Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 1 - Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Rolling Witch

Once she had agreed to search for the culprit behind both the falling sign and the falling flowerpot incidents, Monica headed straight for the rear gardens. The signboard used in the first crime had been taken away when the enrollment ceremony ended, so there were probably no more clues to be found there.

On the other hand, the shards of the flowerpot hadn’t been cleaned up—they were apparently still in the gardens, exactly where they had fallen. Nobody went back there, so there was no possibility of an unrelated third party coming in and disturbing the scene.

When Monica passed through the gate leading into the old gardens, the brush next to her rustled and swayed.

“Hey, Monica. How’s guarding the prince going?” Nero jumped out of the bush, then shook the leaves from his fur.

Monica squatted down and met his gaze. “Nero, what should I do?”

“Right. About what?”

“The person who protected me from the flowerpot yesterday ended up being the prince…” This unfortunate turn of events was all down to the fact that she hadn’t known what the person she was supposed to guard actually looked like.

Nero swung his tail, then looked up at Monica, eyes serious. “You’re his guard, right?”

“…Mm-hmm.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but he’s not supposed to be the one guarding you, is he?”

Nero was absolutely right. Monica began to flail her hands about pointlessly as she desperately defended herself. “B-but I made sure to protect him with my unchanted magecraft!”

“Yeah, yeah. So why’d you come here, then?”

“They think I’m working with the person who dropped the flowerpot… And they told me to find the real culprit if I wanted to prove my innocence…”

Nero stayed silent for a few long seconds, then looked up at Monica with a very humanlike expression of exasperation. “You’re his guard, right?”

“…Yes.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s not a good sign if you’re being treated like his assassin, is it?”

Monica didn’t even have an answer to that.

“…Oh, I’m just a Sage who got in from the waiting list… I’m incompetent. A shut-in… I want to go back to my cabin already,” she whimpered.

Nero heaved a sigh. “You’re really a handful, Master. Hey, cheer up. Do you want me to squeeze you with my paws?”

“…Yes.”

Monica sniffled and pulled Nero to her face. The cat held up his front paws and used the pads to squish her cheeks. The soft sensation allowed her to regain a little calmness.

Nero waited for Monica to stop crying, then asked, “So you’re finding the culprit. What do we do first?”

“Mm-hmm. First, I want to figure out where the flowerpot fell from.”

The pot hadn’t been cleaned up after the previous day’s incident; its shards lay scattered across the ground in the same position as before. Monica picked up a few of them.

“…It looks like it was a large flowerpot for group planting. It was round, approximately this big…” When she said “this big,” she used her arms to form a ring.

Nero’s ears twitched as he looked at Monica dubiously. “How can you tell what shape it was from just the fragments?”

She looked at him, confused. “That’s all you need, though, isn’t it?”

“No!”

“Huh,” she murmured, tilting her head as she transferred the shards in her hand to her other palm. With just what she was able to stack on one hand, she could make a good guess as to the flowerpot’s weight. By looking at the scattered shards, she had calculated the pot’s approximate size, shape, and weight.

No dirt on the pot’s shards. It was empty—either unused or cleaned in advance…

Envisioning the flowerpot before it had broken, Monica slowly lifted her head to look at the school building. Serendia Academy had many flower-adorned balconies, so most of them were lined with flowerpots. In fact, ones without them were fairly rare. It made sense that Felix had wanted her to investigate.

There was little to no wind yesterday. And taking into account the resistance from the wind spell I used… Monica gauged the school building’s height with her eyes, then calculated the flowerpot’s rate of descent. The balcony’s handrails were somewhat high, so it would have been difficult for someone to throw it down with force. It seemed fair to assume that they had leaned over the railing, then simply let go.

The pot landed on soil, which would have cushioned it somewhat. But the resulting shards are this small, and they’re spread out over a large area…

There would be a margin of error, but her look at the flowerpot’s remains had given her a general idea of which balcony it had been dropped from.

Right there. Fourth floor, the second balcony from the right.

As she was confirming the room’s location, Nero used his front paw to tug at the hem of Monica’s skirt. “Monica, I want to go inside the school, too.”

“…You can’t. If you’re discovered, they’ll throw you out.”

“Like they’d ever do that. Even if they did find me, I’m too charming for silly humans to resist.”

Maybe the academy’s cat lovers would fawn over him, but if someone strict like Mr. Thornlee found him, he’d definitely throw Nero out.

