Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 2 - Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

A Blissful Promise

Most of the students at Serendia Academy ate lunch in the student cafeteria inside the school building. A few would have their meal brought to their room, but that was fairly uncommon. Nearly all the students ate in the cafeteria.

…But in truth, Monica had yet to eat in the cafeteria even once. The reason was obvious—she was scared of the crowd. Instead, whenever lunchtime came around, she’d find a deserted spot and munch on the berries she’d put in her pocket.

On this day, though, she’d been invited by Casey and Lana to eat with them in the cafeteria, and so here she was. As she walked through the space for the first time, sandwiched between the two girls, her expression was frozen stiff with tension.

Whenever she heard the word cafeteria, Monica always thought of the one at Minerva’s. There, you would walk up to the counter, pick something off the menu, pay the price, and receive a wooden card with the meal you had ordered noted on it. You’d then show the card to the person at the meal counter and exchange it for your tray of food.

Monica had figured that Serendia’s student cafeteria would work the same way, but it was actually very different than what she’d imagined.

This cafeteria essentially worked like a high-class restaurant. Once you arrived, you were shown to a table by an attendant, who would then take your order and bring the food to your table. The price of the food was tallied up alongside tuition, so students didn’t pay in the cafeteria. Those who wished to do so could also have the food delivered to their room. Everything had been thought of.

It’s…amazing…, thought Monica. Many of the students at Minerva’s had been nobles as well, and its facilities had hardly been shabby—but Serendia was on an entirely different level. Clearly, no expense had been spared.

Monica fidgeted as she and the other girls were seated by the attendant. As she sat, someone quietly slid into the seat next to her. She’d been looking down the entire time, so she figured it was Lana or Casey. But when she raised her head, she saw them both sitting across from her.

…Then who had sat down next to her?

Awkwardly, she turned to look—and saw Claudia Ashley, with her black hair and depressing aura.

“What are you doing here?!” exclaimed Lana angrily, glaring at the newcomer.

Claudia leaned in closer to Monica.

“…What do you mean?” she said. “We’re friends, you know. Isn’t that right? …Monica dearest.”

Totally petrified, Monica let out a few strange sounds but was otherwise unable to speak.

Claudia brought her white-gloved fingers up to Monica’s face and stroked her cheek. Why did it feel like a snake slithering across her skin?

“…I did save your life, didn’t I?”

“Y-yes!”

“…And you are thankful, aren’t you?”

“Yes!”

“…Which means we’re friends, doesn’t it?”

“Yes!” Monica nodded shakily.

Claudia, confident in her victory, grinned.

Lana was enraged. “Don’t force her to say things like that!” she shouted.

“All right, all right,” said Casey in an attempt to pacify her before holding out the menu. “Let’s not be unsociable. Why don’t we put in our orders?”

“…Oh, but I wasn’t being unsociable,” pointed out Claudia. “That girl is simply flailing about of her own accord…isn’t she?”

Lana ground her teeth at the obviously provocative remark.

Casey looked between the two of them with an exasperated expression. “Both of you, settle down and let Monica order. Oh, and Monica, I would recommend this fried fish platter. It has an amazing special sauce. And if you like fish, I’d also recommend this sautéed dish here.”

“O-okay, then I’ll go with that…”

In truth, Monica earned a handsome income as one of the Seven Sages, so she had plenty of money. She didn’t particularly care what she got off the menu. In fact, she didn’t care much about food at all, so she was very grateful that someone had given her recommendations.

After a short wait, their food arrived. In front of Monica, the attendant placed a tray containing a grilled white fish sauté, bread, and soup.

From the sauté came the delicious scent of lemon and butter. Monica nervously tried a bite. The soft fish melted in her mouth.

Most of the fish she’d eaten while living in the mountains had been either salted down or smoked. She would either roast them over a flame or soak them in hot water to make a soup.

The texture of a sautéed fish was very new to her. After the powerful taste of butter filled her mouth, the refreshing, subtle flavor of the lemon tickled her tongue. It was amazing.

“…The fish is delicious,” she mumbled.

Lana, tearing off a piece of bread, nodded as if Monica’s reaction was to be expected. “You probably don’t get many chances to eat seafood in Kerbeck, huh?”

“N-no.” Monica hadn’t technically lived in Kerbeck, but her home was similarly landlocked, and she shook her head awkwardly.

