Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 2 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Round and Round

Lindsey Pail was seated at her desk in the faculty room, her head in her hands.

She was the teacher responsible for ballroom dancing, an essential skill for young nobles. Usually, students who enrolled at the academy knew how to dance to some degree right from the start. Of course, there were those who weren’t great at it, but they at least knew the fundamentals. Because of that, Lindsey had never had too much trouble teaching them.

Unfortunately, this year, there were two problem children in the second year of the advanced course. Neither of them had any grasp of even the most basic concepts, and when asked to show their skills, their attempt at something (it certainly couldn’t be called dancing), dumbfounded both their classmates and Lindsey herself.

The problem students’ names were Glenn Dudley and Monica Norton, and both of them had transferred in this year.

“I think we’re going a little too slow for this tempo, so it’s time to speed up!”

“Noooooooooooooo! Stopppppppppppp!”

Once classes were finished, the dance room filled with the shouts of an energetic boy and the shrieks of a miserable girl.

The boy, Glenn, was stepping at double the tempo he was supposed to, while the girl, Monica, was being swung around all over the place.

“And now we turn!”

Glen, a well-built young man, flung Monica’s small body into a vigorous spin.

This was no longer a dance—it was a large dog running around to its heart’s content while its owner tried to hold the leash but got pulled around instead.

The short boy who had been playing the piano, Neil, was unable to watch any longer and called out, “Excuse me! Stop for a second! Please stop!”

Glenn immediately came to a halt—but his momentum sent Monica sprawling to the floor.

“Monicaaaaa!” shouted Glenn, running over and picking her up in his arms. He shook her slender shoulders. “Ahhhh! I’m sorry! Are you all right?!”

“Ple…please don’t…shake me right now…haaah…”

Monica had already sustained severe damage to the semicircular canals of her inner ear, no thanks to an overly energetic Glenn shouting right in her face, and now she was being furiously shaken. Eventually, her eyes rolled back into her head and she stopped moving.

Casey had watched the whole thing from her spot near the wall. She shook her head, making her ponytail sway, and sighed.

“…That was even worse than before in class,” she remarked.

Serendia Academy’s dance classes were held jointly with two classes participating at a time. Partners were generally decided by the teacher, and their teacher had partnered Monica with Glenn. The height difference between the two of them was obvious, but Ms. Pail’s idea was apparently to first pair up the transfer students and gauge their dancing abilities.

Monica considered herself lucky to have Glenn as a partner, since she already knew him. If she’d been with someone she’d never met, she’d be doing even worse.

“Looks like you’re my partner, Monica! Pleased to dance with ya!”

“Um, y-yes, thank…phew!”

But even with a degree of familiarity, Monica found it difficult to look at a person’s face while talking to them. And this tendency was even more extreme when it came to men.

Nevertheless, Glenn showed no signs of having taken offense. He pulled Monica by the hand and boldly strode out onto the dance floor.

Judging by his unwavering confidence, Monica had assumed he was good at dancing.

However…a moment later, with an utterly affable smile, he’d said, “I’ve never done ballroom dancing before, so I’ll just try and mimic everyone else!”

By the time Monica had thought, You’re kidding, right? she was already being thrown around.

Thus, the two of them had been ordered to take a retest. If they failed the retest, they would have to take makeup classes every day after school until the school festival. In the worst-case scenario, they might even have to take special classes during winter break.

That would present an obstacle to both Monica’s work with the student council and her mission to guard the second prince.

If I can’t continue my mission because of something like this, Mr. Louis will be so mad at meeee!

Monica had to pass the retest no matter what.

“Oof… My head is still spinning…”

After finally regaining consciousness, Monica sat on the floor holding her head as Casey bent down next to her and peered into her face with worry.

“Monica, are you okay?” she asked. “Can you stand?”

“Ooh… Yes, I think, um, I’m fine.”

Ever since the incident with the thieves dressed as Abbott Company merchants, Casey had seemed to take an interest in Monica and talked to her frequently.

Casey’s class shared their dance period with Monica’s, and the caring girl had offered to give her some instruction. Casey was a good enough dancer to earn praise from Ms. Pail. Considering how easily she’d leaped onto the runaway cart, it made sense—she had good motor skills.

Monica, on the other hand, not only had slow reflexes from birth but was terribly out of shape as a result of all the time she’d spent cooped up in her mountain cabin. She was so clumsy, she’d trip over nothing at all.

But despite her lack of athleticism, she’d been preparing for dance class in her own way for the past few days.

“Ugh… I read so many books on dancing, too… The ternary system of waltzes… I understand it logically, and yet…”

Patting Monica on the head as she whimpered, Casey gave a pained smile. “Monica, you have to learn to dance by dancing… Also, it’s called three-part time.” After comforting the distraught Monica, she turned to Glenn. “I knew Monica struggled with this kind of thing, but you’re something else yourself. What was that?”

