Chapter 13
‘N-no. Let’s calm down.’
Lucy calmly reconsidered Gilliam’s suggestion that they rest together.
‘…That’s what he meant, isn’t it?’
Then would a man and a woman really just rest together?
Lucy swallowed.
Her mouth suddenly felt itchy. What was she wearing down there right now?
Just then, a shrill riiing scraped at Lucy’s eardrums.
“Ah….”
Her excitement cooled.
“What was that?”
“The summons bell. Professor Praham’s… my advisor’s.”
Ganne Praham.
A newly appointed professor at the academy, and the person who drove Lucy to a death that was both suicide and murder in the original story.
“…She calls you in at this hour?”
Gilliam’s voice was tinged with anger.
It was anger on her behalf. Something warm welled up in Lucy’s chest again.
Even so, Lucy was making her habitual excuses.
“I-it must be urgent work.”
An excuse.
For all three months since she joined Professor Praham’s research group.
And if nothing changed, for however long it continued.
The excuse she would keep making to others, and more than anyone, to herself.
When she said that, everyone took the hint and stopped asking.
They assumed it must be hard for her to leave, that she had to put up with it for now.
“Really?”
But.
One oblivious young man refused to accept that excuse.
“Are you really so busy that you can’t manage without Lucy’s help?”
Because he knew.
That Professor Praham wasn’t that sort of person.
Lucy knew that, too.
But.
So.
“Then what am I supposed to do…!”
Once assigned, changing advisors was practically impossible.
Lucy had only two options.
Give up an academic career, or keep enduring under Professor Praham. Telling herself, Someday she’ll approve my thesis; someday she’ll let me graduate.
Unless Professor Praham suddenly retired or died, there was no way forward beyond those two—
“Then I’ll go in your place.”
“…?”
And before midnight that day.
Professor Praham was dismissed from her post for violating academic ethics.
“……Huh?”
The moment Lucy encountered Gilliam when he returned, she asked,
“H-how did you do it!?”
“I got her to admit she plagiarized.”
“No, I mean, how did you do that…!”
“Hmm….”
He thought for a moment, then said,
“By calling her an old lady?”
“What the hell does that even mean!!!!”
**
Professor Praham’s lab.
The scene of several grad students, their eyes already lifeless, being worked to the bone late into the night.
Praham was scolding them with her face twisted into a scowl, then shouted toward the approaching footsteps.
“You’re late! If you can’t come right away when I call, how can you do research… Who are you, student?”
A hysterical spinster in her forties.
That was Professor Ganne Praham in a nutshell.
“You’re Professor Ganne Praham, right?”
“I asked who you are. A freshman? Interested in mana physics?”
“Someone who knows that both your master’s and doctoral theses were plagiarized.”
Praham’s heart jolted.
“What on earth are you talking about!?”
Of course, both theses were plagiarized.
But Praham could never admit it. That would be tantamount to social suicide.
‘A battle of wits…!’
What information did the other side have, and what did they want by suddenly doing this?
A battle of wits, each probing the other’s desires and cards, trying to get what they wanted.
And there was a sure way to gain an advantage in this kind of fight.
Rattle the other person emotionally.
Make them angry and impair their ability to think.
That was Praham’s specialty.
“You think you can say whatever you want and get away with it just because you’re the young master of a ducal house…!”
On her desk sat a half-full glass of water. Praham flung its contents at Gilliam.
Splash! The sound of water.
“Dream on.”
Drip, drip.
The lukewarm, leftover water, filthy and smelling as if it had an old woman’s spit in it, ran down Gilliam’s body.
“This is the academy. Why don’t you let someone knock that stupid pride down a peg?”
It was an insult even an ordinary person would find hard to bear.
Let alone a young master from a lofty ducal house.
‘Heh.’
Praham smiled to herself.
‘Come on, go wild. Then I can immediately play the victim who got on the wrong side of a lunatic.’
A plagiarism accusation? Some lunatic had spouted lunatic nonsense. No need to respond.
But Gilliam wasn’t shaken by this.
‘Just as I thought, she’d do this.’
He already knew how rotten Praham’s character was.
A little academic talent and the ability to break people mentally. Those were what Praham had used to claw her way into a professorship.
This was a romance fantasy.
Losing your composure and showing your ugly side was practically social suicide in itself.
But Praham’s attack didn’t work on Gilliam.
On the contrary, Gilliam had an ultimate weapon capable of destroying Praham’s mental fortitude, cool-headedness, and composure.
One-hit kill.
The strongest and most vicious.
“Yes, old lady.”
“……………What?”
“I said I got it, old lady.”
The muscles in Praham’s face began to twitch grotesquely.
‘He’s holding out better than I expected.’
Gilliam wiped the water off his clothes and frowned as if he had vinegar on his nose.
“Ugh, you smell like a musty old lady.”
Praham let out a banshee-like scream and charged at Gilliam.