Casey nodded, as if reflecting on this herself. “I’m the same. My homeland is also far from the sea, so if we ever eat fish, it’s mostly ones from the river that we roast,” she explained, splitting her bread in two, putting vegetables and fried fish between the pieces, and stuffing them into her mouth.

Her method of eating earned a frown from Claudia. “…That’s how laborers eat.”

“Everyone back home eats like this,” explained Casey, unfazed by the black-haired girl’s astonished look. “When we get a break from farmwork, that is. Of course, we don’t use fried fish—we usually use pickles.”

Monica envied how the other girl didn’t seem to care what others thought. She was strong.

Casey swallowed a big bite of her bread, then wiped her mouth with a napkin. She continued casually, “And where I come from, the nobles and laborers are the same. If we don’t all put in the work, we won’t have enough food to go around.”

“…I’m surprised you were able to come here,” remarked Claudia.

“You can go ahead and say what you’re thinking—you’re surprised such poor nobles were able to afford the tuition. I feel the same way. I really was lucky to be able to enroll here. Someone with a connection supported me.”

Rather than acting humble, Casey appeared nonchalant. She didn’t seem to consider her circumstances unfortunate.

But then, as if she was uncomfortable having those around her fuss over the matter, she grinned a little and changed the topic. “By the way, have you all decided what you want to do at the school festival next month?”

Claudia, face still gloomy, said, “…I’ll be in my room until the ball.” Her constant melancholy was ruining Casey’s efforts to change the mood.

Casey pursed her lips, then forced a smile. “Ha-ha… I didn’t expect to hear that… But I guess you are pretty popular, Lady Claudia. You’re one of the academy’s three beauties, after all.”

The academy’s three beauties—the term was unfamiliar to Monica. As she chewed on her bread, she tilted her head in confusion.

Lana lowered her voice and explained. “She means Lady Bridget Greyham, who is in her third year, and Lady Eliane Hyatt and Lady Claudia, who are first-year students.”

Monica had never heard the name Eliane, but Bridget and Claudia certainly possessed incredible beauty. The first was the flowery sort, with rich blond hair and amber eyes, while Claudia was more mysterious, with black hair and eyes the color of lapis lazuli. The two of them standing next to each other would probably attract even more attention.

Most of the students at Serendia Academy were the children of nobles, so many of them were already engaged to someone. This was also true of Claudia.

But some, even though—or perhaps because—they were engaged, wished to enjoy the ups and downs of romance free of such arrangements while they were still at school. For such people, the gorgeous Claudia was a target of admiration.

Because of that, there had been a whole line of boys asking her to the school festival’s ball the year before.

“…Neil is so busy with student council work that he has almost no time during the day to do what he wants,” droned Claudia. “There isn’t much point in my attending the festival.”

“Unbelievable!” exclaimed Lana, glowering. “You absolutely must see the play this year! The costumes are incredible! After all, I was the one who oversaw them. In fact, I insist it’s worth a look just for the outfits. Plus, we’re using fireworks in the production. It will be splendid!”

Lana puffed out her chest as she spoke, earning a pained grin from Casey. “Yeah, and that argument you had with the girl from the historical society was definitely something…”

Casey explained that Lana, who had been selected to take charge of costumes for the play—the highlight of the school festival—had gotten into an impassioned debate with a student from the historical society. The president of said society had insisted they should use costumes purely based in tradition, while Lana had argued they should use more flowery ones that featured a few of the latest trends. Their debate had raged for days, and in the end, the two had shaken hands like old war buddies.

Every year, as a tradition, Serendia Academy put on a play that told the story of how the first king founded the kingdom. It was a story everyone heard when they were young.

Around a thousand years ago, Ralph, the first king of the Kingdom of Ridill, had formed a contract with each of the seven Spirit Kings—fire, water, earth, lightning, wind, light, and darkness—to bring peace to a land ravaged by wicked dragons; he then borrowed the spirits’ power to slay the beasts. And with peace restored, he founded a kingdom.

Apparently, this play was the highlight of Serendia’s school festival every year.

“Monica, Casey, we should go see the play together on the day of the festival!” said Lana. “…Though it seems a certain someone will be lazing around in her room at that time.”

Her jab was aimed at Claudia, but the black-haired girl seemed not to notice.

Lana pouted and turned away from her before continuing. “After watching the play, we can listen to the music club perform and take a look at the charity bazaar. Oh, speaking of which—weren’t you putting up embroidery at the bazaar, Casey?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Casey nodded, taking a handkerchief out of her pocket. “Something like this.”