“You can’t, okay?” repeated Monica before setting off toward the school building to investigate the balcony.

* * *

“Oh, what are you doing here?”

As Monica was climbing the stairs inside the building, she heard a familiar voice from below her. She stopped and turned around. Lana, the classmate who had done her hair in braids earlier, was starting up the stairs, her own flaxen hair swaying.

Wh-what should I do? What do I tell her…? I should keep it a secret that I was asked to investigate the balcony, right? If I just tell her I’m running an errand—would that be all right, I wonder?

Monica stopped where she was, then looked down and started twiddling her fingers. Without a clever excuse, all she could do was mutter ums and ahs.

Lana looked at her, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “After you were called to the student council room, you never came back. I was worried.”

“…Huh?”

A classmate had been worried about her. That was all it took to make Monica’s heart do a little leap. Before she realized it, her expression had softened. Covering her cheeks with her hands, she said awkwardly, “Um, well… They asked me to, um, run a little errand…”

As Monica’s gaze swam around the hallway, Lana looked at her, confused. It was probably strange that a student council member would ask a new student like her for a favor.

“Oh. Where are you going?” Lana asked.

“Um… T-to the fourth floor. The second classroom from the end…”

“Oh, that would be music room two. You’ll want to come this way, then.”

Lana started back down the stairs, beckoning for Monica to follow. Why was she going down? Didn’t they need to climb the stairs to get to the fourth floor? Monica thought it was strange but followed the other girl, who gave a sniff of pride.

“At this time of day, this hallway gets crowded because classes are all switching rooms. It’s faster to go this way.”

Had she surmised how bad Monica was with crowds, or was this a coincidence? Either way, Monica was extremely grateful for the proposal. “Th… Thank phew…”

She’d psyched herself up to thank Lana, only to trip over her words as always. Her face went bright red.

Lana couldn’t help but start laughing. “You’re so weird!” She giggled, clearly entertained—somewhat teasing but still familiar. There wasn’t any nastiness in her smile. “You’re welcome!” she replied, walking off again with a lightness in her step. “If you need to use the stairs at this time of day, you’re better off using the ones to the east. The powder room on this side also tends to be much less crowded.”

“…The powder room?”

It didn’t make much sense to Monica, but apparently Serendia Academy had several rooms for the female students to go and fix their makeup. It struck her yet again that this was a school for the children of nobles.

I can’t imagine ever using a room like that…, she thought as Lana suddenly stopped in front of her. The other girl’s gaze was on the east staircase. Though they’d supposedly been about to climb those very stairs to get to the music room, Lana was looking up at the landing and scowling, her face sour. On the landing were a few female students having a conversation. One of them seemed to be surrounded by the others.

…Oh, that person… She’s…

The one in the middle, eyes troubled and downcast, was the girl with hazelnut-colored hair—Selma Karsh. She was the class health officer who had come to check on Monica after she’d been brought to the infirmary. Around the petite Selma were three other female students. The apparent leader—a girl with caramel hair—had a voice that carried above the others.

“Hey, did you hear the rumors? They’re saying Aaron came down with a sudden illness and has to leave school. I heard he used to visit all sorts of nasty shops. I’ll bet he got some horrible disease from one of them, don’t you think? That’s just awful, Selma! And after everything you’ve done for him!”

The other two girls put their fans up to hide their mouths and repeated, “Oh, I feel so bad” and “Yes, how terrible for you.” But though they said those things, their lips were turned up in disdainful grins behind the fans.

Lana, looking at the caramel-haired leader, murmured sourly, “That would be Caroline.” Apparently, Lana knew the girl—but it was clear from her expression that their relationship was not a friendly one.

“Hey, Selma. My family is hosting a ball soon. I’ll be sure to invite you!”

“Oh my! That’s a wonderful idea, Lady Caroline! The scars of lost love can only be soothed by a new one, after all!”

“And your engagement to Aaron has fallen through anyway, right? You should look for someone else, Selma—someone good!”

At that suggestion from one of her followers, Caroline waved her folding fan and laughed as she gazed at Selma’s face.

“Then why not my uncle, perhaps?” she said. “He’s looking for a new wife. He’s more than thirty years older than you, but he’s handsome and rich.”

Selma wasn’t saying anything at this point. She simply clenched her gloved fists, stayed silent, and looked down.

Lana turned back to Monica and whispered in her ear, “Best to walk right past them and not get involved. Let’s go, okay?”

