Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 1 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

The Greatest of Trials (Self-Introductions)

Monica had never made any effort to remember people’s faces. Living by herself in her mountain cabin, she had needed to recognize only the barest minimum of acquaintances.

Unfortunately, as a result, she wasn’t familiar with the face of the very person she was supposed to guard—the second prince. And if she was going to be a student here while protecting him, she’d have to memorize the names and faces of everyone around him, too. And so, since coming to Serendia Academy, she was finally putting in the effort to remember people again.

Monica had an easy time remembering people when she wanted to. She had a bit of a special ability: She could, to an extent, measure lengths and angles just by looking at them, without the aid of a ruler or other such device. So all she had to do was compute the widths and angles of a person’s facial features and simply remember those numbers.

“Monica Norton, this will be your homeroom teacher, Mr. Thornlee.”

On the first day of classes, the headmaster took her to the faculty room and introduced her to a male teacher. The teacher looked around forty, and he wore his gray-streaked black hair combed back. His cheeks were thin, he wore round spectacles, and his facial features made him appear high-strung.

Monica committed the man’s face, or rather his numbers, to memory—the angle of his jaw and the width of his eyes.

This is the teacher who was with the student council members yesterday…

Mr. Thornlee didn’t seem to remember her, though, as he made no particular mention of the previous day’s events. “My name is Victor Thornlee,” he said. “I teach fundamental magecraft.”

“Mr. Thornlee is a graduate of Minerva’s. He has a high-mage certification, as well as several accolades from the Mages Guild for the invention of new magical formulas…”

The headmaster went on, boasting about Mr. Thornlee’s history and achievements as if they were his own.

Being an alumnus of Minerva’s, the greatest mage-fostering institution in the kingdom, and having a high-mage’s license made him an elite among elites. Monica could understand why the headmaster would be so proud of having the man as a teacher. Knowledge of magecraft was considered a type of refinement for aristocrats, after all.

“Mr. Thornlee has also been adviser to the student council for five years now. It is difficult to understate how much of an honor it is to be the adviser to Serendia Academy’s student council—”

“Headmaster, we must be going soon,” interrupted Mr. Thornlee, checking the pocket watch in his left hand.

The headmaster grinned and gave a smooth apology before going back to his seat.

Mr. Thornlee fussily adjusted his glasses, then looked at Monica as if evaluating her. “By the way, I still haven’t heard you introduce yourself.”

“Um… Well…” Monica looked down and began to fidget with her fingers.

The teacher turned a sharp glare on her. “Back straight!”

“Y-yes, sir!”

The reprimand caused her to give a start and stare back up at him. She was still too scared to look him straight in the eye, though. As her gaze drifted, Mr. Thornlee gave an ostentatious sigh. “Serendia Academy is one of the greatest schools in the land. We expect a certain degree of character and an impeccable level of culture in our students’ attitudes.”

Monica could tell he was implying she lacked both. In truth, she’d been a commoner before her appointment to the Seven Sages, so she really didn’t have the “culture” that came with a noble upbringing.

“Can you at least offer me a proper greeting?”

“I’m, I-I’m so…sor—”

“Lamentable,” said Mr. Thornlee, cutting her off midway through the awkward apology and walking away. “Class is beginning. Come with me.”

“Y-yes, sir…”

“Back straight!” he barked.

Monica, half in tears, fixed her posture and followed him.

Though she usually stuck with her favorite timeworn robe, today she wore the Serendia Academy uniform: a mostly white one-piece dress with a bolero over the top and a pair of white gloves. Even at Minerva’s, noble children would choose to wear their own pair of gloves, but here at Serendia Academy, they were part of the uniform. Monica kept clenching and unclenching her hands, not able to get used to their sensation. Inside the gloves, her palms were slick with sweat.

Eventually, they arrived at the classroom, where Mr. Thornlee had her stand in front of the podium.

“Everyone, your attention, please,” he announced. “A new student will be joining us today—Lady Monica Norton.”

Her classmates’ eyes were all focused on her. That alone was enough to make her dizzy. She felt like a criminal standing trial.

“Please introduce yourself,” prompted Mr. Thornlee.

Monica’s throat began to seize up. Just being exposed to people like this was almost unbearable, and now he wanted her to introduce herself!

