Chapter 116
"Checkmate."
"...Ah."
At Roberto's move, Monica let out a small voice.
She looked at the board, then bowed her head. "I've lost." Beside her, Elliott gave her a malicious grin.
"You're off your game today, little squirrel."
"Ugh..."
When Monica drooped her shoulders, Benjamin, who had also been watching, spread his arms and said:
"Today's Miss Everett is visibly lacking her usual sparkle... No, it isn't sparkle she lacks, but concentration. Concentration is necessary in music as well as chess. Without concentration, no masterpiece can be created, and without concentration, no victory can be won."
Just as Benjamin said, Monica was having trouble concentrating today.
Her head felt hazy, and the slightest things kept catching her attention at odd moments. Even now, that was happening.
(Wait, what was I called here again...?)
As Monica pressed her fingers to her temples, Roberto, seated across from her, rearranged the chess pieces and spoke.
"Miss Monica, if you're not in form... let's have another game."
"Wha—!?"
Beside the startled Monica, Elliott narrowed his drooping eyes in exasperation.
"Wouldn't you just play chess another day if you're off your game?"
"When I am off my game, playing chess with single-minded focus calms my mind and puts me back in form."
"What kind of logic is that...?"
Elliott looked unable to understand, but Monica couldn't exactly say she failed to understand Roberto's reasoning.
"I kind of understand. When I'm off my game, solving math problems calms me down too... Lately, I've been thinking about the twin-prime problem..."
"There is some merit to that. When I am off my game, I immerse myself in music, become one with its world, and reconsider music itself. That is what restores me."
Elliott's face grew more and more strained, but no one present noticed.
"Chess. I achieve mental discipline through chess."
"It has already been proven that there are infinitely many prime numbers, but twin primes have not been proven yet..."
"That sublime moment of becoming one with music guides me to greater heights, toward the supreme tone..."
Listening to the chess fanatic, the math fanatic, and the music fanatic—in short, the Three Idiots—Elliott raked a hand through his bangs, looked up at the ceiling, and said, "Give me a break."
＊ ＊ ＊
As Monica headed back to the classroom after chess class, someone called out from the opposite side of the hall, "Hey, Monica!"
The person running toward her, waving both hands, was Glenn. Neil and Claudia were behind him as well. Apparently, all three of them had just come from Basic Magic Theory.
When Monica bowed and said hello, Glenn's eyes lit up as he said:
"The stuff Monica and Al studied with me came up in today's lesson, and I nailed it! Professor McLagan praised me like crazy and said, 'Maybe there'll be a storm today!'"
Behind the puffed-up Glenn, Claudia radiated a gloomy air while Neil smiled wryly.
"...What a wonderful compliment."
"Um, but Glenn really did work hard today! He didn't fall asleep even once...!"
"...Neil, you're good at complimenting people. By the way, aren't you going to praise me for taking the lesson seriously?"
"Er, um... um..."
Claudia clung to Neil's arm and pressed her cheek against it.
As Monica watched the two of them, thinking that they hadn't changed at all, Glenn spoke to her.
"Monica, thanks so much!"
"No, I'm glad I could help."
It made Monica genuinely happy to be able to help a friend in a field she was good at.
After all, she had been unable to help with studying for the Beginner Mage certification exam...
(...Huh?)
Monica voiced the question that had come to mind.
"Glenn-san, do you have your Beginner Mage certification?"
"Not yet. I'm really bad at written exams..."
"I see... Right."
Why had she gotten the idea that Glenn already had his Beginner Mage certification?
She really must have been off her game today.
As Monica held her head and groaned softly, a lively voice rang out through the hall.
"Monica! Glenn and the others, too—just in time!"
It was a bright, crisp voice with clear articulation.
Monica's heart leaped.
When she slowly turned toward the voice, she saw a girl with a ponytail walking toward them.
"Casey..."
Casey smiled cheerfully and held up the paper-wrapped bundle in her hands.
"I got some leftovers from the kitchen and baked biscuits. Why don't we all have some?"
Her lively, decidedly unladylike laugh, and everything else about her, was exactly the Casey Grove in Monica's memories.
For some reason, merely looking at Casey made Monica's chest tighten painfully.
"Monica!? What's wrong!?"
"Huh, ah..."
Casey peered anxiously into Monica's face.
Only then did Monica realize that she was crying.
Monica hurriedly wiped her eyes with her gloved hands. But the tears kept spilling out one after another, refusing to stop.
"Huh? Why am I...?"
"Did Miss Claudia say something to you?"
At Casey's words, Claudia gave her a sullen look.
"...How rude. Why am I the first person you thought of?"
"Well, given the company, I couldn't help it. Hey, Monica, are you all right? Maybe you're feeling sick? Should we go to the infirmary?"
Casey gently rubbed the sobbing Monica's back.
This kindness was no act. Casey was someone who could be kind to others as naturally as breathing—and Monica was surprised that she had thought so.
"I'm sorry. I'm all right..."
"Really? If so, that's good..."
Casey, Glenn, and Neil all looked at Monica with concern.
Monica reached into her pocket for a handkerchief. But what her fingers touched was not the soft feel of cloth, but something hard and flat.
Puzzled, she pulled it out. It was a wooden carving of a cat.
(Have I been carrying this around?)
Monica returned the wooden cat to her pocket and was wiping away her tears with her sleeve when Casey took out a handkerchief and wiped Monica's tears for her.
