Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 1 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

How Quickly the Headmaster Rubs His Hands

Serendia Academy was named for Serendine—the Goddess of Light and one of the Spirit Kings—in order to receive her divine protection. Her staff and crown of lilies served as the motifs for the school’s emblem.

Originally, it was not the custom of royalty and nobility to send their children to school. As the times progressed, however, more and more noble children began attending educational institutions. Serendia Academy was one such place.

Now there were many schools, including boarding schools and schools for girls, but Serendia Academy held the honor of being the first school attended by a member of Ridill’s royalty.

The Kingdom of Ridill had three elite schools in particular: Serendia Academy, where members of the royal family went; Minerva’s Mage Training Institution; and the Temple-Affiliated University.

Among them, the University was most focused on law. Minerva’s areas of expertise were magic and magecraft. Serendia Academy, in the meantime, excelled in teaching all subjects besides those two.

The academy had it all: first-rate instructors, an enormous collection of books, and facilities and equipment befitting its noble-born students.

Getting into the academy required a substantial enrollment fee and donation, but students had a tremendous advantage finding work in the court after graduation. Among nobles, being able to call yourself a Serendia Academy alumnus was a status symbol.

It hardly needed to be said that those who had participated in the academy’s student council were viewed with particular awe. Especially with the second prince, Felix Arc Ridill, currently serving as the council’s president, becoming a member meant a chance to be chosen as his close aide.

Indeed—normally, becoming a student council member would guarantee a secure future.

…So then why is this happening?! Aaron O’Brien cried out in his mind. Aaron was the current student council accountant at Serendia Academy.

He stood in the center of the room, with the rest of the student council surrounding him. They’d been his fellows until just the previous day, but now, they all looked at him as though he was a criminal.

Tension filled the student council room, but one person was smiling: a young man sitting in the president’s chair with a fist to his cheek—the student council president and second prince of the Kingdom of Ridill, Felix Arc Ridill.

“Now then.”

Two words from Felix were enough to completely change the mood. Aaron’s shoulders sprang up. Felix directed a smile at him—the smile of a deeply compassionate saint.

“Our investigation has uncovered traces of tampering,” began Felix. “Specifically, a misappropriation of budget funds. And it happened more than just once or twice… Isn’t that right?”

His voice was gentle and exceedingly calm, yet so cold that it felt like a knife stabbing into the listener’s heart.

Aaron remained silent. The secretary, a young man with brown hair and slightly droopy eyes named Elliott Howard, leveled a sharp gaze on him.

“Then you’ve lost count of how many times you misappropriated funds?” he said. “…Because just from what I’ve found, the count is more than thirty.”

Elliott’s tone was flippant, but his eyes were replete with disdain as he watched Aaron.

After Elliott, another secretary—a beautiful blond girl named Bridget Greyham—covered her mouth with a folding fan and remarked, “That is quite a lot, considering it covers only last year’s general budget. But did he not also embezzle funds from the special budget?”

At Bridget’s words, a short boy with bright brown hair named Neil Clay Maywood—their officer of general affairs—nodded. “Yes. We’re still reviewing the special budget, but there were signs of falsification there as well, so there is little doubt. A preliminary count places the combined total at…close to fifty instances.”

Faced with one person after another pointing out his misdeeds, Aaron clicked his tongue. How the hell am I supposed to remember how many times I did it?! His collaborator had warned him he was going overboard, but even so, he should never have been discovered.

As Aaron maintained his silence, Felix, gentle smile still on his face, began again. “We selected you for the student council at the recommendation of my grandfather, Duke Clockford.”

Student council members were appointed by the president. There had been several who had used money in order to curry favor with Felix, and by extension with his grandfather, Duke Clockford. One of those who had offered quite a lot was Aaron’s father, Count Steil.

That was why Duke Clockford had ordered his grandson Felix to select Aaron for the student council. If he’d only done his job as accountant properly, both his and Count Steil’s futures would have been secured.

Unfortunately, House Steil had contributed a little too much to Duke Clockford, resulting in near-destitution. As a result, Aaron’s allowance had been greatly reduced, and he had started embezzling student council funds for money to fool around with.

Damn it, damn it, damn it…!

Aaron ground his teeth and Felix’s eyes narrowed. As the prince passed his judgment, his voice was incredibly soft and ice-cold. He meant to corner Aaron slowly and prolong his torment.