Lana took the lead, swiftly moving up the stairs, and Monica hurried after her. Once Lana got to the landing, she said to Caroline, who was blocking the stairs, “Would you mind letting us pass?”

“Oh? Well, if it isn’t Lana Colette, daughter of the new baron. Awful manners, as usual. My family is much higher in rank and has a much richer history than yours, you know. I’d think someone like you would at least greet me properly.”

At Caroline’s provocation, Lana’s slender eyebrows shot up. “I had no idea blocking the stairs to have a lengthy conversation was proper manners for a high-ranking family. Anyway, would you mind getting lost already? Ugh, even a fleeing cow moves when its master tugs on the reins… Oh, but I apologize. Your butt is probably so heavy, you don’t want to move.”

“Who did you just call a cow?!” Caroline, now furious, raised a hand and pushed on Lana’s shoulder. Lana gave a small yelp and teetered. But since she was already near the landing, she got through with just that—a teeter.

She did, however, bump Monica behind her, knocking her off-balance. The next thing Monica knew, her body had tilted, and she was falling through the air.

“Monica!” Lana turned and held out a hand, but she couldn’t reach.

I’m…falling…

At that moment, Monica’s thoughts started racing at an amazing speed.

If I use wind magecraft inside, they’ll discover I’m a mage. Should I use a defensive barrier around myself? No, I can’t. The fall would look too unnatural… Then… Then I…

She immediately put up an invisible defensive barrier without using a chant—but not on her own body. Instead, she used it to fill in the spaces created by the steps.

By using it to make the stairs into a simple slanted plane, she wouldn’t suffer much damage even if she hit the ground. She’d used every bit of her precise mana control, said to be the greatest in the kingdom, to extend the barrier over the staircase, and it was onto that barrier that she fell.

As she’d calculated, because she was falling on a flat plane, it didn’t hurt that much. It didn’t hurt, but…

Stairs had different levels—but her slanted path had none. Which, then, would result in greater momentum?

…It went without saying that the answer was the latter. And as was to be expected, Monica ended up rolling, quickly and with great force.

“Hee-yaaaahhhhhhhhh!”

It was a miracle she didn’t bite her tongue at the speed she tumbled down the stairs. The momentum carried her past the stairs and across the floor until she collided with a passing male student.

Monica gave a muffled yelp, which overlapped with a low groan—the voice of whoever it was she’d crashed into. Eyes welling with tears, she got up and apologized profusely to the male student, who was now seated on his rear. “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

The person she’d struck was a young man with silver hair tied behind his head. Monica had seen him once before, but her mind was too panicked to process such things at the moment.

“…Are you hurt?” he asked, holding out a hand to try and help her up.

Monica, not even noticing the hand, continued rattling off her apologies. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for bothering you!”

“……”

The male student wordlessly looked down at Monica. Eventually, his fingers reached for her head. Out of reflex, she put her hands over her head in defense—she thought he was going to hit her. But instead, all his fingers did was gently part her bangs.

“Your forehead is a little red. Did you hit it? Does it hurt anywhere else?”

Monica squeaked out a few incomprehensible sounds, then finally realized the young man wasn’t trying to attack her. Far from it—he was worried about her. She felt his fingertips on her forehead; they were just a little chilly.

…? Ice magecraft? But he hasn’t chanted… Wait, then is his mana leaking out unconsciously?

As Monica was considering this idea, Lana rushed down the staircase toward her. Monica was glad she’d undone the barrier on the stairs so quickly. Otherwise, Lana would have slid down and fallen right after her. She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hey! A-are you okay?!” exclaimed Lana.

“…Ah, I… Yes…” Monica nodded.

Lana heaved a deep sigh of relief. She’d been worried about Monica’s safety, too. As Monica wondered whether she was supposed to say thank you for being considerate or I’m sorry for worrying you, the silver-haired boy interrupted.

“What’s going on here anyway?” he asked, frowning.

Monica finally remembered who the boy was. He’d used an ice spell to silence Aaron O’Brien back when he’d been causing a scene.

“That’s the vice president of the student council, Lord Cyril Ashley,” whispered Lana into her ear. That made sense—this young man must have been the “worrywart vice president” Felix had mentioned.

“Can anyone here explain what’s going on?” asked Cyril.

Caroline, who was still on the staircase landing, descended the stairs with a relaxed gait, her expression an easy, confident smile. “Lady Lana Colette here was goofing off and pushed a fellow student off the stairs.”

