pitifully.
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“I want to share my noble knightly spirit with the world, but I can’t stand the agony of having my mouth magically stitched shut. That’s torture worse than being denied my adventure stories!”
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“So, I’ll just have to let those guys experience my knightly spirit next time.” She sighed. “They missed out on a lot.”
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No one wants to experience your ‘baptism,’ I’m sure—Elena couldn’t help but roast her in the Mindspace.
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“Yeah, what a shame.” Rhode nodded, sighing along.
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“What are you sighing for—” Elena shivered, suddenly remembering: wasn’t Rhode a chuunibyou too?
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And Don Quixote… definitely fit the symptoms he’d described.
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Wait, are these two chuunibyou really about to hit it off?!