I have to…say something… In times like these, Louis had taught her, all she needed to do was say my name is, then her name, then bow or curtsy. But for Monica, even that was a daunting trial.

She opened her mouth to try anyway but managed only to flap her lips without actually saying anything.

Mr. Thornlee gave a particularly audible sigh, not bothering to hide his exasperation. It was like a knife in her heart.

“All right,” he said, “take your seat. Yours is the farthest one back along the wall next to the hallway.”

Still unable to respond, Monica headed for her seat, legs shaking. Eventually the lesson began, and Monica’s brain absorbed absolutely none of it.

* * *

“Excuse me?”

Monica had been sitting stock-still in her chair—despite the start of break time—when she heard a voice from right next to her. Was someone speaking to her? But what if they had the wrong person? Monica found herself unable to look up or respond.

This time, the person tapped her shoulder. “Look, I’m trying to talk to you here, new student.”

Monica gave a start, then awkwardly lifted her face.

Looking down at her was a girl with flaxen hair. She was fair-skinned, with large eyes, and gave off a spirited air. Her hair was done up in intricate braids, and equally intricate-looking earrings hung from her ears.

“I’m Lana Colette,” said the girl, giving Monica a close inspection from head to toe before putting her hand on her waist. “Hey, why do you wear your hair in basic braids like that? You look like a country bumpkin. Nobody else at this school styles their hair that way.”

As Lana pointed out, Monica’s light-brown hair was parted into two loose, simple braids. Louis had taught her several hairstyles befitting a noble girl, but they were all too complicated, and she couldn’t remember any of them. The noble girls who had brought a servant to the dorms could have their servant style their hair, but of course Monica didn’t have anyone like that.

“I—I…I don’t really…know any, um, other…way…”

And just like that, everyone staring at Monica seemed to say with their gaze, That figures. With that statement, she had disclosed that she hadn’t brought a servant with her. Most of the students who hadn’t brought one had a reason.

“Where were you raised?” asked Lana.

Monica’s breath caught in her throat. She’d been born and raised in a town relatively close to the royal capital, but right now, she had to pretend to be related to House Kerbeck.

“…L-L-Liannack…,” she offered. It was the name of one of the towns in the count’s territory.

“Oh!” exclaimed Lana, her eyes widening. “The large town by the kingdom’s border! They get imports of rare cloth from our neighbor, right? Hey, what kind of styles are in fashion in Liannack right now? What kinds of dresses do they wear? And what kinds of scarves?”

The barrage of questions put Monica at a complete and total loss. She wasn’t actually from Liannack to begin with, and even if she had lived there, she wouldn’t have known a thing about the latest fashions.

“I, um, I don’t really…know much about…that stuff… I’m sorry…”

Lana pursed her lips at the mumbled apology and frowned. “Hey, why don’t you wear any makeup? You should at least use powder and lipstick, right? Look at my lipstick. It’s the newest item from a makeup shop in the capital.”

After that, Lana began to nitpick almost every part of Monica’s outfit. “Oh, gloves with embroidery on the edges are the cutest,” she said. “I can’t believe you aren’t wearing a single accessory” and “Those boots are way out of fashion.”

Monica could only apologize and say, trembling, that she didn’t really know one way or the other.

She really didn’t understand anything Lana was saying. Lana’s hairstyle was very intricate, with beautiful hairpins. Her necklace was lovely as well, and the ribbon at her neck was adorned with splendid embroidery. Though she wore the same uniform as Monica, Lana’s made a completely different impression.

Seeing Monica in a fix, the female students around them began to put their fans to their lips and whisper to one another.

“Didn’t her father just become baron? And now she’s bragging about it to a country girl.”

“Nobody else will talk to her, so country girls are all who’re left.”

“She must really be desperate, since they bought their noble title and all.”

Their voices were low but still loud enough for Monica to hear. Obviously, Lana could hear them as well. The latter’s dainty eyebrows began to twitch, and eventually she brushed her flaxen hair back and sniffed. “Hmph. I’ve had quite enough of this. It’s boring talking to you anyway.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Monica was used to being called boring. She was painfully aware of how dull she was. The topics that excited others fell flat with her, and she knew nothing of the latest trends. Her only interests were mathematics and magecraft. Because of that, all she could do was keep her head down, not make eye contact with anyone, and wait it out. She was looking down now, too, stiff as a stone.