The handkerchief had small yellow flowers embroidered on it. Lana observed it closely, her face locking into the appraising stare of a merchant. “You have skill,” she said.

Monica looked at it, too, and gave her own straightforward impression. “I think…it’s really cute.”

Casey scratched her cheek in embarrassment and laughed. “Aha-ha. Thanks. I’m actually pretty competent at it. Yellow flowers symbolize happiness where I’m from, so we embroider them a lot. Once I meet the quota for the bazaar, would you like me to make you something, too, Monica?”

“Um, b-but I…,” stammered Monica, looking down apologetically.

Casey frowned a little. “Oh, do you not like flowers?”

Monica shook her head. “It’s just that you already promised to teach me horseback riding, so…I felt a little, um, guilty.”

Electives started next week, and Casey had already promised to help Monica with one of hers. I can’t possibly ask her to embroider something for me, Monica thought, still looking down at her lap.

Then Casey leaned across the table and started mussing up Monica’s hair. “No feeling guilty! I’m offering to do both because I want to!”

“Um, okay…,” said Monica quietly, nodding and playing with her fingers. “I’m looking forward to it. Um… The riding, and the embroidery, and the school festival… All of it.”

School festivals at Minerva’s had mainly involved everyone showing the results of their research. As a scholarship student, Monica had naturally been expected to submit something fairly significant, so she’d been busy writing essays and creating materials. Back then, she would hole up in a laboratory the day of the event and spend all her time preparing her exhibit as best she could, so she didn’t really have a sense of what a school festival was like.

But she could feel the excitement radiating from those around her—more than she’d felt at Minerva’s. Monica preferred to stay away from crowded places, and festivals were as crowded as you could get. And yet…

…I think…I’m actually a little excited.

There wasn’t anything in particular she wanted to do during the festival, but she hoped it would succeed—that it would go smoothly and without incident.

“Accountant Norton.”

Suddenly, someone called her name. She looked up and saw Cyril approaching their table. Automatically, she straightened up.

He handed a piece of paper to her. “We received advance notice from a contractor who will be bringing in materials after school today. As student council members, we need to be present, so come to the east gate once classes are over. This is a list of materials. Be sure to memorize it.”

“The…the east gate?” repeated Monica. That one was always closed and almost never saw use.

Cyril gave a short nod. “We have a lot of materials coming in. If every contractor came through the front gate, they’d obstruct the students.”

According to him, they were expecting three contractors, all at the same time. One would bring fabrics and clothing, another fireworks, and the last lumber. The wood was going to be the bulkiest of the three, so they were bringing it in through the east gate.

“His Royal Highness and Secretary Howard will be attending the fireworks, while Secretary Greyham and Officer Maywood will be looking after the clothing. That leaves us for the lumber.”

“A-all right,” said Monica with a nod.

Claudia, sitting next to her, took a sip of her tea, then muttered, “…How foolish of you to reveal student council plans to a third party.”

Cyril frowned and glared at his younger sister. “What’s wrong with informing other students of our plans?”

“…It seems Neil will be alone with Bridget Greyham…a woman other than me… I’ll have to get in their way.”

“Hold it right there!”

Claudia Ashley was the kind of person who would actually go through with what sounded to others like a mean-spirited joke—especially when it came to her fiancé, Neil.

“The contractors will be present for the checks as well,” continued Cyril. “They won’t be alone. So please do not cause any trouble for them!” He turned back to Monica. “…Also, Accountant Norton, we are in charge of a sizable amount of lumber. Report to the gate as soon as you can.”

“Yes, Lord Ashley.” Monica nodded as a pair of arms suddenly coiled around her head.

It was Claudia. She’d embraced her from behind, and now she whispered into her ear, “Oh, but you know my last name is Ashley, too.”

“Um, er, you’re Lady Claudia, so I call you that, and… Um, well…”

“…Oh my. She won’t even call you by your name, my dear brother. She calls me by my first name because we’re friends—but I suppose you two are merely acquaintances. It simply can’t be helped. I feel so bad for you, getting the cold shoulder from a younger student… Dearest elder brother.” Claudia smiled thinly as she looked up at Cyril.

Cyril grimaced.

Not for the first time, it occurred to Monica that these siblings didn’t seem to like each other very much. Lana and Casey appeared bothered by it, too, but they merely looked on in silence.