“I cannot levy any punishment greater than expulsion. However, my grandfather will likely cut all ties with Count Steil.”

Aaron felt the blood drain from his body. Everyone who studied at this academy knew that behind the second prince was the most influential noble in the kingdom: Duke Clockford. And the duke was a coldhearted, merciless, and brutal man.

“It would seem your father sought the trust of House Clockford in order to obtain loans. Oh, how sad. After this, Count Steil will be unable to receive a loan from anyone, and your house will likely fall into ruin.”

Aaron’s face became slick with sweat. I’ll be fine, he thought. I know it. I know they’ll do something about this!

He’d had a collaborator this whole time. He was certain they would pull some strings and get him out of this mess.

Yes… Erm, they’ll, um…

But when he tried to envision his collaborator’s face, he found that he couldn’t. At first, he thought it was only confusion due to his current distress, but the more he tried to remember, the more blurred his memories became. His thoughts dulled. His head swam.

Why? Why can’t I remember them?

Aaron O’Brien had had a collaborator. He was sure of it. Pretty sure, at least. They had conspired with him in exchange for half the takings.

And yet, he couldn’t remember that collaborator’s face, or their voice, or their name—nothing at all.

“Ah, ah, ahhh…”

For some reason beyond his understanding, the memory had completely vanished. The sensation was similar to the fear one might feel seeing a gaping hole in one’s body.

Face soaked with sweat, he held his stinging head and began to tremble uncontrollably. His intense fear gave way to panic. Aaron was a breath away from losing it—and then Felix, with that saintly smile, delivered the finishing blow.

“…Do you understand? Your foolishness has caused the downfall of House Steil.”

Aaron could hear a thread snap in the back of his mind. He had lost control.

The inside of his head was hot. Really hot. It felt like the blood vessels were being burned away—and he gave himself up to the heat, shouting out as froth began to form on his lips.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up! The royal family are just…just lapdogs of the duke!”

With all his self-control gone, Aaron jumped onto the desk in a rage and tried to grab Felix. Before he could touch the prince, however, one of Felix’s aides waiting at the wall leaped into action and restrained him. This young man with platinum-blond hair was Cyril Ashley, the student council’s vice president.

Cyril swiftly chanted a spell, then gave the command: “Freeze!” Immediately, Aaron’s feet were covered in blocks of ice.

Now that he’d restrained Aaron with ice magic, Cyril’s well-defined features warped into an angry glare. “How dare you! Brutish remarks and violence directed at His Royal Highness… You deserve to die a thousand deaths! I’ll turn you into an ice sculpture and knock you out the window!”

The ice covering Aaron’s feet began to make cracking noises as it crawled up each of his legs. At this rate, he would transform into a full-body ice sculpture.

But as the ice reached Aaron’s knees, Felix interrupted.

“It isn’t your job to deal with him, Cyril.”

At Felix’s command, Cyril immediately halted the progress of his spell. Then he bowed his head to the prince.

“… I acted out of line, sir. Please accept my humblest apologies.”

“You were concerned for my safety, right? Thank you for protecting me.” Felix smiled at Cyril before letting his gaze drift back to Aaron.

His eyes, sky blue with just a drop of green mixed in, looked mercilessly upon Aaron.

“Aaron O’Brien, you shall confine yourself to your dorm until official notification of your expulsion is handed down. You should have plenty of time to reflect on how much of an idiot you must be to have been outwitted by a lapdog of the duke.”

“Ugh,” muttered Aaron from trembling lips.

His memories were rapidly growing hazier and hazier. He knew he’d had a collaborator. He was sure of it, but he couldn’t remember… No, no, no.

…Had he really been working alone?

* * *

In the carriage heading for Serendia Academy, Monica was at a loss.

“Wh-what to do, what to do…?”

To be precise, the reason she was cradling her head in her hands at the moment had to do with the rooms in the girls’ dormitories.

Serendia Academy was a boarding school, and its dorm assignments were generally two people to a room. But Monica, who had been living in a mountain cabin due to her fear of being around people, was never going to survive living in a two-person room.

As if having to guard the prince isn’t troublesome enough!

“It doesn’t need to be anything fancy… Just please let me have an attic room…”

The school did have single-person rooms, but those were apparently limited to students with exceptional grades or those who had made significant donations. To tell the truth, it wouldn’t have been that difficult to pay the required donation. Monica had barely touched the income she received as one of the Seven Sages, so money wasn’t the issue.