Suddenly, Lana reached out and grabbed Monica’s braids. Monica gave a terrified yelp, but Lana told her to “just stay still,” her tone sharp.

Then Lana undid Monica’s braids and started re-braiding them. Since there was no mirror here, Monica couldn’t see what was happening on her head.

Eventually, Lana nodded in satisfaction. “That should do,” she said. “See how simple that was? Now, learn how to do it for yourself!”

With that, Lana strode boldly back to her seat. Nervously, Monica touched her fingertips to her head—and felt a ribbon hanging there, smooth and soft to the touch.

* * *

Most students at Serendia Academy ate lunch at the school cafeteria. Not only did the cafeteria feature an array of first-rate chefs, it also had a full waitstaff. They performed simple taste tests on every batch of food to check for poison as well, so the students could enjoy their meals in peace.

A select few students had brought their own chefs or waitstaff to the dormitories, and they’d eat in their room after having the food cooked in the cafeteria. The second prince, whom Monica was supposed to be guarding, was apparently one such student.

Which means there’s no reason for me to go to the cafeteria…

Using that as an excuse, Monica snuck out of the classroom once lunch break began. All her classmates were streaming toward the cafeteria, but Monica went against the tide and exited the school building.

She had about a handful’s worth of berries in her pocket, and she was hoping to find somewhere to eat them without many people around. Monica had always been good at finding isolated places. When she went to Minerva’s, she’d always holed up in a secret spot to read books on magecraft and mathematics. Since the weather was nice and there wasn’t much wind today, Monica decided to take a walk outside.

Serendia Academy was located on a very large plot of land, and its gardens were beautifully maintained. Summer’s flowers had withered, replaced by the buds of autumn roses that had just begun to bloom.

For the most part, schools attended by nobles began the year in autumn, and commoner schools opened their doors in spring. From spring to summer, nobles were busy with events for the social season, and autumn was when commoners harvested their crops. The school year for each group was set up so as to avoid those times of the year.

Though Monica was of common birth, she’d never gone to a school with the other kids in town. Her father had been a very knowledgeable man and had been able to personally teach her while he was alive. After his passing, her father’s disciple—through some twists and turns—had become her foster parent and had enrolled her at Minerva’s.

That was why Monica wasn’t accustomed to communal living. Even when she’d gone to Minerva’s, she hadn’t had anyone there she could call a friend.

…Well, there was one person, but they’d said their final farewells already.

Still, because of her talent at magecraft, Monica had been allowed to hole up in the lab at Minerva’s. But here at Serendia Academy, that wasn’t possible.

Magecraft-related courses were available as electives here, but revealing her abilities would complicate matters. With her level of social anxiety, unchanted magecraft was the only kind she could use. And if anyone here found out that she could cast without chanting, they’d realize she was the Silent Witch.

Sighing to herself, Monica touched the ribbon in her hair. I didn’t… I didn’t even say thank you, she thought. It was always like this. The things she wanted to say would stick in her throat, and she’d end up swallowing them back down without saying anything at all.

If I can’t even have a conversation with a classmate, how am I supposed to get close to the prince? She would need to do so in order to guard him, but he was a third-year student, and she was only a second-year. They were in different grades right from the start.

…If the goal was to guard the prince, then Mr. Louis could have made it so I was in the same grade as he is… No, wait, if he was really serious about it, he’d have sent a man. After all, the girls’ and boys’ dormitories are separate here!

Louis Miller may have been arrogant with a deeply flawed personality, but he was talented. He knew very well that this mission couldn’t be allowed to fail under any circumstances. And yet, his “plan” to protect the prince was full of holes. Even just sending someone extremely shy like Monica into the academy had been reckless. I wonder if Mr. Louis has something else in mind…, she mused.

As she was cutting through the gardens, she suddenly spotted a large fence near the back of the campus. The academy’s plot of land stretched beyond it, but everything that way was cordoned off on the other side of a metal gate. A placard was hung on the gate door that read, OLD GARDENS, UNDER MAINTENANCE, but a closer inspection revealed the gate itself wasn’t locked.

…I doubt many people go in there.