“Well, Ms. Pail said boys are supposed to take the lead,” he replied, “so I tried to take the lead in my own way. I wonder what went wrong?”

Thoughtlessly whipping Monica around was apparently his version of “taking the lead.” As Glenn earnestly pondered the situation, Neil gave a dry laugh and said, “There’s a big difference between taking the lead and flinging around your partner, I think…”

“You know,” declared Glenn, full of confidence, “I thought about it, and the way Ms. Pail dances is super sharp and precise, isn’t it?! I think that’s what I’m missing!”

Neil, his expression earnest, said, “Glenn, I think there might be something a little more important than that.”

He was right. Glenn had excellent motor skills, but he danced to the beat of his own drum. Meanwhile, in addition to her hopeless motor skills, Monica had a bad habit of overthinking things.

Casey and Neil—their stand-in instructors—exchanged glances and sighed. “For now, let’s change pairs and practice until you get the steps down, all right? I’ll go with Glenn. We’re similar in height, so it should be easier.”

“Then I’ll pair up with Lady Norton.” Neil nodded before looking at the piano and frowning a bit, seeming troubled. “But then…we don’t have anyone to play the music.”

The dance room had a piano in it, and during tests, the students would dance as someone played. The only other person Monica knew who could play piano was Bridget Greyham, but she wasn’t nearly courageous enough to ask Bridget to play for them.

She barely knew anyone at this academy to begin with. As she stared at the floor, feeling guilty for being useless, the door to the dance room flew open with a bang.

“Oh! Well, in that case, I suppose there is no choice but for me to play the piano for you!”

Using a finger to twirl her flaxen hair, Lana stepped inside. Apparently, she’d been eavesdropping on them from behind the door.

Glenn, Neil, and Casey all looked surprised at the sudden new arrival.

“She a friend of yours, Monica?” asked Glenn

“…Oh… Yes…” Monica nodded, before suddenly going pale.

Wait, will it cause her trouble if I start acting like she’s my friend…? What should I do…?

If Lana made an unpleasant face or frowned even a little… Monica looked down as she imagined the sight.

Lana stomped over, sullenly turned her cheek, and said, “That’s right! And I am going to help my friend, so you’d better be grateful!”

Trembling, Monica looked up at Lana.

She didn’t look troubled at all. In fact, she looked like she was trying to hold back a big grin.

Despite herself, Monica felt the corners of her mouth turn up.

“…Thanks, Lana,” she said in a weak voice, squeezing her hand against her chest over her uniform—she felt that if she didn’t constrain it, her heart might leap out in joy.

The tinkle of a piano could be heard from the dance room. As she passed by on her way through the hall, Lindsey Pail stopped and peeked in through a gap in the door.

…My, my, my!

Inside were two students—the ones behind in class and the very subjects of her worries—receiving help from their friends and doing their best to learn the steps.

Their moves were laughably awkward, just like Lindsey’s had been when she was young and slacking off from her own dance classes!

Listen, Lindsey. Once you make your first appearance in high society, nobody is going to help you anymore.

Her older sister had given her that warning more times than she could count, but young Lindsey had never listened, instead embarrassing herself during dance classes at her all-girls school.

All-girls schools attended by nobles were places of learning, but they doubled as social spaces. Poor dancers would be laughed at from the shadows, and that was it. Nobody would help her. Lindsey had been forced to practice on her own, in secret.

But just beyond this door were boys and girls, joining hands and doing their best to teach each other how to dance.

“……Hee-hee.” Lindsey put a hand to her lips and, with a small smile, quietly closed the door to the dance room.

“I heard from Officer Maywood that you were practicing dance,” said Felix with a smile when Monica showed up at the student council room later than usual.

Monica had completely forgotten to inform Felix that she’d be practicing dance after class, but the ever-considerate Neil must have contacted him. Neil didn’t stand out much, but he always did a thorough job.

Everyone else was already present except for Elliott, who was nowhere to be seen. Apparently, he’d gone to check in with the real Abbott Company about the intruders who had impersonated them.

As Monica thought about what kind of remark Elliott might have made had he been here, Felix addressed Neil. “How did the practice go? Will she be able to pass?”

Neil let his eyes drift from right to left. It wasn’t hot, but sweat broke out on his forehead.

“U-ummm… That really depends…on how much more work she does.”

“Prince,” said Cyril sternly, “if a softie like Officer Maywood is putting it like that, her dancing must be a total disaster.” He was working on a separate task off to the side as he spoke.

Monica couldn’t reply and merely hunched over, dejected.

