Chapter 15
Morgan had secretly asked the staff for leftovers—the dorm cafeteria’s uneaten food—and walked quietly across the academy grounds with it cradled in her arms.
“….”
Wrapping various foods in paper,
the red-haired witch carried them carefully against her chest.
She looked like a beggar returning after asking for alms. If the children of the Republic’s noble councilors… especially ‘that woman’ had seen her, they would surely have picked a fight.
Fortunately, no such confrontation happened.
Second day of the Sun’s Sabbath holiday.
There were hardly any cadets on the grounds. Only laughter from the distant Shopping District could be heard. Upperclassmen and classmates alike were all over there.
Morgan forced the corners of her mouth up into a sneer.
“….”
‘How long has it even been since we entered the academy? Those fools who are already eager to have fun are laughable. Why go through all the trouble of coming to the academy if that’s all they wanted? …Still, I guess it’s not bad that there’s no one around to laugh at me.’
“…Pathetic fools.”
Her voice trembled a little. But there was no one who could hear her.
Morgan walked across the grounds to the Department of Magic. She passed through the corridors of a new building flooded with spring sunlight, then headed toward a storage room in a corner of the old school building where it grew increasingly dark.
Clop, clop…
“….”
At last, she arrived.
Unlike the bright scenery of the academy,
it was gloomy.
It was like a secluded cave, full of cobwebs and dust.
It was Morgan’s own private workshop.
When Morgan saw the shabby door, she let out a sigh of relief. Her shoulders slackened, and she sank down in front of it.
“Phew, thank goodness….”
Thankfully,
she hadn’t run into anyone.
As her tension eased, her ears began to buzz. From beyond her consciousness, ‘horrible imaginings’ whispered to her.
-What are you, a sewer-cleaning slime? Why are you taking food someone already ate?
-Good heavens… Even commoners wouldn’t do something like that.
-The name Driach is wasted on her….
-Well, she used a fake name to get into the academy, after all.
-The name ‘Morgan’ is too good for that girl. Let’s just call her ‘Beggar Mori.’
-Ahahaha! That’s a good one!
-Beggar Mori.
[Beggar Mori.]
[You’re nothing.]
[You don’t have the money for ingredients, so you want to borrow some…? Do you not interact with other people at all?]
“…!”
Morgan squeezed her eyes shut at the absurdly vivid imaginings. Her head throbbed, and she felt like she was about to cry. Her reason and imagination clashed, making her nauseous.
“Ugh…?!”
‘Damn it, imagining things that haven’t even happened…!’
Don’t throw up.
If she went hungry again, she’d have to beg for food before dinner. The people coming back from the festival would really make fun of her.
She had suffered enough humiliation for a lifetime.
She knew how to avoid it now.
No.
Hold it in.
“Ugh…!”
Gulp—
“….”
Morgan forcibly swallowed the bile.
Along with the burning pain in her throat, the digested food flowed back down into her stomach. With both hands over her mouth, she looked around with tear-filled eyes.
Thankfully,
no one was there.
“….”
When she realized that,
“…Hic.”
Tears spilled from her eyes.
A pathetic hiccup escaped from behind her hands, still covering her mouth.
“Hic, hic.”
There was no one around.
She was alone.
If I disappeared from this world, no one would even know.
“….”
Morgan barely managed to stand on her trembling legs. Then she wiped her tears as if nothing had happened and mechanically went over the things she had to do today in her head.
Drip—
Her sadness vanished like mist, leaving emptiness in its place.
‘…First, I’ll rest for a little while and drink some water. Then I’ll write a letter volunteering as a test subject for the ‘Back-Alley Experiment,’ clean the alchemy cauldron so it doesn’t burn, and when the appointed date comes, wash myself with water drawn from the courtyard well and apply for the experiment….’
Earn money,
buy red herbs.
My body, for what it’s worth,
doesn’t matter if I offer it up.
Thanks to the Vow of Chastity,
the experiment is safe and reasonable.
My dignity will remain intact,
and I’ll be taking part in the experiment of ‘my own free will.’
