Chapter 13
The attic has no curtains, so the morning sunlight shines straight into the room.
Upon waking, Monica took the coffee pot out of her luggage before even making herself presentable.
When Monica left the mountain lodge, the only things she packed in her luggage were a coffee pot, a grinder, coffee beans, and the black cat Nero. Having lived without interacting with people, Monica had few possessions that mattered to her.
Monica activated chantless magic and filled the coffee pot with drinking water.
It was said that water purified with magic contained a small amount of magical power and was therefore unsuitable for drinking. The human body could not store very much magical power, so consuming large amounts of water containing it would cause magical poisoning. That was why Monica usually drew water from a well.
Even so, a small amount should not cause any problems. As one of the Seven Sages, Monica had a greater capacity for magical power than an ordinary person. She would not suffer magical poisoning so easily.
Monica poured the purified water into the pot, ground the coffee beans with the grinder, and set the grounds in the pot.
She then took out a small iron tripod, placed the pot on it, and started a fire with chantless magic.
Even this tiny fire had to maintain a constant heat and position, so it required intricate formulas and precise control.
Nero, who had been rolling around on the bed in the form of a black cat, looked at Monica in exasperation.
"That's way too much technical skill to waste on a single cup of coffee, isn't it?"
"B-but... I can't exactly use the kitchen without permission..."
Monica made her excuse in a small voice and poured the coffee from the pot into a cup.
The hot, bitter coffee running over her tongue jolted Monica's mind wide awake.
Suddenly, the words of her late father came to mind.
──First, try stripping away everything unnecessary. Then the number left behind will be quite simple.
(...What does 'unnecessary' mean?)
For example, morning coffee was by no means unnecessary to Monica. It was something important to her. But to someone who disliked coffee, it would probably seem unnecessary.
(...If it were a formula, I'd know the answer right away.)
How difficult it was to find the "unnecessary" in a person's heart.
As Monica gently blew on her coffee, she glanced at the ribbon and nuts still sitting on the desk.
Until now, Monica had never cared about her hairstyle. The Monica she had been until now could have confidently declared a ribbon to be something unnecessary.
The same went for the nuts. Monica had little interest in eating, so if there were no nuts, she would simply have skipped lunch and thought, Oh well.
Monica picked up the nuts from the desk and nibbled on them. She usually ate without tasting her food, but for some reason she felt like eating these with care, so she savored them properly before swallowing.
"...Hey, Nero... what's something that isn't unnecessary to you?"
"Oh? What's this? A philosophical question out of nowhere? ...I'm pretty smart and cool for knowing the word 'philosophical,' aren't I? Praise me!"
"...Yeah, yeah. Amazing, amazing."
When Monica praised him halfheartedly, Nero pointed sharply at her with the paw pad of his right foreleg and said, "That's it!"
"Your praise is one thing I don't consider unnecessary. So praise me more! Sing my praises! If you want, compose a ballad, write a novel, paint a portrait, and pass my glory down to future generations!"
The last part was quite an unreasonable demand, but Monica was a little happy to learn that her praise was not unnecessary to Nero.
"...I see. I see..."
"Also, it's good to enjoy the unnecessary... Dustin Gunter wrote in one of his novels, 'Life is full of unnecessary things. So why don't we enjoy those unnecessary things to the fullest?'"
For Monica, who had always struggled simply to survive, enjoying the unnecessary was a rather difficult challenge.
Even so...
"I-I'll... try."
Saying that, Monica picked up the ribbon from the desk.
──The more difficult the challenge, the more enjoyable it is, Monica.
Her father's words from long ago gently came back to life within her.
＊ ＊ ＊
Lana Colette sat in her seat, flipping through a thin booklet with her cheek resting on one hand. Her hairstyle and hair ornament were different from what Monica had seen yesterday.
Seeing Lana there, Monica steeled her trembling legs and approached her.
"Ah...! U-um..."
"...What?"
Lana kept her face turned toward the booklet and looked at Monica only with her eyes. Those eyes suddenly widened in shock.