But with her cover story as Monica Norton, the outcast of House Kerbeck, it would no doubt arouse suspicion if she paid a large donation to secure a single room.

The problem would be solved were she to share a room with her collaborator for this mission, Isabelle, but the younger girl was a first-year in the advanced course. The dorms usually put people of the same year together, so as a second-year, Monica couldn’t be paired with her.

What to do? What to do? As Monica trembled, head still buried in her hands, Isabelle offered a confident proposition.

“If the dorms are what you’re worried about, my sister, I have an idea. Allow me to resolve the matter brilliantly and in a way befitting a proper villainess.”

“A…a proper villainess…?” repeated Monica, visibly confused.

Isabelle grinned. “You can leave it to me!”

Eventually, the carriage reached Serendia Academy. The building was beautiful, just like the Ridill Royal Palace. White walls and a blue roof—it didn’t have the spires the castle did, but it was decorated all over with gorgeous sculptures. Monica looked up at it in a daze.

“Shall we go?” asked Isabelle, prompting her onward.

Instead of heading for the dormitories, though, Isabelle proceeded to the headmaster’s office. If we suddenly request a meeting, thought Monica, filled with trepidation, won’t the headmaster be cross with us?

Contrary to her expectations, however, the headmaster was quite obsequious in accepting their request, rubbing his hands together all the while.

Isabelle’s family, House Kerbeck, was famous—in fact, it was one of the top five rural noble houses in the kingdom. Given how much they’d donated to the school, it was no surprise that the headmaster was especially deferential toward Isabelle.

“Oh, why, hello and welcome, Lady Isabelle. As always, I am eternally indebted to your father.”

The headmaster was middle-aged and wore his gray hair combed down. His large face was now covered with an ingratiating smile as he guided Isabelle and Monica into his office.

As befitted a school for the children of nobles, Serendia Academy’s interior was sumptuously decorated. In particular, they’d clearly spared no expense on the headmaster’s office; the walls were adorned with expensive-looking paintings and sculptures and the like.

Isabelle took a seat—by herself—on the sofa across from the headmaster, then ordered Monica to stand behind it. “I come here with a request I’d very much like your help with, Headmaster.”

“Oh, oh yes. If there is anything at all that worries you, I will do everything in my power to assist.”

As the headmaster smoothly leaned forward, Isabelle took out her folding fan and covered her mouth with it. Then she heaved a sigh that sounded truly melancholy. “I have heard Serendia Academy’s dormitories are two students to a room… I am a very delicate and sensitive girl, and I simply couldn’t stand to sleep in the same room as someone I’ve never met.”

“Oh! If that is all, you needn’t worry. I will prepare an individual room that is worthy of the noble daughter of Count Kerbeck. And now that you mention it, that young lady is a relative, isn’t she? Shall I prepare a room for her near yours?”

“Well, I never! You would put her close to me?!” said Isabelle, taking the opportunity to raise her voice. The headmaster shuddered in surprise. Monica, who hadn’t been clued in on Isabelle’s plan, was also shocked and couldn’t help but let out a squeal and shudder.

“You must be joking!” Isabelle continued. “I shall not be placed in a room anywhere near this girl who smells of mud!”

“Ahhh, I do sincerely apologize for being so insensitive. I will prepare a room for her as far away from yours as—”

“Headmaster! Even a normal room is unsuitable for this girl! I would feel just terrible for whoever was forced to live with her.”

When Isabelle tilted her fan and began to fake-cry, the headmaster’s hand-wringing accelerated considerably. As he rubbed his palms together in a display of obsequiousness, he said soothingly, “I-in that case, what would you have me do…?”

Behind her fan, Isabelle let slip a smile—she was now certain of her victory. Then she glanced up at Monica, who was hanging her head behind the sofa, and said in a mean-spirited voice, “Why, an attic room is good enough for the likes of you… Isn’t that right?”

Trembling, Monica eked out a nod. Isabelle turned back to the headmaster and assured him, “She agrees, as you can see.”

“An attic room…?” repeated the headmaster, sounding averse. He was probably more concerned about the academy’s reputation than he was about Monica.

Isabelle turned a sharp glare on him. “Is it unavailable? If so, a stable would suffice.”

“No, no. We’ll have a bed brought up to the attic room. Yes, yes.”