Monica began to panic. At this rate, it would look like she really was giving him the cold shoulder. “U-um, Lord Ashley… I mean Lord Cyril Ashley, um, well, you’re really good at your work, and you’re a great person, so, um, I respect you!”

Her frantic attempt to console him only drew Cyril’s blue-eyed glare. He was frightening.

“U-um, I-I-I-I’m sorry!” she stammered. “I know—I should have just called you ‘Vice President,’ right? I’m so sorry, Vice President Ashley!”

Cyril had actually been giving Claudia a bitter look, but from Monica’s vantage point, it appeared he was glaring at her. Tears formed in her eyes, and she started to shake.

Finally, he heaved a sigh. “…Just Cyril is fine.”

“Y-yes………Lord Cyril,” said Monica in a weak voice.

Claudia gave a short, breathy giggle in Monica’s ear. “Oh my! What a commotion my dear brother—a mere acquaintance—is making simply because you called him by his first name.”

“By the way, Claudia,” retorted Cyril, “I didn’t realize you’d finally made a friend.”

“I have indeed. Monica and I are on very friendly terms. Isn’t that right…Monica dearest?”

Monica’s head bobbed up and down.

Another crease appeared on Cyril’s forehead. “Accountant Norton, Claudia isn’t forcing you to do this, is she?”

“N-no, not at all…” Monica shook her head.

Claudia tightened her grip, pulling Monica even closer to her. For some reason, she smelled really good, though it did nothing to calm Monica’s pounding heart. What was the deal with this girl?

“…How cruel you are, to be envious of our friendship… You’re jealous that I’m so close with Monica, aren’t you?”

“Nothing could be further from the truth…!” spat Cyril.

“…Would you happen to have a mirror?” suggested Claudia. “You’re making a terrible face right now—it has envy written all over it. Perhaps you should take a look for yourself.”

Cyril was only getting more enraged. He was one second away from completely blowing his top.

Frantically, Monica raised her voice. “L-Lord Cyril, you look just the same as you always do! It’s all right!”

After all, he always looked this angry around Monica. She wasn’t lying. It was just like always.

“…Ah, so you’re envious of everyone all the time, then? Is that it, dearest brother?”

Monica yelped. “I…I didn’t mean it like that…!”

“Accountant Norton!” Cyril exclaimed. “If Claudia is bothering you, just say so!”

“Well, I mean, she’s—”

“…You don’t think I’m a bother, do you, Monica dearest?”

“N-nooooo…”

The two siblings were both attractive, one with silver hair and the other with black. Caught between them, Monica felt close to passing out.

Casey, who had been drinking her after-meal tea, seemed fed up with the whole thing. “…Lady Claudia is toying with both of them, isn’t she?” she murmured. The black-haired beauty had Monica and Cyril dancing in the palm of her hand.

Her personality is truly the worst, thought Lana, putting a hand to her temple and sighing.

Nero, Monica’s familiar, generally wandered around outside the school building during the day. Being a remarkably talented familiar, as he was, he certainly didn’t spend his time lying around and soaking in the sunlight.

No, right now he was eavesdropping on a class from just outside the window to further his study of humans—and to watch for any suspicious characters who might be near the second prince. A lot of outsiders were coming and going that day, so Nero was being especially cautious of Felix’s surroundings.

…The second prince has that contracted spirit with him, though, so he’s fairly well protected.

Nero was skilled in detecting mana, so he’d already noticed the spirit taking the form of a white lizard that was always in the prince’s pocket. It was probably a high water spirit. And come to think of it, thanks to the magecraft classes he’d been secretly listening in on recently, he was pretty sure that you had to be at least a high mage to form a contract with any spirit at all.

Does that make the prince a mage? he wondered.

Questions like these were best posed to Monica. After all, she was one of the Seven Sages—the top mages in the kingdom. He doubted anyone knew as much about magecraft as she did. As Nero was considering asking her to explain the workings of spirit contracts, he sensed something odd.

His whiskers twitched in concentration—he could sense a weak source of mana. It wasn’t unusual for him to sense mana, since they conducted practical magecraft classes at the academy. But it was in a very strange place this time… Is that a storehouse? Wonder what they’re bringing in.

Several contractors were entering and exiting a large storehouse situated in the western part of the campus, carrying in wooden crates. Nero’s skilled nose told him right away that their contents were explosive.

