Chapter 89
When it was time to return to the dormitory after training, Lilith rose from the stump where she had been training.
Her clothes were stained with dirt, and parts were singed from the effects of her magic.
She wiped away the sweat flowing down her cheeks and staggered out along the forest path.
This grueling training would continue tomorrow, and the day after.
Compared to Eternia's geniuses, her talent was barely a handful.
So she had to be reborn day by day.
She would start clearing away insincere relationships one by one. They only consumed time.
The pleasure gained from others' gazes and attention was only momentary. If one became distracted by lazy pleasures, they’d inevitably pay a heavy price later.
She already knew this from one heartbreaking experience.
Even if someone appeared whom one wanted to help, they’d end up being treated like baggage, unable to do anything.
When something one truly wanted appeared, they’d lose the opportunity and have it taken by others.
Lost in thought while walking, she tripped on something and fell.
"Ouch..."
She struggled to her feet and picked up a Plantera remnant that had caught her foot. After discovering traces of someone's passage, she looked around.
About twenty paces away lay footprints, powdered tree bark, and scattered Plantera pieces.
Looking closely at what she had picked up, it wasn't magic. The joints had been cleanly dismantled.
She went to the battle site and checked carefully. It wasn't just one. Most of the dozen or so Planteras lying before her were the same.
"This..."
She knew one person who used such a unique sword style.
Lilith backtracked the faint human footprints in the dirt.
Could they still be nearby?
Her heart raced, and she started running until she was out of breath. Soon the sunset light filtered through the forest illuminated her face.
Following the traces for quite a while, the forest gave way to a small hill full of flowers.
She stopped at the forest's edge.
Her pupils gradually widened.
It was where she had met the Art Club students earlier.
***
In the carriage heading to the mansion.
Even the bumping that others might find uncomfortable gave Trisha a subtle thrill.
She took off her dress shoes in one spot in the carriage. She also took off her socks and threw them on the seat beside her. Though her shoes had turned over due to the carriage's shaking, she didn't mind.
Trisha hummed, making up songs with random words that came to mind. While doing so, she poked Damian's shins with her bare feet as he sat across from her.
Whether she did that or not, Damian was lost in thought watching the evening sunset.
He didn't mind such minor stimulation. Sometimes it was like looking at a tree that has endured in one place for decades rather than a person.
Thanks to that steadiness, Trisha could show her true self to Damian. If Damian had been as mercurial as herself, they probably would have had difficulty becoming friends.
Though his occasional complete indifference was a flaw, making him forget even what he had said.
"Dami-Damian. Damian is a dummy who doesn't even remember what he said."
Seeing his flustered appearance was also a unique pleasure. Of course, he shouldn't be swayed by others. It only had meaning if he was swayed by Trisha herself.
"..."
Damian looked at Trisha with inscrutable eyes.
He calmly spoke to her, "Trisha."
"Yes, yes!"
"I have something to ask."
"Is there something you want to know about me?"
Damian's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Do you... ever come to hate the very existence of men?"
Trisha thought about the intent of the question for a moment and said, "Of course!"
"When?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yes."
"When they tell you you're pretty but don't remember it at all."
"..."
"Also, also, when they try to stroke my hair secretly at night like a pervert and then rudely deny it in the morning."
Damian turned his gaze back to the window without any change in expression.
After a few seconds of silence, he said, "That would make you hate them."
Having said it, she felt oddly hurt again and crossed her arms, snorting, "Hmph."
Even after kindly explaining the reason, that's all?
His current shameless attitude was subtly annoying too.
Trisha squirmed and moved diagonally from Damian, saying, "I don't want to talk to you."
Damian spoke shamelessly as if he hadn't heard, "Let me ask one more thing."
"..."
"I heard something today. There's an Art Club assignment called 'Drawing a Friend’."
"..."
"Each member needs to invite a friend... so I need you. Could you come?"
As a friend, it was something she couldn't ignore. She squeezed her eyes shut once, then opened them and said sulkily, "...Where do I need to go tomorrow?"
"Not right away. I'll tell you after the joint class ends."
That meant waiting at least ten more days. Realizing she was being led by Damian, she burst out angrily.