.
.
.
“And, well, one thing led to another, and eventually she confessed to everything.”
—Yeah!! I did steal that bitch’s thesis and use it!!! She should be grateful I let the work of a talentless nobody see the light of day!!
—Pla.gia.rist.old.lady.
—I’ll kill you!! I’ll kill youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!!
—Mur.der.ous.old.lady.
After hearing the whole conversation, Lucy didn’t know what to say.
So many emotions were swirling through her at once that she couldn’t decide what to say first.
Joy.
Disbelief.
Satisfaction.
The relief of never having to see that woman again.
Confusion.
Anxiety about what would happen from now on.
But unlike her mind, which couldn’t figure out what to say,
“…Thank you.”
The words her heart wanted to say came spilling out on their own.
Along with a single tear.
“Truly, sincerely, so very… thank you, boy.”
Lucy Merhantia had been freed.
“I-if there’s anything you want in return… I’ll do anything for you.”
“…Anything?”
“…Yes.”
Truly, anything.
Even the thing they hadn’t managed last night.
The ‘rest’ a man and a woman could have together.
“Then, for about three hours starting now.”
“Th-three hours…!?”
He wanted to do it for that long?
Weren’t men supposed to get tired after doing it once?
Her breathing grew ragged. Her mouth went bone-dry. Three hours. Wow, three whole hours? If they did it that long, wouldn’t she be completely dyed in the boy’s colors? A convenient woman who lived next door and could be called over anytime—
“Let me compliment you.”
“…………?”
——————
The faculty lounge was a tranquil space lined with potted plants.
But right now, every professor at the academy had gathered there for a serious discussion.
“It was one of the cadets, right?”
“Yes. Apparently, it was… taken care of by another cadet.”
Professor Orkh Gent, who taught Ancient Language, had suddenly died of a heart attack, despite having a chronic heart condition.
And Professor Ganne Praham, who taught mana physics, had disgracefully retired after her research misconduct was exposed.
‘If Praham, too, has effectively been… driven out of the academy….’
‘She made too many enemies.’
‘It won’t be easy for her to live in peace….’
The short female professor trembled.
“Th-that, that delinquent cadet, Gilliam Everchess… could he… be planning to kill all of us…?”
A heavy silence fell over the lounge.
“…Hmm.”
“…M-mmm.”
It was hard to argue that he wasn’t.
There were already two actual fatalities.
And one right after the other.
“If that’s true… why?”
“Gilliam was already famous as a delinquent, but I don’t think he was this kind of delinquent….”
“D-don’t tell me… he holds some kind of grudge against the academy…?”
Among the increasingly anxious professors, only one remained calm.
Kadisha Flareheart, who had taught Gilliam’s first class on his first day.
—Isn’t it true that you’re someone who won’t tolerate injustice, and wouldn’t give in even if asked to manipulate grades?”
‘Could those have been the words of someone who held a grudge against the academy itself?’
In Kadisha’s eyes, it seemed the other professors were all laboring under a strange misconception.
“Maybe Mr. Gilliam just doesn’t have any particular thoughts about it?”
Everyone’s attention turned to Kadisha.
“Maybe it was simply that Gilliam said something without thinking, and Orkh Gent happened to have a heart attack; and as for Praham… didn’t everyone know she pushed her research students far too hard?”
This was a world of romance fantasy, where speaking indirectly was a virtue.
Normally, Kadisha wouldn’t have been this blunt, either.
But with the situation heading in a strange direction, and the two people involved already beyond hearing anything anyone had to say, she’d just said it outright.
And perhaps.
A little.
—What could be more important than sincerity?
It wasn’t impossible that she’d been influenced by the look in Gilliam’s eyes as he stared straight into hers.
“…Flareheart, isn’t that too much of a coincidence, even so?”
“Exactly. Are you saying he just happened to kill two professors one after the other?”
The short professor counted on her fingers and said,
“O-on the first day of the semester, he provoked the Crown Prince’s faction; at noon on the second day, he killed one professor; then that evening, he broke another professor mentally and made her commit social suicide. You’re saying that was all a c-coincidence?”
“That’s….”
…Hmm.
Now that I hear it, it is kind of suspicious.
The dean, who had been quiet all along, spoke up.
“Anyway, Flareheart, are you saying you trust Everchess?”
“Well… to some extent…?”
“Then that works out perfectly.”
The dean smiled.
“Would you take charge of the group Everchess is assigned to on next week’s dungeon expedition? Professor Sillon was originally responsible, but as you can see…”
“Eek…!!”
The short professor, who seemed especially anxious, shrank back.
“Understood. I’ll take over for him.”
Kadisha sighed inwardly and thought,
‘I hope he doesn’t immediately shower me with compliments the moment we meet again.’
…Probably not.
It’s not like there’s that much to compliment about me.
But.
Kadisha found it hard to deny that she was looking forward to his compliments.