Monica said they were bringing things in for the school festival… Do humans use explosives for festivals? Or are they going to use them for construction? Nero, who had never seen fireworks before, watched them with suspicion.

The second prince himself—Monica’s charge—was overseeing the carrying of the crates. Next to him was that fellow with the droopy eyes and brown hair who was always saying mean things to Monica.

It…doesn’t seem like the prince and Droopy Eyes have noticed the mana coming from the storehouse. Nero had noticed it right away because of his keen magical senses, but apparently humans had a tougher time of it. And now that he was thinking about it, he remembered Monica saying that humans needed specific detection magecraft to manage it at all.

The mana he’d sensed in the storehouse had been faint. But was it just him, or was it growing, ever so slightly, as time passed?

…I have a really bad feeling about this.

Nero hopped down from a tree and raced to the east gate to find Monica.

When Monica headed to the east gate after class as instructed, she found that they were already bringing in the supplies. Cyril was next to the east storehouse giving instructions to the contractors.

She rushed over as fast as her clumsy legs would carry her. When Cyril spotted her, he frowned and yelled, “You’re late!”

“Lord…Cyril, I’m…I’m so…s-sorry…,” she stammered, wheezing. She had no stamina, and the short run here had left her completely out of breath.

Cyril knew how slow she was. He looked down at her as she gasped, and he massaged his temples. “Catch your breath already. You sound awful. They just started bringing things in a minute ago. This is going to take a while anyway.”

“A-all right…”

“Also, whoever’s in charge of performing arts was supposed to come here and check the supplies…” Cyril scanned his surroundings, then spotted a figure heading this way from the school building. “Looks like she’s here.”

Monica followed his gaze, then blinked in surprise. The girl coming toward them looked full of energy, her light-brown hair tied behind her head—it was Casey.

“Sorry for being late, sir!” she apologized. “I’m Casey Grove, a second-year. The one in charge of performing arts got into an argument with the period research team… I doubted they’d be done anytime soon, so I came here instead.”

“All right,” said Cyril. “It’s just a numbers check, so it doesn’t matter who does it.”

“Thank you, sir! And hello, Monica.”

Monica nodded at her. Considering how much trouble she had with strangers, seeing Casey was a big relief. Monica was shy, and while she never struggled with even the most involved numerical work, giving reports and instructions were all about interpersonal communication, and that was far more difficult for her.

As she sighed in relief, Cyril began his instructions. “I’m going to tell the contractors where to put the supplies. Accountant Norton, you check the list and make sure nothing’s missing.”

“Y-yes, sir.” Monica nodded.

Casey patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll help you out. We can check all the supplies together.”

“Th-thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” said Casey with a cheerful grin, taking the list. But after looking at the names and amounts of all the supplies, her smile disappeared, and her face tensed. “Whoa. That’s a lot of numbers…”

Monica was the type whose heart fluttered when she saw densely packed groups of numbers, but that was a trait most people didn’t seem to share. Casey was no exception; she grimaced and held the list out to Monica. “I’ll just count what’s actually here,” she said, “so can you match the numbers up to the list?”

“Yes!” Monica was great when it came to verification work.

With a wry grin, Casey gave the list back to her and jogged over to the supplies that had already been brought in.

Most of this shipment consisted of already processed lumber. It had come in a variety of forms—some were thin planks while others were cylindrical poles. A few of them had already been assembled into smaller structures. They were probably all props for the play.

Casey counted up each kind of lumber, and Monica compared what she said with what was written on the list. After repeating the process a few times, Monica looked up on a whim. Casey was nowhere to be found.

“…Huh?” she murmured, looking around for the other girl. “Casey?”

Then she heard Casey’s voice call out, “Over here!” from behind some of the lumber. They were done with most of the checks in the back of the storehouse, and Monica realized it might be a good idea to move a little closer to the entrance. Just as she took a step toward her friend, she heard the sound of something ripping.

…Huh?

A moment later, a stack of wooden beams toppled over. They had been tied together with rope and stood against the wall. The rope had torn.

“Monica, over here!” Casey repeated—right in the way of the falling lumber. She didn’t realize the danger she was in.

“Get out of the way!” yelled Cyril from outside the storehouse before quickly beginning to chant a spell.

Although he was probably trying to use magecraft to help her, the lumber was very nearly at the girl’s head. If someone had to chant, they wouldn’t make it in time.

Yes—if someone had to chant.