After making sure no one else was around, Monica hurried into the old gardens. Enclosed spaces like these made perfect hiding spots.

The foliage here wasn’t that rough, despite the UNDER MAINTENANCE sign she had seen on the gate. However, she barely saw any flowers at all. Apparently, they’d moved them to the beds out front. The only things that were blooming here were the wild autumn grasses.

But it’s a nice, quiet place… I should be able to relax here for a while, thought Monica, cheering herself up just a little and searching for a good spot to sit down. However, her light steps stopped dead after she turned past a cluster of azaleas.

Farther back in the gardens, at the edge of a worn-out fountain, a blond-haired young man sat reading. With his head down, she couldn’t make out his face, but his uniform was that of an academy student.

Monica’s face fell. She had been so sure this would be a good hiding spot, but someone had beaten her to it. Guess I’ll find somewhere else, she thought, shoulders drooping. But as she turned to leave, she heard a rustling through the grass behind her.

By the time she realized something was happening, an arm had grabbed her wrist from behind. She yelped.

“Caught you!” came the sharp voice of whoever was holding her as her breath caught in terror. “You walked right into my trap!”

Monica craned her neck to see over her shoulder and found a brown-haired young man looking down at her. His features were somewhat mature, with droopy eyes. She remembered his face—specifically, the angle at which his eyes drooped. This was one of the student council members who had been making a ruckus yesterday in the hallway.

If I remember what Lady Isabelle said…this would be Lord Elliott Howard of House Dasvy.

Elliott was gripping Monica’s wrist with far too much force for this to be some kind of prank. And he wasn’t even trying to hide the hostility in his eyes as he looked at her.

Elliott patted Monica’s pocket. He frowned; he could tell something was there, even through the fabric. “What’s that in your pocket? A weapon?”

“N-no, it’s—it’s my…my lunch…”

He laughed scornfully at her desperate explanation, as though it was absurd. “There’s no student at this academy who would put their lunch in their pocket.”

“Ahhh…” He was right—no noble girl who went to Serendia Academy would ever bring berries with them for lunch.

When Monica remained silent, Elliott gave an intrepid smirk and gazed down at her. “I know the face of just about every single student here except first-years. Judging by your uniform’s scarf color, you’re a second-year. But I don’t recall ever seeing you. So it would only make sense to assume you’re an infiltrator disguised as a student, right?” He paused for effect. “Now confess! Who hired you?”

Monica had passed by Elliott yesterday, but it had been for only a very short time, and she’d been looking down. He probably hadn’t gotten a good view of her face. Intimidated by the enmity in his voice, she started to tremble like a small animal.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no! I’m scared, he’s scary, this is scary!

Having fallen into a panic, she quickly cast a wind spell without chanting. It wasn’t harmful in the slightest—the gust was only enough to make someone stagger.

The dirt the wind kicked up, however, happened to hit Elliott right in the eyes. He let go of her and rubbed at his face.

I…I have to use this chance to get away…

Monica, blind with adrenaline, slipped from Elliott’s grasp and began to flee…or at least, she tried to. She was hopelessly uncoordinated; when she turned around, her foot twisted, and she fell over on the spot.

She gave a silly-sounding yelp as she hit the ground; the impact caused the berries to fly out of her pocket and scatter everywhere.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no…”

As she tried to get up, completely flustered, someone grabbed her arm. Nervously, she turned around and ended up looking straight into Elliott’s droopy eyes.

“You’re. Not. Going. Anywhere.”

“N-noooooo!”

As Monica broke into loud bawling, the blond-haired young man, who had been watching the exchange from his seat on the edge of the fountain, opened his mouth to speak.

“Elliott, let the girl go.”

“What? But why? If she came all the way here, she can’t be an academy student. I’d bet you anything Aaron sent her as an assassin to—”

Before Elliott could finish his sentence, the blond boy raised his index finger to his mouth. The former stopped talking, seeming embarrassed, and released Monica’s arm.

As she sat there in a daze, the blond young man squatted down next to her and picked the berries up off the ground. Monica gave him another look; he had very handsome features. Framed by long eyelashes, his eyes were mysterious—a bright sky blue with just a hint of green in them.

“I heard a new second-year student joined us this year. Would that happen to be you? What did they say your name was…? Ah yes. Lady Monica Norton.”