As the headmaster looked away, Isabelle shot Monica a wink. Monica was totally astonished by this skillful villainess-style resolution.

V-villainesses are pretty amazing…

But it wasn’t villainesses who were amazing—it was Isabelle.

* * *

Once she had left the headmaster’s office, Monica let out a sigh of relief.

The attic room was above the storage room on the top floor of the student dorms, a different floor than all the other students. Such treatment might have reduced a proper young noble lady to tears, but Monica was incredibly grateful for it.

“I, ummm, Lady Isabelle… Th-thank…”

As Monica attempted to murmur out a thank-you, Isabelle’s eyes suddenly got misty. Monica, shocked, looked at her in a panic.

“U-um, Lady Isabelle?”

“Ahhh… If only we could have been roommates! We could have arranged secret tea parties in the middle of the night or crawled under the covers together and shared secrets! But…but I can’t allow myself to get in the way of your mission! I fully understand that!”

After wiping her eyes with a handkerchief, she threw her arms around a flustered Monica and clung to the back of her neck. “My sister! If you’re ever free, please, please come to my room to visit! I’ll do my very best to make you feel welcome!”

“O-okay…,” said Monica, nodding stiffly. Isabelle suddenly realized what she was doing and straightened herself out.

They could hear voices from around the corner of the hallway. The entrance ceremony wasn’t until tomorrow, but a few teachers and students with club activities could be seen around the school. Thus, it wasn’t strange for them to run into someone, but the conversation they were hearing was certainly unusual.

“Damn it! Let me go! Lemme go! I did nothing wrong!”

“Shut up already! Or I’ll freeze your mouth shut next!”

“Settle down, Cyril Ashley.”

“Yeah, Cyril. You’re being even louder than he is.”

From around the corner came three male students and one young male teacher.

A student with black hair was screaming and shouting to be let go, while the other three were restraining him, apparently trying to bring him somewhere.

Isabelle whispered to Monica in a low voice so that only she could hear, “That black-haired young man… That would be Lord Aaron O’Brien of House Steil. I’ve seen him before at social events.”

Aaron was a fairly tall boy, and the other three were having a hard time restraining him despite their number.

Isabelle took out her fan and smoothly covered her mouth. “…The brown-haired boy is Elliott Howard of House Dasvy. I’m not familiar with the silver-haired one, but since he wears the student council emblem, he must be from an elite house as well.”

I see, thought Monica. As Isabelle had pointed out, the three male students wore small emblems on their lapels.

Isabelle had both a good memory and a sharp eye—the way she’d recalled their names so quickly and spotted their lapel pins was brilliant.

Monica furtively glanced at her in admiration. Wouldn’t she be much better at infiltration than I would? she wondered.

In the meantime, the clamorous group of four started heading their way, so Isabelle and Monica both quickly moved to the wall to make room.

The brown-haired boy with the droopy eyes, Elliott Howard, looked toward them and casually raised a hand, saying, “Sorry for the noise.”

But right then, the black-haired Aaron—the one being restrained by the other three—looked at the two girls with bloodshot eyes and shouted, “Hey! Hey, you two, say something already! I’m being tricked! I don’t… I don’t remember, I don’t remember, I don’t know, I can’t recall… Ahhhhh…!”

“Quiet already! Shut your mouth!” barked the silver-haired young man, veins popping out of his temples. He then quickly muttered something.

The muttering brought Monica’s head back up. It was a magecraft chant.

And a shortened one, too…!

The silver-haired boy weaved his spell in half the time of a normal chant, then snapped his fingers. Aaron’s flailing wrists froze together like shackles. The silver-haired boy then produced a small shard of ice in his palm and rammed it into Aaron’s mouth, holding it there.

As the ice shard was shoved into his mouth, Aaron’s eyes widened, and he voicelessly screamed.

“Hmph. Hopefully this cools your head a bit,” spat the silver-haired boy distastefully.

The droopy-eyed Elliott looked at him in exasperation. “Cyril, did you know all the girls call you the Icy Scion?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s the name of a character in a novel popular in the capital. Apparently, he’s wonderfully cool and collected. Why don’t you try a little harder to meet their expectations, hmm?”

“I fail to understand. I am always calm.”

“……”

Elliott simply shrugged at Cyril—the young silver-haired man.

Finally, the teacher addressed them both and said, “Let’s get moving.”

“Yes, Mr. Thornlee,” answered Elliott without argument.