Please be in time…! thought Monica, immediately setting off an unchanted wind spell. She calculated where the lumber would fall based on its current position and angle, then used the minimum amount of force to knock it away from Casey.

“Eeeeek?!”

Casey’s shriek rang out at the same time as the lumber clattered to the floor.

Monica felt a cold sweat on her back… Did I make it?

“Are you two all right?!” yelled Cyril, his face pale as he ran to them. Monica nodded, then wobbled over to Casey.

She was sitting on the floor, but she seemed unhurt. Just as Monica had calculated, each length of wood had fallen slightly away from her. Even so, one wrong step and she could have been crushed. Casey was shaking. Her face was white as a sheet.

“Casey, are you…are you all right…?” Monica asked.

Casey nodded, her expression tense.

“Are either of you injured?!” demanded Cyril, looking between them both to check. Monica was fine, of course, and Casey was unhurt as well. Cyril, always one to make absolutely sure, ordered both of them to go to the infirmary. “I’ll take over here. We may need to follow up with the contractors about how this accident happened. I want both of you to take a break.”

“A-all right,” said Monica, extending a hand down to Casey. “Can you stand?” she asked.

Casey nodded, took her hand, and managed to get to her feet. Monica glanced one last time at the rope that had been holding the lumber together, bit her lip, and headed off together with Casey.

Casey had always been the kind of girl who would give you a cheerful, energetic smile. She was the reliable big sister who would take Monica’s hand and lead her ahead.

But now, she was practically clinging to Monica’s hand as they walked side by side. Monica could feel the cold sweat on the other girl’s palm—the way she was trembling. As Monica stared at her friend’s hand, Casey tried to smile, but her face was still pale.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “This is, um, kind of embarrassing, huh?”

“N-no, after something like that…anyone would have the same reaction,” Monica reassured her.

“Ha-ha. I suppose so.” Casey tried to laugh like she always did, but it came out sounding awkward. That, plus her drained face and unsteady, trembling hand, bore a hole in Monica’s heart.

The two of them walked down the school’s east hallway. They were still a little ways from the infirmary.

Monica bit her lip one more time; then she spoke. “The rope tying the wood together… I could see that it was cut by a blade.”

“Huh? Then it wasn’t just an accident…,” Casey said. “Was it torn from the start? Or was one of the contractors…going after someone?”

Monica slowly shook her head. “When I looked closely, I could see it was cut halfway through first so that it would tear later on its own. I calculated it—exactly how many seconds it would take for a cut of that depth to cause the rope to tear.” Explaining that she didn’t know the exact weight of the rope, so she could only make an estimate, she said, “It would have been somewhere from five to fifteen seconds.”

With a cut like that, the rope would completely tear after about ten seconds. In other words, it hadn’t been cut before being brought into the academy—someone inside the storehouse had done it. And Monica knew that they were now running inspections on anyone entering the academy, on account of the incident with the intruders, so the contractors couldn’t have brought in a blade. If they needed one, they’d have to fill out a form from the school and borrow it.

“…The contractors couldn’t have brought in a knife, so they couldn’t have…made the cut in the rope.”

All expression vanished from Casey’s face.

Monica’s throat tensed, almost hiccupping. “Did you…cut that rope, Casey?”

Casey’s hand slipped out of hers. She walked a few steps out in front of Monica, then stopped.

When she turned around, the same old smile she always had was back on her face.

“Aha-ha,” she laughed. “Guess you found me out… Yep, I was the one who made the cut.”

It was a shockingly straightforward confession, and Casey even took a small knife from her pocket and held it out.

“Ah…,” Monica breathed, her voice nearly imperceptible. “But…why…?”

“Because I don’t like you, so I wanted to have a little fun. I actually meant the wood to fall on you. But I messed it up, and it fell on me instead. Man, what a screwup.”

Monica could tell from her tone and the way she laughed that Casey was trying to sound normal. There was just something about it that made it all seem like an act. It felt like she was reading lines she’d come up with in advance. She spoke the words more quickly than she usually did, and her eyes never looked straight at Monica.

Casey was lying.

“You’re…lying,” said Monica.

“No I’m not. I’ve hated you from the moment I met you.”

Her words gouged at Monica’s heart. Any other time, she probably would have gotten teary-eyed and hung her head.

But this all felt so wrong that it overrode her normal response. “Casey, what are you hiding?” she asked.