"Then you could have told me later! Why tell me now!"
She grabbed her discarded socks and threw them at Damian.
He casually brushed off the socks that had landed on him and said, "Filthy. Clean it up."
"I only wore them briefly so they don't smell!!"
Trisha collapsed onto the carriage seat, stretching out her arms, drained of energy.
"So annoying..."
Damian spoke again, regardless of her reaction, "Trisha."
"What, what!"
"Have you read a book called 'The Canary and the Jester'?"
"Yes."
Damian's voice became quite serious, "Tell me what it's about. It's important."
Trisha glanced at Damian's face and answered curtly, "It's about a mute princess traveling with a jester. Want to hear more?"
Damian nodded.
"Thanks to the jester's foolishness, the princess regains her laughter, and eventually her speech is healed. But I hate that story."
"Why?"
"After the princess is healed, the jester leaves to wander, and the princess ends up marrying a prince. What's that about, she should marry the jester."
Trisha glanced at Damian again.
"But why ask about that?"
He didn't answer.
***
"Not today."
After finishing a simple meal at the mansion, Damian stopped Trisha as she subtly tried to enter his room together.
She opened her eyes wide and asked, "Why?"
"I have something I need to do alone."
"I'll just lie down and won't disturb you?"
He shook his head.
What could he need to do alone? It didn't seem like he was making up a story. Damian had been preoccupied with something all day since the carriage.
It seemed he wouldn't let her in even if she begged and threw a tantrum.
"What is it? Can't I help?"
"No."
When he cut her off firmly, Trisha said with a disappointed expression, "What are you hiding from me? Can't you share it with me? I'm your friend."
It hurt somewhat that he was intensely focused on something alone without saying anything.
Damian shook his head.
Could it be about the play he asked about earlier? Could he be interested in theater?
He went into his room and closed the door before Trisha could ask any further questions.
She walked back down the corridor with slumped shoulders.
***
Damian entered his room, leaning against the door for a moment.
He thought about Luna.
He imagined what Luna, who had closed her heart, would lose in her future life.
Since she disliked nearly half of Eternia's people, she wouldn't even be given chances for normal meetings. Because of that, she also wouldn't gain sweet memories with the opposite sex.
Damian liked Eternia's vitality. Walking around campus, one could always hear laughter from somewhere. There was power there to shake off worries.
And the more he faced that bright vitality, the more it contrasted with Luna's form groaning in the shadows, cutting into Damian's heart.
Damian believed Luna's laughter should be among those sounds too.
He thought about that play Luna reportedly read when she woke up—The Canary and the Jester.
Living trapped by trauma is extremely painful, but there were also people who didn't want to escape from it. No one could help such people.
What he wanted to know was simple.
Whether Luna had the will to change.
Whether she had the will to grasp an extended hand.
And just from what he heard today, he had his answer.
Damian was willing to become the jester.
He now knew well what he needed to do.
The only remaining clue.
The alchemist who had been captured by the Dark Mage and turned into a ghoul.
Records left by someone connected to the Dark Mage.
It was decoding Zverev's research text.
Desperately hoping it contained information about the “Black Spirit”.
Damian went straight to the bed.
He lifted one floor tile under the bed and took out Zverev's research records hidden underneath.
Then, sitting at the desk, he opened the book. A total of 4 recipes. And the first was the Griffin Potion.
The first was written in the continent's common language, so there wasn't much difficulty in decoding it.
The problem was what came next. The second was more of a travelogue or essay format rather than a single recipe, with parts in common language and parts in an unknown language.
The 3rd and 4th were entirely in unknown languages and hieroglyphs, so it would take a long time to interpret them.
There was also a reason he couldn't entrust the interpretation of this research to anyone else.
Damian checked again the warning written in the first chapter of the second recipe.
[...By the time these recipes fall into someone else's hands, I will probably be dead. Recipes are everything to an alchemist, and losing them means death.]
[Whether you become a Magic Academy investigator or a thief, I want to advise the next owner of these recipes. These are not for public benefit. Be extremely careful when sharing recipes. If you can't handle them, burn them. Though I recommend burning them, if you can't, you must monopolize them. Someone's desires might burn you alive instead of the recipes.]