Sniffling loudly, Monica nodded.

The blond young man, still gathering the berries, looked at Elliott. “See? She isn’t an assassin—just a little squirrel who happened to get lost.” He took Monica’s hand and placed the berries he’d picked up into her palm. “I’m sorry we got in the way of your lunch.”

Monica tried to thank him—he’d gone through the trouble of kneeling to gather the berries. But she was so nervous that she couldn’t form words. I have to properly tell him thank you…

As her mouth formed a th shape, lips trembling, the young man suddenly looked up, then put his arms around her and pulled her close.

“Watch out!”

“…Huh?”

Monica followed his gaze and noticed something hurtling down from overhead. If they did nothing, it would fall on one or the other of them.

Wasting no time, she silently used a spell to create a strong wind. The gust blew into the falling object just enough so that it landed beside them instead of on top of them.

The object made a crashing noise and broke into several pieces—it had been a flowerpot, and it had fallen from right above them. Depending on where it hit, it could have caused more than a simple injury.

“It’s a good thing that wind blew through… Are you all right?” asked the young man, still holding Monica and sounding worried.

Monica, however, was in no state to reply. First, she’d been mistaken as a suspicious person and restrained, then a flowerpot had almost fallen on her head, and now she was being held in the arms of someone she’d only just met. Her mind simply couldn’t keep up with the string of unexpected events. She’d been stretched to the breaking point—and snap!

“…Ugh.”

Monica’s eyes rolled back in her head. Frantic, the blond young man caught her before she could fall to the ground.

* * *

A large black shadow stood before Monica’s eyes. It flickered and swayed as if cast by the light of a candle. As she gazed up at it in a daze, she thought, Oh no. He’s been drinking again.

The black shadow looked at Monica, ranting and raving. It was best not to say anything unnecessary in situations like this. So she kept her mouth shut, looked down, and thought about “Old Man Sam’s Pigs.”

One pig, one pig, two pigs, three pigs, five pigs, eight pigs, thirteen pigs, twenty-one pigs…

I was so happy when I realized that, aside from one, no two adjacent numbers have a common factor… When I told Dad that, he praised me for noticing it…

As Monica mused vacantly, the black shadow swung the alcohol bottle in its hand down toward her. There was a loud crash. Shards flew everywhere—shards of the bottle? No. No, it was…

…It was a flowerpot.

“Wah!”

Monica bolted upright, then gripped her chest to try and quell the incessant pounding of her heart. She had the feeling she’d just had a scary dream. The back of her head throbbed dully.

She exhaled. As she was getting her breathing under control, she heard a voice from right next to her hesitantly ask, “Are you all right?”

Monica awkwardly turned her head to look. A female student she didn’t recognize was gazing at her with worry. She was a short girl, with hair the color of hazelnuts and a calm demeanor about her.

“Who…a-are you?” stammered Monica awkwardly, shy as ever.

The girl gave a faint smile. “Selma Karsh. We’re in the same class—I’m the class health officer. I heard you had collapsed and were brought to the infirmary, so I came to see how you were doing.”

Oh, she thought. I’m on a bed in the infirmary. The blond young man had probably carried her here.

What was going on with them? she wondered. She’d only been looking for a place to eat her lunch. But instead, for some reason, she’d been mistaken for an intruder and almost hit by a flowerpot… She felt like so much had happened, and just in the span of her lunch break.

It had been pure luck that she’d been able to evade the flowerpot with her spell. If she’d been just a moment later, it would have been too late, even omitting the chant.

As she began to tremble, recalling the fear she’d felt, Selma reached out a pale hand and gently fixed Monica’s messy bangs. Those slender white fingers and light-pink nails—Selma’s hands were completely free of scratches or scars. They were the hands of a maiden who had never done any real work. And they were completely different from Monica’s, covered in writing callouses.

“Classes are over for the day, so if you want to return to your dorm, go ahead. I’ll tell Mr. Thornlee that you woke up.”

Saying no more, Selma quietly left the infirmary.

The sky outside the window was dyed the reds of sunset. Quite a lot of time had passed while she’d been sleeping. Monica got out of bed, then plodded back to her dorm, head hanging.

She hadn’t been around this many people in a long time, so her body and mind were utterly exhausted. Her feet were so heavy, she felt like they were bound with lead shackles.