“What?!” shouted Lana, aghast. Not only did Caroline show no sign of guilt, she was trying to foist the blame onto someone else. “You were the one who pushed me! Right into Monica!”

“Oh?! Are you trying to shift the responsibility onto me? That’s some nerve for a child of the nouveau riche.”

The two girls with Caroline voiced their agreement. Reassured, Caroline raised the corners of her lips and cast her upturned gaze at Cyril. “Naturally, Lord Ashley, you would believe me—a member of the historic and respected House Norn—over this newcomer girl, right?”

Lana ground her teeth at Caroline’s words.

Monica knew that even if neither she nor Lana was in the wrong, if someone with a higher position said they were at fault, it would be taken as the truth.

“…E-excuse me…!” said Monica nervously.

Cyril’s eyes swiveled over to Monica, his arms now folded. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but the air around them seemed to have chilled. His gaze caused her to cower and look down.

This young man had been worried about Monica after she’d fallen down the stairs. But if she was to accuse Caroline of wrongdoing, he probably wouldn’t listen. He was a member of the student council—they were in charge of keeping order at the academy. This school reflected noble society, and that meant social status was everything.

There isn’t anything I could say to change this… Monica looked with resignation at Cyril, who stood in front of her. She bit her lip.

But still…

If Caroline had claimed not to know what had happened, if she’d only played the innocent, Monica would have given up and accepted it. But she’d laid the blame on Lana instead. If she did nothing, Lana would be treated as the instigator.

She would be accused of a crime she didn’t commit.

That’s something…I just can’t let happen… Monica opened her mouth; the blood had drained from her lips. Please don’t give out on me now, throat! she pleaded to herself, on the verge of tears, before finally speaking.

“I—I only slipped and fell! That’s…that’s all…!”

She might not have been able to accuse Caroline, but she could at least remove the blame from Lana. She appealed to Cyril with her whole heart.

“Nobody was at fault… It’s…it was just me being clumsy! I’m sorry!” she finished, bowing her head.

“Wait a minute—!” exclaimed Lana, dissatisfied.

But Monica quickly cut her off. “So! Um, it’s all…all fine now! I-I’m sorry for, um, causing such a scene…!”

Then, figuring that without the victim in the picture, the situation would dissolve, she dashed up the stairs, feet clomping against the steps, and left the scene.

* * *

After flying up the stairs, Monica paused to catch her breath—she was practically wheezing by this time. The sound of her teeth chattering was unbearable.

…It’s all right. It’s all right. If I endure it, if I don’t say anything unnecessary, things will work out…

She brushed a little bit of dirt off her skirt hem from when she’d fallen down the stairs, then readjusted her gloves, which had wriggled out of place. For now, she wanted to focus on searching for the assassin who was after Felix. The flowerpot incident had clearly been premeditated. A true assassination attempt. As his bodyguard, she couldn’t overlook it.

But why was the culprit after the prince…?

Felix and the others appeared to believe that an accomplice of Aaron O’Brien’s, who had committed an injustice, was acting out of spite. That didn’t sound quite right to Monica, though.

Aaron O’Brien had implied that he’d had an accomplice. Why, then, would that accomplice not have attempted to get rid of Aaron instead, to make sure he didn’t talk?

It’s like an incomplete equation, full of holes…

She needed more information to fill in the gaps. She told herself that for now, she simply needed to gather that info. When she reached the room she had been seeking—music room two on the fourth floor of the eastern building—she came to a stop.

She could hear the notes of a piano from within. Someone was playing inside. Would they get mad at her if she entered without asking? Still, she wanted to carry out her investigation as soon as possible.

After some internal conflict, she lightly knocked on the door, then opened it.

The music room was elegant, like a little salon, and had a fine-looking piano inside. The piano was an instrument for the upper classes—far removed from the reach of the commoners. Sitting at that piano, her fingers sliding over the keys, was a female student with blond ringlets. Judging by the color of the scarf at her collar, she was a third-year in the advanced course.

The girl stopped playing, then said to Monica without shifting her gaze, “I’m using this room at the moment. If you need something, please come back later.”

“U-um, I’m sorry. The balcony, um… I, er, left something on it…”

The blond young lady simply flipped through her score, then said, almost as if to herself, “Make it quick, please.”

Monica mumbled a word of thanks and rushed out onto the balcony. As she’d expected, there were a number of flowerpots there. They looked similar to the one dropped in the rear gardens, too.