‘…No one cares about me anyway. Who would care if this pathetic body picked up a few more stains from chemical side effects or a few more scars? All I need to study is one healthy hand.’
And hadn’t her arms already been scarred with wounds she’d inflicted herself? A single scratch on a magic catalyst cut its price in half, yet she could participate in experiments as ‘fresh material’ with a body covered in scars.
At this rate,
it seemed like a fairly reasonable decision.
“….”
She was selling her body as a tool for experiments, but somehow it felt like someone else’s problem, which made her feel strangely at ease. She was just getting up with a heart as cold and mechanical as a machine when—
Out of the corner of her eye,
she saw a patch of red on the ground in front of the workshop.
Red herbs, neatly bundled with golden thread.
Morgan paused, wondering if she’d seen wrong.
“?”
She set down the wrapped food and reached out to touch the red herbs.
She felt their vivid texture.
The herbs were a brighter red than her hair. Even after brushing her hair back, she could still see them. They weren’t the hallucinations she sometimes saw after her mother died.
Furthermore, beside the bundle of herbs was a note in elegant handwriting, tied with golden thread as well.
「A gift for a genius mage.」
“…?”
A sense of reality began to return to her dazed mind.
A tear rolled down from one of Morgan’s eyes. The storm in her heart began to rage again. But there was only one question in her mind.
“Who is it?”
‘I’m not someone worthy of receiving a gift from anyone….’
But,
more than anything,
she felt a sense of relief without even realizing it. It was the honest feeling she had kept hidden in a corner of her heart.
‘Ah… Thank goodness. I don’t have to go be a test subject now.’
“….”
The tears quietly streaming from Morgan’s eyes wouldn’t stop.
And the next day, and the day after that,
in front of her workshop, along with a note,
the other materials she wanted were neatly placed there.
Herbs, fruit, oil….
Just enough for her classes.
“….”
It was the first kindness she had ever received.
And so,
Morgan was afraid.
‘What on earth do they want from me…?’
*
Fifth day of the Sun’s Sabbath festival.
Although there were no classes at the academy, Lydia’s group continued their early-morning training. They had gathered at their usual clearing.
Arti was sparring with Mave, honing his feel for practical swordsmanship. Lydia and Aria watched silently from a corner.
The two wooden swords clashed with a lively sound.
Clack!
Clack!
Lydia watched them with satisfaction.
‘Normally, Arti would get tangled up and lose his sword within five exchanges, but he’s learned to feel the rhythm in just a few days. In the original, this was around when the tutorial ended, but now he’s become a proper swordsman.’
Arti now looked as if he’d reached the strength he wasn’t supposed to have for several more months. The difference was truly noticeable.
But he was still lacking, all the same.
During their endless exchange of attacks and defenses,
Mave finally found an opening.
“Ha! Country bumpkin! Your leg’s exposed!”
“Grrk—?!”
Mave slipped her leg between Arti’s as they faced each other with their swords raised, then hooked it and yanked. Arti’s stance crumpled, and he fell over.
Both of them had reached the realm of ‘Flow.’
Having taken mana into their bodies, the force behind their movements was on a completely different level from that of ordinary cadets. Arti rolled several meters away.
Crash—!
“Guh—?!”
“Hahaha!”
Mave approached the fallen Arti, looking smug.
“Country bumpkin, this is the level you and I are on.”
“Quit talking nonsense and give me a hand getting up.”
“Hehehe…! I’d be glad to.”
Mave smiled and held out her hand, but… Arti didn’t take it to get up. Instead, he yanked her down. Mave toppled over too with a pathetic cry.
“Kyaah—?!”
“Puhaha! Now we’re on the same level!”
“Y-you insolent country bumpkin…!”
The two of them tussled right there on the dirt, playing around with joint locks and the like. Pressed close together as they wrestled… they had the innocent air of country boys fooling around.
Lydia watched them and sighed.
‘The problem is that Mave’s a beautiful girl, too, so it somehow looks a little lewd. No, why has Arti suddenly started fooling around so unreservedly with a girl?’