Cyril looked at Isabelle and Monica and offered a brief apology. Then the three of them dragged Aaron away.

When all four were out of sight, Isabelle broke the silence.

“I wonder if something’s happened in the student council.”

Speaking of the student council, its president was the target of Monica’s assignment—the second prince, Felix Arc Ridill. If there had been an incident in the student council, it meant Monica, his bodyguard, would need to learn the details.

Nooo… I’ve only just transferred, and I have a feeling things are already getting complicated…

Reflecting on their turbulent encounter with the council members, Monica held her stomach and let out a small groan.

* * *

The attic room Monica was given turned out to be much cleaner than she’d expected. The headmaster had probably seen to it. The room contained both a small, simple bed and a desk for studying—more than enough for Monica.

She raised the window to air out the room, then opened up her travel bag. “Nero, you can come out now… Nero?”

She dumped the contents of her travel bag onto the bed, sending Nero rolling out, too.

“Myaaaahhh…” He made a sound halfway between a yawn and a meow. “Hmm? What’s this? Did we arrive already?”

“Mm-hmm. Were you sleeping that whole time?”

“Yep. I can sleep whenever and wherever I want. Pretty great, right?” he boasted.

“Sure,” said Monica offhandedly as she picked her coffeepot up off the bed.

The desk that came with the room had several small drawers in it. The bottommost could be locked, so that’s where she put the pot.

Despite being one of the greatest mages in the kingdom, Monica had precious few possessions she really cared about. This coffeepot, a keepsake from her father, was far more important to her than her golden staff or the ring and robe signifying the noble rank she had received when she became a Sage.

The pot was her only treasure—she couldn’t think of any others.

Nero yawned and looked up at her from the bed after she’d locked the drawer. “So how’s school life?”

“Um, they say classes will start tomorrow…”

Starting tomorrow, she would be entering Serendia Academy as a second-year student in the advanced program. And she would be doing so as Monica Norton—not Monica Everett, the Silent Witch. Her face clouded over as she recalled her days at Minerva’s Mage Training Institution. For someone as shy as she was, the group lifestyle of a school was nothing but agony. For the latter half of her time at Minerva’s, she had holed up in the lab near-constantly.

“…Ugh. Just imagining it is giving me a stomachache…”

The reason Monica had come here was to secretly protect the second prince. But before she could even think about the mission, in order to not stand out, she would have to live life as a student. Which, for Monica, was going to be difficult.

“Eh, don’t sweat the small stuff. Just have a good time with it. Doesn’t academy life seem fun?”

“…You only say that because you don’t know how scary it is…”

“If it seems like someone’s going to find out your secret, you can just use magecraft to handle it, right? Piece of cake. You’re an incredible mage, so… Like, couldn’t you just control or alter the memories of anyone who finds out about you?”

Nero could be carefree because he knew so little about human affairs. Monica shook her head, a gloomy expression on her face. “Actually, any magecraft that interferes with human minds, like manipulating someone or rewriting their memories—that’s all forbidden… If I used it on someone without permission, they’d take my mage certification away from me…”

Magecraft that interfered with someone’s mind or mental state was permitted only in very special circumstances, such as when extracting confessions from criminals. Researching it was allowed, and Monica had read a book or two on the subject. However, while she could use such spells if she wished, she didn’t particularly want to.

“Spells like those are really hard to control. Sometimes people develop side effects, like memory problems or falling into a state of confusion… And I’ve heard that if it goes really poorly, they might never regain consciousness.”

“What? That’s terrifying.”

“Mm-hmm. So you can’t use it for just anything.”

Suddenly, Monica recalled Aaron O’Brien, one of the male students they’d passed by earlier today. He had been in a state of confusion, saying he didn’t know, didn’t remember, and so on. That sounded very similar to the symptoms of someone whose mind had been interfered with using magecraft.

…No, it can’t be, thought Monica before shaking her head and turning her focus to preparing for the next day.

“Humans sure do have it rough, huh?” said Nero, his whiskers bobbing up and down.

“Yeah. I wish I could be a cat…,” muttered Monica with a dry laugh.

Nero narrowed his golden eyes and stared up at her. “Ever heard of survival of the fittest? It’s even worse for cats than it is for dragons. I can assure you—if you were to become a cat, a crow would peck you to death within minutes.”

“…Haah.”

She had no answer to that.