At the girls’ dormitory, with dinner approaching, the female students were standing in small groups here and there, entertaining themselves with light conversation. Monica kept her gaze firmly down and away from all of them as she made her way up to the top floor. Walking in the corners away from prying eyes was custom for her—whether in this academy or in town. It had been since long ago. She’d always been an outsider, unable to blend in where people congregated.

Eventually, she reached the storage room on the top floor. She climbed the ladder in the back and pushed open the door in the ceiling that led into the attic room. The sun had completely set during her slow walk through campus, and now the room was just dark enough that she couldn’t see her own hands in front of her face.

Monica used an unchanted spell to light the candlestick. People praised her unchanted magecraft as a miracle, but for her, having a normal school life was far more difficult.

She removed the ribbon Lana had used to tie her hair and set it on her desk. Then she spread out a handkerchief and placed the berries on top—they had still been in her pocket.

…Tok-tok. She heard a knocking at the window.

When she looked over, she could faintly see the outline of a black cat against the night. She unlocked the window, and Nero deftly used his front paw to push it open.

“Welcome back, Nero.”

“Yep, I’m back. And with a whole load of information to boot! Compliment me!”

“…Mm-hmm. Thank you.”

“Listen and be amazed! The second prince is a third-year student and the student council president.”

These were facts she’d known for a while now. But Monica didn’t have the heart to say so in the face of Nero’s efforts, so she simply listened to him without speaking.

“That means that if you became a student council member, you could naturally stay close to him! I’m a genius!”

Nero’s suggestion was right on the mark. Given that the second prince and Monica were a grade apart, it would be tough for her to make contact with him normally. If she was part of the student council, however, the opposite would be true. But…

Monica fell face-first into her bed and wailed, “But I could never do that!”

Stellar grades were a nonnegotiable condition of becoming a student council member. You also needed to have connections to current members.

Nero gazed at her with his golden eyes. “Wait. I thought you were one of the Seven Sages, Monica. Aren’t you a genius? You do a bang-up job on your next test, and I’m sure you’ll be able to…”

Monica shook her head wordlessly, then lined her textbooks up on her bed. An overwhelming portion of them were on history or languages. Those were the fields of knowledge noble children were expected to have, after all.

But Monica’s focus had been magecraft and everything about it. She was quite familiar with magecraft history, magecraft fundamentals, magical biology, magical engineering, and law topics related to magecraft, but as for just about anything else, save mathematics, she was below average. Her ability to memorize things was heavily skewed: While she could commit anything that had to do with magecraft to memory, as for other things…well, she couldn’t even list the five noble ranks in order.

“You went to that other school, right? Minerva’s, yeah? Didn’t you learn any language stuff there?”

“…A-at Minerva’s, I focused on…ancient magic script and spiritspeak…” Neither of those was a subject usually taught to nobles. Most people went their whole lives without ever touching upon either of them.

Monica held Nero to her chest and hung her head. “What should I do? Oh, what should I do…?” At this point, she was in no position to protect the second prince. It would take everything she had just to avoid failing out of the academy.

Actually, she had an even more fundamental issue…

“A lot of people were very kind to me today,” she said, glancing at the ribbon and berries sitting on the desk.

Lana had been overbearing, but she had been the first in class to speak to her. And the young man she’d met in the old gardens had picked up her berries for her. Isabelle had already done so much to support her, and Selma, the health officer, had come to check on her.

“To tell the truth, I wanted to properly say thank you to them, but I…” Her shoulders drooped again.

Nero looked up at her. “Wait, but can’t you say thank you to me just fine? You just did. I heard you.”

“That’s because you’re not human, Nero…”

The cat made a difficult expression—a very human one. Then, seeming to have thought of something, he waved his tail and jumped out of Monica’s lap. “All right, all right. In that case, why don’t I help you? You and me, we’ll get you over that shyness of yours.”

“Nero? Y-you don’t mean…?”

“Indeed I do.”

Nero hopped up onto a chair, then gave his tail a swish. Instantly, his form bent and squished until he became a clump of black shadow. Eventually, that shadow swelled, expanded, and took the shape of a human.

In the space of two blinks, the shadow gained color, taking on the hue of healthy skin, as though ink were being washed from it.