During their intense (?) wrestling, the softness and suppleness of Mave’s body were on full display. It was strange that neither of them cared at all, too busy playing around.
“….”
In the original, this was the point where he’d freak out if he even touched one of the heroines’ hands.
‘Though, like a proper adult-game protagonist, he goes straight ahead after a lewd event.’
Mave shouted like a boy.
“Country bumpkin! Take this joint lock!”
“Gaaah! I’ll counter with a leg twist!”
“Ah?! You—! Where are you grabbing?!”
“It’s a swordsman’s duel!”
“Grr…!”
Lydia tilted her head.
‘A boy and a healthy, beautiful girl clutching each other and rolling around passionately… It sounds strange when I put it into words.’
Lydia glanced at Aria.
“….”
“….”
Aria’s expression had become complicated and subtle. Then she shook her head and sighed. There was a hint of resignation in that sigh.
“…Phew.”
“….”
Something.
She felt jealous, but,
it also seemed like an awkward situation to be jealous over.
Neither negative,
nor positive….
‘This is delicate. I’d better stop them for now.’
“Hmm.”
Lydia clapped her hands.
Clap, clap—!
“You two look like donkeys rolling around on the ground. That’s enough. Let’s call it a day.”
“!”
“!”
Mave and Arti, who had been nearly squeezing each other to death, awkwardly got to their feet. Then Mave belatedly realized what had happened and smacked Arti on the back.
Thump!
“Grr, you rude idiot.”
“Hmph. What about it?”
There was none of the subtle tension Lydia had been worried about.
Aria approached Arti, who was covered in dirt. She took hold of his sleeve and began wiping his face.
“…Hero, even so, you shouldn’t make a woman roll around on the ground.”
“I-I, uh… I’m sorry.”
Arti’s face turned bright red all the way to his ears, and he bowed his head.
He suddenly started sweating cold and fidgeting. The adult-game protagonist’s swagger from just moments ago, when he’d been grappling with Mave, vanished in an instant. Only an innocent country boy remained.
Only then did Lydia understand what was going on.
‘Has that guy stopped seeing anyone but Aria as a woman? Even though I was nudging them along, I didn’t expect it to happen this quickly.’
“…Huh.”
Since the entrance ceremony,
it had only been two months.
In the original, the tutorial had just ended, and the game was about to switch entirely to player control. Unless you’d pursued a special route or had inheritance points, this was also the point where you’d barely managed to make an impression on the heroines.
It really was far too fast.
Lydia thought back over all the changes so far.
‘Mostly, the change in Aria and Arti’s relationship….’
Aria had approached Arti of her own accord. The two had shared life-and-death experiences and become acutely aware of one another. They saw each other every morning, and during the festival they went on a date together.
The nobles and other heroines who interfered in that process were swiftly dealt with by Lydia. She skipped all the pointless humiliation events, and Arti was growing more confident.
“….”
Hmm.
Come to think of it, with the two of them already bound together as Hero and Saintess, getting this entangled was practically like threatening them at swordpoint to fall in love.
‘…I really did push the pure-love route pretty hard.’
As a result,
Aria had been wiping Arti’s face for more than five minutes.
“There’s a lot of dust on you.”
“Y-yes, there is. Thank you, Saintess.”
“You still look handsome, though.”
“…Thank you.”
“….”
“….”
Aria raised her eyes slightly and said,
“Hero, do you dislike it?”
“What?! No, of course not! If anything, I could stay like this…!”
“L-like this?”
“….”
“…?”
“It’s nothing.”
Thump-thump
Sweet and sour
Tingle, tingle
The two of them had created a space that even a Sword Master couldn’t intrude upon. And even when they hesitantly wanted to say something, they swallowed it back like a hiccup.
They couldn’t even define their own feelings.
“….”
“….”
Lydia watched them and came to a conclusion.
‘They became aware of each other and fell for each other so quickly that they’ve actually become overly cautious…. I tied them together too closely on the pure-love route, so their feelings have grown too big for the memories they’ve shared.’