“Oh, please. I’m not hiding anything. I hate you. I tried to do something mean to you. That’s it.” Casey’s lips twisted up into a cruel smile. “Do you remember when your tea leaves got thrown away during class?”

“…Yes.”

“I was the one who did it.”

Her indifferent tone, her unapologetic attitude—despite all of it, Monica felt no anger well up within her. She just felt something was very wrong—that, and she felt sad. She looked down.

“…I knew,” she murmured.

“Huh?” Casey blinked.

Monica gripped her skirt. “…People have always bullied me…and hid things from me… That’s why I never write my name on any of my belongings.”

When Monica had put her jars of leaves on the shelf, Casey had given her a piece of paper to mark them with. Casey had written her name on hers, but Monica hadn’t out of worry that someone would throw them out. So instead, she’d made the bellows-shaped folds so that only she would know whose it was.

“When I did that,” she continued, “…you were the only one who saw me.”

Always timid, always careful, Monica had made sure to position herself so others wouldn’t see her make the folds in the paper or place her jars on the shelf… In other words, Casey was the only one who could have known those jars were hers. What’s more, Casey didn’t have a servant, so she’d been in the room with the jars a little before Monica in order to prepare her tea. That was when she must have dumped out the leaves.

Casey appeared shocked by Monica’s accusation, but after a few moments, she pushed up her bangs and gave a hollow laugh.

“Aha-ha. I knew you were smart. I see… So you’ve known all this time.”

“But…you always helped me…so I thought…maybe I was mistaken…”

When Monica felt defeated after her tea leaves were thrown out, Casey had offered her own. And that wasn’t all—Casey had helped her practice dancing and invited her to lunch, too. She was always concerned for Monica. Always helping her out.

That was why Monica had ignored the truth for so long. She’d told herself she had to be mistaken.

As she stood there about to cry, Casey spoke.

“To be honest, I want to marry the prince and become queen in the future. I thought that if I was friends with you—the one he pays so much attention to—I would have more chances to get close to him. That was why I was so nice to you and why I pretended to be your friend… Ha-ha. I’m the worst, aren’t I?”

While her voice was the same one Monica knew so well, it sounded so flimsy. Her words seemed to make sense at face value. But Monica still felt something wasn’t right about her story, and the feeling wouldn’t go away.

Monica was terrible at social interaction. In the past, she’d never observed someone who was standing right in front of her so closely.

But after coming to this school and meeting so many new people, Monica had finally learned just a little of what it was like to know someone else.

And because of that, she could say for certain that Casey was hiding something.

She just couldn’t figure out what. Monica clutched the chest area of her uniform in frustration. What is she hiding? Her gut told her that she had to figure it out soon or there would be no going back.

Suddenly, one of the hallway windows burst open, and a man came flying through. “Monica!”

No student of Serendia Academy would ever do something as absurd as come in through a window, even if it was the first floor. And indeed, it was no student—it was Nero, transformed into a black-haired young man.

Although he usually wore his old-fashioned robe, he now wore Serendia’s boys’ uniform.

“…N-Ne…ro?” stammered Monica. “Your clothes…”

“Yeah, pretty awesome, right? I really put my best paw forward replicating these babies! The fabric might be a little thin, since I had to go by what I saw, but… Anyway, that’s not what I’m here for.” Nero’s sharp eyes turned westward, and he spoke quickly. “I detected weird mana from the west storehouse. And it’s steadily getting stronger.”

Casey had been surprised by the mysterious man and his unusual entrance, but when she heard those last words, the blood drained from her face.

Monica immediately cast a detection spell without chanting. She could sense it—from the direct opposite side of the school building, in the west storehouse. The signature was disguised to prevent detection; if Nero hadn’t pointed it out, she wouldn’t have noticed it.

Fire element. Absorbing and compressing the surrounding mana. Mana whirling like a vortex on the inside. This is… No!

Back when she’d attended Minerva’s, Monica had seen this particular mana flow before, in a magic-item class. It was an extremely lethal magic item meant for assassination, and its name was…

“…Spiralflame.”

The moment the word passed Monica’s lips, Casey’s eyes went wide. “How do you know that name, Monica…?” she squeaked.

Everything Casey had done up until now suddenly made perfect sense. They were currently bringing fireworks into the west storehouse. Felix and Elliott were the ones overseeing it.

Casey had a different reason for getting close to Monica and pretending to be her friend.

“You’re…trying to…assassinate the prince?”

Casey didn’t answer. But the tension on her face said everything.