“See? How about this?”

The creature sitting on the chair was no longer a black cat—it was a young man who appeared to be in his midtwenties with black hair and golden eyes. His body was wrapped in an old-fashioned robe.

Of course, he wasn’t really a human. Nero had merely taken on the shape of one. Monica knew he was capable of assuming human form, and she’d seen him like this several times already.

Nevertheless, the fact that an adult man was now right in front of her caused Monica’s body to cower unconsciously.

She managed a couple of squeaks in protest. Her eyes, blank and turned downward as always, had opened as wide as they could, and her slender body trembled. She made herself as small as she could on the bed and covered her head with her hands as if to protect herself.

“No… I, no, I can’t… Nero, please… Go back to…to being a cat…”

Monica was on the verge of tears, and Nero pouted. The act made him look considerably younger. “No. Way. You manage to talk to Lou-lou-lou Lountatta just fine, don’t you?”

It appeared Nero had no intention of remembering Louis Miller’s name. Monica corrected him and defended herself.

“It’s Louis! And if I don’t answer him properly, he twists my ear!”

“Whoa… Is that guy for real? What a jerk. Don’t worry—I won’t twist your ear or anything. How’s that, huh? Pretty nice of me, right?”

Actually, Louis was the extreme one here. What Nero was proposing was normal.

Nero hummed with pride, then pressed further. “Now, be grateful, worship me, and say thank you!”

As he inched closer, Monica bent back, and her mouth flapped open and closed. “Eep…! Ah, ah… Th… Tha… Tha-th, th…”

After managing to squeeze out the first three letters, Monica’s mouth began to produce garbled, meaningless words mixed with heavy breathing, in and out. Out of context, she would have appeared ill.

Nero turned away like a sulking child. “Hmph. I get it. You’re not grateful that I snuck into the school and got all that information for you, huh? I don’t know if I can ever recover from this shock. I’m so hurt!”

“I—I didn’t— I’m so…”

“I want to hear thank you, not I’m sorry. Come on. You’ve got to thank your precious familiar properly, Master,” said Nero, legs dangling impolitely as he sat on the chair.

Monica squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her fists in her lap, and mustered up her voice. “Th-thank you, like always, Nero!”

“Hey, there you go! That’s the ticket. Next, say, Nero is the greatest!”

“Nero is the greatest!”

“Nero is so wonderful!”

“Nero is so wonderful!” repeated Monica, her eyes spinning at this point.

Nero scratched his cheek. “…I’m starting to feel like I’m brainwashing a good person.”

“Nero, you’re terrible…”

“Meow?! I was doing this for you… Hmm?” Nero’s golden eyes swiveled to look through the window before he proceeded to open it and lean his whole body out.

Monica hastily tugged the hem of his clothes. “N-Nero! It’s…it’s dangerous! You’ll fall…!”

“Hey, Monica, look. That guy in the boys’ dormitory yard looks suspicious.”

“…Huh?”

She got up next to him and leaned out the window herself, then directed her gaze toward the boys’ dormitory. She had a good view from her attic room window, but there was no moon tonight, so she couldn’t discern anything very far away.

Silently, she used a spell to improve her vision over long distances and in low light. It wouldn’t let her see through obstacles, though. That was why she’d had to lean out the window.

…He’s right… Someone’s in the yard of the boys’ dormitory…

The person was wearing a hooded cloak, so she couldn’t see their face. But she did get a glimpse of golden hair fluttering inside the hood.

Just then, a gust of wind swept off the figure’s hood.

From where she was, Monica could see only the back of the person’s head. Immediately, she burned the head’s dimensions into her memory.

The person stopped moving and pulled the hood back up, but the wind blew again, giving her a moment’s glimpse beneath the cloak. Underneath, they were wearing a fine frock coat. Monica visually measured the length of their torso and legs before the figure crossed through the dormitory yard and disappeared around a corner of the building.

Nero narrowed his eyes, frowning. “Can’t see him anymore. Any magecraft useful for this situation?”

“…He went behind the building, so I can’t track him any farther… But…”

Monica put a finger to her chin and closed her eyes. Numbers flew through her mind at a dizzying pace.

And those numbers told Monica one fact.

“I’ve… I’ve met that person before.”