Casey's handkerchief was embroidered with yellow flowers.
"Thank you for the handkerchief, Casey."
As Monica thanked her for the handkerchief, she felt a strange sense of déjà vu.
She felt she'd thanked Casey for a handkerchief before—somewhere other than Serendia Academy.
"You're welcome."
Casey smiled as she said it, her usual caring, dependable self.
And yet, why did it make Monica want to cry so badly?
＊ ＊ ＊
(I'm definitely strange today...)
She had enjoyed a pleasant lunch with Isabelle, played chess to her heart's content in her elective class, and held a lively tea party while nibbling on the biscuits Casey had made... It had been a very happy day, yet a strange sense of urgency kept prickling painfully at her chest.
At this rate, she might make a mistake in the middle of her Student Council duties.
After school, standing before the Student Council room, Monica patted her cheeks and straightened her back.
If she spaced out again, Cyril would scold her.
"Okay. Good."
Monica nodded to herself and opened the door to the Student Council room.
It was still early, so almost none of the other officers had arrived. Felix alone sat in the Student Council president's seat at the very back.
"Hello, Monica."
"Hello, Ike."
After returning his greeting, Monica tilted her head at what she'd said.
(...Who is Ike?)
There shouldn't have been anyone she knew at Serendia Academy by that name.
Yet an inexplicable certainty remained in her heart.
(Ike, my friend.)
The person smiling gently before her was Felix Arc Ridill, the Second Prince of this country.
A prince perfect in every way, beloved by all.
"What is it, Monica?"
The flawless smile of the perfect prince made something stir uneasily in Monica's chest.
(That's right. Lately, Ike has only been smiling like that...)
Before she knew it, Monica's lips were moving of their own accord.
"...Are you troubled by something?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Can't I be of help?"
Felix looked at Monica with a hint of bewilderment.
Even as she wondered what she was saying, Monica couldn't stop.
Clenching her fist tightly and looking straight into his blue eyes, Monica said:
"P-Please rely on me! I... I'm your master and your friend, so... Ike!!"
It was the name of Monica's precious friend—a name that did not exist at Serendia Academy, yet certainly did exist.
The instant Monica clearly spoke that name, the world that had begun to fray collapsed completely.
Felix, the furniture, the room—everything that made up the world vanished without a sound, and the surroundings were dyed a darkness deeper than the night.
Monica did not notice the wooden cat glowing faintly inside her pocket.
The weak, fleeting light spread softly around her as though to protect her, enveloping her entire body.
──And Monica's consciousness awakened.
＊ ＊ ＊
...Nnh?"
Monica had been sleeping face-down on her desk. She rubbed her eyes and lifted her head.
When she looked around, she found herself not in Serendia Academy, but in the private room prepared for her inside Ausahorn Palace. It was pitch-black, and the flames in the candelabra had gone out.
Blinking, Monica replayed the unusually vivid dream in her mind.
...It had been a happy, bittersweet dream.
What Monica had been unable to do had come true in that dream world.
Having lunch with Isabelle.
A daily life with Casey.
They were modest things, but they were the little happinesses Monica had wished for. Upon waking, the sadness that followed the happiness slowly seeped into her chest.
Using magic without an incantation, Monica lit the candelabra and stretched lightly. Her joints ached from sleeping face-down on the desk.
Shaking her head to clear the dream's lingering haze, Monica went over what she had done.
(Let's see... I received the wooden cat from Carina, chatted with Tsetsilia-sama when she returned from the tea party at the detached palace, and stopped when it was time to eat...)
After standing guard over Tsetsilia-sama until she finished her meal, Monica exchanged guard duty with 〈Dream Mage〉 Kaspar Hütter.
Then she returned to this room, drank some hot milk, and was about to take a nap... That was where her memory cut off.
Monica touched the cup on the desk. The half-finished hot milk had gone completely cold.
(Did I fall asleep at my desk while drinking hot milk?)
When she had been working through the night, Monica had a bad habit of collapsing before reaching her bed and falling asleep on the floor or in a chair. She had lost count of how many times her self-appointed apprentice had carried her to bed.
But she had been getting plenty of sleep for the past few days.
(Something feels wrong.)
Monica picked up the staff leaning against the wall and left the room.
The hallway, already past bedtime, was dim, with the lights lowered almost completely.
Using that scant light, Monica hurried toward Tsetsilia-sama's room.
Panting heavily as she ran up the stairs, Monica's eyes flew wide in shock.
The palace guards were lying collapsed in the hallway leading to Tsetsilia-sama's room.
She rushed over to check on them. They had no visible injuries, and quiet, peaceful breathing could be heard. They were merely asleep—just as Monica had been moments ago.
(...No way.)
At the end of the hallway, the door to Tsetsilia-sama's room stood wide open.
Monica rushed inside and cried out:
"Tsetsilia-sama! Tsetsilia-sama!"
No one answered her shout, and Tsetsilia-sama was nowhere to be seen.
(Where could she possibly be...?)
The floor below Tsetsilia-sama's room held the servants' quarters.
As far as she could tell from what she'd seen on her way here, there had been no sign of anything amiss on the floor below.
If Tsetsilia-sama was still nearby, she was most likely on this floor—or possibly the one above.
Monica dashed out of the room and began running down the hallway again.