"What on earth is that hair?!"
Monica's hairstyle was neither the one Lana had done for her yesterday nor her usual pigtails.
It was an avant-garde style in which the hair at the crown of her head had been puffed up unnaturally, with two pigtails forcibly fastened to it.
"I-I wanted to do it the way you did yesterday..."
"Your plain pigtails would have been better!!"
"........Ahh."
After Lana yelled at her, Monica pulled the ribbon with the attached pin from her pocket and held it out to Lana.
"...This... um... th-thank you... for yesterday..."
Recalling the practice she had done with Nero the day before, Monica thanked her in a feeble voice.
Her voice had ended up sounding like she was on the verge of death, but she had managed to say it all the way to the end.
However, when Lana saw the ribbon Monica held out, she snorted and turned away.
"I don't need it. That style isn't fashionable anymore."
Lana's curt attitude clearly rejected any further conversation.
The usual Monica would have meekly retreated at this point.
But Monica held her ground and desperately squeezed the words out of her throat.
"...C-c-could you t-teach me how you did it y-yesterday...?"
She had stumbled over her words.
With her ears bright red and her head bowed, Monica failed to notice.
Lana's lips were twitching at the corners as though she were holding back laughter.
"I-I suppose it can't be helped! Here, sit down over there."
Lana said this haughtily and jerked her chin toward a spot.
Monica brought over her own chair as instructed and sat down neatly. Lana quickly undid Monica's hair.
"Honestly, what kind of technique would turn hair into such a bizarre style? I can't believe it! Hey, do you have a comb?"
"N-no..."
When Monica answered in a weak voice, Lana gave her hair a sharp tug.
"...And you still had the nerve to say you wanted me to teach you?"
"I-I-I’m s-sorry!"
Lana snorted in exasperation and took out her own comb. The silverwork comb had delicate openwork and, on closer inspection, tiny gems set throughout it.
"Until a little while ago, gold combs with large gemstones were fashionable, but the current trend is definitely this style. It's cute to scatter smaller gems modestly throughout. Artisans from the Anmel region are particularly skilled, so if you're buying a first-rate piece, you should choose one made in Anmel..."
For some reason, Lana stopped talking there and began combing Monica's hair in silence.
As Monica wondered why she had suddenly fallen quiet, Lana murmured in a voice so small that only Monica could hear.
"...My stories are boring, aren't they?"
At the somewhat sullen murmur, Monica widened her eyes and looked up at Lana behind her.
Lana's lips were twisted into a frown, and she wore an oddly wounded expression.
"...We're nouveau riche, after all. You think my stories are vulgar and not worth listening to, too, don't you?"
"U-um... well..."
Monica fidgeted pointlessly with her hands while desperately trying to make her mouth move.
"I-I get told my stories are boring, too... b-because I only ever talk about numbers..."
When the subject turned to numbers or formulas, Monica could talk endlessly. Once she started, she forgot to watch the other person's reaction and rambled on and on.
Because of that, Lewis Miller had knocked her flat more than once. That beautiful mage would slap Monica across the cheek without mercy and say with a smile, "My fellow peer, have you returned to being human?"
As Monica shuddered at the memory, Lana let out a small snort of laughter.
"What is that? How strange."
"S-strange...?"
"It is strange. Now face forward."
Lana divided Monica's hair into two sections and quickly braided it. Apparently, the key to making braids cute was to loosen them slightly. She then crossed the loosened braids over each other, hid the ends, and secured them with pins. That completed the style.
"There. Done. Something this simple is easy."
"A-amazing... So fast... Is the important part the angle of the pins? ...No, it's also the position of the braids and how much hair is divided between them..."
"You don't learn things like this with numbers. You learn them with your hands. Your hands. Here, undo it once and try doing it yourself."
At Lana's words, Monica's eyes flew open, and she cried out in a shrill, strangled voice.
"What?! It looks so beautiful... Y-you want me to undo it...?"
Lana seemed pleased by the words It looks so beautiful, and her lips twitched. But she cleared her throat with an older-sister-like expression and looked down at Monica.