Their feelings had overwhelmed their memories, and they’d lost their confidence. If she encouraged them by saying, ‘Confess. Your feelings are love,’ they’d only run away like cowards and drag things out.
And they’d come up with ridiculous excuses.
-My duty as a Saintess…!
-How could a commoner like me dare…!
It was adorable,
but a troublesome phase.
‘I should have nudged them along in moderation.’
But,
considering Morgan would soon be joining them, it might be better for the two to be so intensely aware of each other that there was no opening between them at all. Even if things moved a little slowly, this was better.
‘If they become a couple all of a sudden and regain their composure, they might waver when facing what lies ahead. Better to leave them be, like the earth hardening after rain.’
Rather than ‘a couple who got together in two months,’
wouldn’t ‘a couple bound by fateful love’ be stronger?
Decision: leave them be.
That was Lydia’s philosophy of pure love.
“….”
Mave came over beside Lydia. She was eyeing the two with suspicion.
“Isn’t the atmosphere over there a little strange?”
“…Leave them be.”
“No, is it really okay to leave them like that…?”
“They’re tender shoots who haven’t even realized their own feelings yet. It’s good manners not to trample them, but to watch over them warmly. They’ll probably soon be hooking pinkies and saying, ‘Let’s start as friends.’”
“Oh, Sun God, have mercy….”
Mave clicked her tongue.
Leaving them behind, Lydia headed toward the dormitory. The others looked to Lydia, their de facto leader.
“Ah, Lady Lydia! Are you heading back first?”
“Yes. I have something to do, so I’ll go on ahead.”
Arti scratched his cheek and said,
“You’ve been leaving early a lot lately. You always stayed until training was over….”
“I’m giving a gift to a genius.”
“A genius?”
“That’s right.”
At Lydia’s words,
Arti, Aria, and Mave tilted their heads.
“?”
“?”
“?”
*
Creak, bang!
Shrrrk—!
In front of Morgan’s workshop.
Lydia watched the shabby wooden door become bound by red chains. As always, she’d planned to leave a gift in front of it and go, but the shabby wooden door suddenly became an illusion and swallowed her.
As a result,
she had automatically entered the workshop like this.
Lydia was inwardly impressed.
‘…To cast such an intricate illusory barrier with the catalyst materials she must be short on because she has no money—Morgan really is a genius.’
Lydia looked around the dim workshop—its scenery more like a storage room. Then she spotted the girl sitting on a desk in the deepest corner, legs crossed….
A red-haired girl,
the witch Morgan, narrowed her eyes and glared.
In the darkness, her red eyes shone like jewels.
Lydia couldn’t help thinking,
‘…For the Republic to regard such beautiful light as a symbol of the lowborn. They have no eye for beauty.’
“….”
“….”
Morgan said,
“Who are you?”
“Lydia de Gallia. That is my name.”
“Royalty? Why on earth would royalty….”
Morgan bit her lip. Then she looked at Lydia’s hand. As expected, it held magic catalyst materials neatly bundled with golden thread.
“What’s your angle?”
“…Nothing. I’m simply offering a gift to an honorable genius. In the hope that we might become friends.”
“Cut the crap. Admiration, friendship, honor… all that stuff is worse than trash.”
Morgan lifted one corner of her mouth and said,
“Do you think I don’t know the petty schemes of nobles? Would a girl born to a lowborn be that oblivious, too? Come on, tell me your real motive. Why do you keep leaving materials at my door? Pity? Threats? Mockery? Whatever it is, say it.”
“….”
It was a brazen attitude. Even though she was a foreigner, the very fact that she was speaking so forcefully to another country’s royal was precarious.
But Lydia wasn’t shaken.
‘She’s bluffing. And it’s part of her self-destructive nature. She’d rather reject someone before they abandon her… Look closely, her hands are trembling.’
Lydia spoke confidently. Even in the dark, warehouse-like workshop, her hair shimmered like gold.
“I want to be a friend who uses you.”
“…What?”
Morgan was taken aback.
Lydia continued,
“So won’t you use me as a friend, too?”