…Three pots have been planted with things already, and…

Just one of the flowerpots was empty, and it was sitting upside down near the edge of the balcony. Monica squatted to look at it. She picked it up, but there was nothing inside. It really was just an empty flowerpot turned upside down.

Why would this flowerpot be upside down and the others right side up? she wondered, returning the pot to its original position. The upside-down pot was filthy, and the dirt got onto her gloves. She brushed some of it off, but the rest stuck fast. She’d have to wash her gloves as soon as she got back to her dorm room. She didn’t have a spare pair.

Worrying about her dirty gloves, she looked over at the balcony railing. Since it was meant to prevent people from falling off, it was pretty high. Monica, being small and weak, would have had a difficult time trying to lift a heavy flowerpot over the railing to drop it from up here.

Wait. What if…?

Monica stood for a while in thought, and eventually the sounds of the piano ceased. Coming to, she looked back toward the music room. The female student who had been sitting at the piano was now looking at her, expression cold.

A closer look revealed the girl to be extremely pretty. Even Monica, who didn’t have a good sense of the difference between attractive and unattractive, could tell she was quite the beauty.

As Monica flinched away from the force of her stunning features, the girl closed the piano lid and said, “I’m going back to class. I’d like to lock up.”

“Oh, I-I’m sorry! I’ll leave!”

Monica locked the door connecting the music room to the balcony. Then, as the pretty student was locking the piano, Monica timidly asked, “Um, is this room…usually locked?”

“In order to use one of the music rooms, you have to borrow a key from the teachers’ office. To use this one, you would need to submit an application for music room two.”

Monica quietly muttered her thanks, then hurried out of the music room.

The girl’s amber eyes remained fixed on her back as it disappeared down the hallway.

* * *

The accounting records, nonsensical and messed up as they now were, had truly been Aaron O’Brien’s parting gift to the student council. As Felix silently looked back over the heavily altered books, Elliott, who had been reviewing receipts, said conversationally, “We should make a bet. How long until the little squirrel admits defeat? I give her three days.”

“You don’t like her?”

It was true that he had little faith in Monica Norton, but Elliott’s attitude toward her was obvious.

Elliott sniffed. “No, I don’t. She’s not a noble, no matter how you look at her… For her to attend this academy at all is conceit of the highest order.” He spoke casually, but a very real distaste was evident in his voice. Looking over at Felix, he lowered his voice and said, “I can’t stand commoners who don’t know their place.”

“Yes, I know.”

Most of the girls who went to Serendia Academy were from noble families, but there were still plenty from the lesser nobility and below. Generally, as long as you could afford the tuition, you could enroll. But many, including Elliott, didn’t think highly of this state of affairs.

“Still,” remarked Felix, “don’t you think you’re being quite mean? Just how many classrooms face the rear gardens? I really doubt a new student like her would be able to investigate all of them.”

“It’s still better than us doing it and being noticed. And as for sneaking out of your room at night…well, that doesn’t sound like the behavior of a prince.”

Elliott’s words were thorned as he narrowed his droopy eyes at Felix. He probably wasn’t happy that Felix had acted alone.

But Felix parried his critical stare with a cool look and slid a feathered pen across the page in front of him. “I want to deal with all academy trouble in as secret a manner as possible. We don’t want Duke Clockford intervening, after all.”

Duke Clockford was Felix’s maternal grandfather and one of the most influential nobles in the kingdom, and Serendia Academy was under his jurisdiction. If a major incident occurred here, it would be like rubbing dirt in the duke’s face—something he could absolutely not allow. Even if others called him the duke’s lapdog, Felix could never, ever disobey him.

“And most importantly… As Felix Arc Ridill, I can’t have people thinking I lack the competence to handle such a situation.”

As Elliott was about to respond, there came a soft knocking from the student council room door. After calling out, “Please come in,” the door slowly opened to reveal a small girl.

It was Monica Norton. The new second-year student in the advanced course. A scrawny girl, nothing about her—not her appearance or her behavior—fit the mold of the rest of Serendia Academy.

Feeling some pity for the girl after Elliott’s bullying, Felix gently called out to her. “Hello, Lady Norton. Made any progress?”

It had been only a few hours, so progress was unlikely. Felix hadn’t been expecting anything from the girl in the first place.

But this small girl—this brand-new student—fiddled with her fingers and said in a very, very quiet voice:

“I know…who the culprit is.”