"You won't remember unless you do it yourself. If you fail, I'll do it for you at the end. Now, give it a try."
"Ugh... It's like taking apart a completed, beautiful formula and writing nonsense into it..."
"What kind of analogy is that...?"
Just as Lana laughed, half exasperated and half secretly pleased, the classroom suddenly began to stir.
It was still too early for the teacher to arrive. Wondering what was going on, Monica looked toward the center of the commotion and saw a male student standing there.
He was a slender male student with long platinum-blond hair tied back in a single ponytail. Each step he took caused the female students in particular to grow excited.
Behind Monica, Lana murmured.
"That's Cyril Ashley-sama, the vice president of the student council. Why is he in our class...?"
As vice president of the student council, he was the closest aide to the Second Prince. But as far as Monica knew, there were not supposed to be any student council officers in this class.
A prickling atmosphere hung around Cyril. It was not merely a vague impression; faint magical power was seeping out of him. And it was probably the power of ice.
(...Could he be someone born with a large amount of magical power? Is he letting it leak out intentionally? Or is he simply unable to control it?)
As Monica wondered about this, Cyril stepped up to the teacher's platform and announced in a quiet but resonant voice,
"Is there a female student named Monica Norton in this class?"
The gazes of all her classmates instantly focused on Monica.
Monica reflexively crawled under her desk. If possible, she wanted to crawl beneath Lana's skirt and hide there. Realizing that would obviously be wrong, she searched for somewhere else to hide, but Lana hurriedly grabbed her by the arm.
"Hey, idiot, what are you doing?! The vice president is calling for you!"
"I-I-I'm not here! Um, I'm out! I'm out today!"
Monica clung to one of the desk legs and babbled meaningless things with tears in her eyes. Cyril strode over to her and glared down. He was frightening. He was frightening, but if this had been Lewis Miller, he would probably have kicked the desk aside and hammered his fist into Monica's head. He absolutely would have. Compared to that, this was somewhat better... probably.
"Are you Monica Norton?"
"........Y-yes."
When Monica answered while sniffling, Cyril drew his brows together in displeasure.
"I don't understand. Why would that person... choose such a little girl...?"
Muttering bitterly, Cyril gave a light cough and glared at Monica.
"Come with me."
"U-um, but c-class is about to..."
"Are you defying me?"
Because Monica was helpless against domineering behavior, she trembled violently as she obeyed Cyril and followed him... while crawling beneath her desk and dragging it along with her.
After they had gone a few steps, Cyril shouted,
"Why are you following me while still under the desk?!"
"B-because you're s-scary..."
"Leave the desk behind!"
"Eek! I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
Monica bobbed her head as she apologized, returned the desk to its original position, and then wrapped herself in the curtain.
Both Cyril and her classmates stared at the scene in stunned silence. Eventually, Cyril yanked the curtain off and dragged Monica out.
"You little fool! Why are you hiding in the curtain?!"
"I-I thought maybe I could get away with pretending nothing happened..."
"Don't be ridiculous!"
Cyril rapidly chanted a spell. Merely hearing the incantation was enough for Monica to understand the spell's formula.
(This magic is...)
With Monica's chantless magic, she could immediately activate a counterspell. If she wanted to, she could even attack before Cyril's spell was activated.
But if she did that, her true identity would be exposed.
Cyril snapped his fingers. An ice chain extended from the tip of his index finger and wrapped around Monica's wrist. After circling her wrist once, the end of the chain transformed into a shackle.
It was ice magic intended to restrain her. If Monica resisted, the ice would probably spread from the shackle and freeze her at once.
After binding Monica with an icy shackle, Cyril wore a menacing smile. His dark blue eyes glittered with anger.
"Apparently, I was ordered to capture a rare beast... If it's a rare beast, using chains is only natural, wouldn't you say?"
Why did neither Lewis Miller nor Cyril Ashley treat Monica like a human being?
And so Monica was taken away by Cyril Ashley like some rare beast on display.