Cyril was right—that day’s session had been terrible. They’d started by practicing the basic steps, but Monica had gotten her feet tangled and fallen about one out of every three attempts. Casey had told her it was best to learn by doing, but her body didn’t seem to be learning anything at all.

At least with mathematics, she silently lamented, she could get by with memorization. Meanwhile, Bridget hid her mouth behind her folding fan and shot Monica a cold look. “To think a member of this council—all of whom should be model students—is falling behind in class and even needs to take a retest. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“I…I’m, I’m sor—”

“Do you understand how much trouble you’re causing Officer Maywood?” she interrupted.

Monica was causing trouble for someone—hearing those words froze her in place. Her partner, Glenn, had been awful at the beginning, but he had good motor skills, so he’d probably master the steps quickly.

And then Monica would be causing trouble for Glenn, too. If he failed because he happened to be paired up with Monica…

“Um, I don’t consider it any trouble at all…,” interrupted Neil modestly.

Bridget loudly closed her folding fan. Then her amber eyes went to Felix. Her words were biting. “Sir, a student council member failing a simple ballroom dancing test sets a terrible example for the other students. What are your thoughts on this matter? …At this rate, it will reflect badly on the one who appointed her, don’t you think?”

Felix had been the one to appoint Monica as their accountant, despite all her flaws. So if Monica caused a problem, it would be his responsibility as the one who had chosen her.

Fear and pressure threatened to crush Monica’s small body. I’m sorry for causing you trouble! I’ll work hard! I’ll do my absolute best! Please forgive me! Although many words were whirling around in her head at the moment, none of them made it out of her throat; she just opened and closed her mouth without saying anything.

Felix looked at Bridget and offered a smooth smile. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “I have high hopes for Lady Norton. I know she’ll live up to my expectations. Isn’t that right, Lady Norton?”

His last words had been directed at Monica—and with the sweetest smile anyone could imagine.

No, I can’t do it…, she shrieked in her mind, barely managing to swallow back the words. If a member of the royal family like Felix had expectations of her, her only option was to meet them.

Nevertheless, she hung her head, unable to readily agree. Felix stood up and walked over to stand in front of her. Then he put his fingers under her chin and lifted it. Monica’s hesitant face shone in his mysterious blue eyes.

“You will…live up to my expectations, won’t you?”

He added a tinge of loneliness to his voice, which would have made most girls red up to their ears. Monica, though, just looked like she was being threatened. She nodded stiffly, then rallied every last bit of vocabulary she could manage from the recesses of her mind. The important thing about conveying your intentions was to use logical, clear explanations.

“F-first…,” she stammered, “I’ll analyze the tempo of the songs being used and compare it to the length of my footsteps. I’ll also calculate the angles of the legs, waist, and shoulders during the dance and memorize those. That’s where I’d like to start!”

On the surface, her explanation might sound logical—but in essence, it was completely nonsensical. Cyril narrowed his eyes and groaned, then said, “…Accountant Norton, you should be using your body, not your brain.”

He was absolutely right.

Back in her attic room, Monica collapsed into her pillow and started sniveling and crying. She wasn’t used to exercising, and now her feet hurt.

“You’re like a decrepit old lady, Monica.”

Nero jumped on top of her and pushed on her back with his paws. He was apparently trying to give her a massage.

“Oof, ugh… Everything hurts…”

“Apparently the younger you are, the faster the muscle pain sets in. Good for you.”

Where in the world did he learn that? wondered Monica, keeping her face buried in the pillow.

“You know,” said Nero teasingly, “I was peeking in from the window. Dance is…what exactly? A competition to see who can step on their partner’s foot the most?”

“N-no… You know what it is. You’ve seen it in the illustrations in your novels…”

“That’s why I was so surprised! I’ve only ever seen the pictures. I never knew dancing was such an extreme sport.”

Nero hopped up onto the desk next to an open book and deftly used his front paw to turn the pages before settling on one and tapping at a particular sentence. “Julia entrusted herself to Bartholomew’s lead and the music. It was like a dream. Hand in hand, they stepped wherever their hearts pleased… The characters in this book must’ve been stepping on each other’s feet to their hearts content. Aw, crap—now I’m reinterpreting the whole scene!”

“That’s not what it’s about… Really…,” moaned Monica. She sat up in bed, puffed out her cheeks, and glared at Nero.

The cat, however, simply grinned at her and waved his tail. “Can’t you solve the whole problem real easy with a little magecraft? You can use it without chanting, remember? Just use a spell that makes you good at dancing and don’t tell anyone.”

A spell that made one a good dancer… How convenient it would be if such a thing existed! Unfortunately, magecraft couldn’t do everything.

“…Listen, Nero,” she began. “You could theoretically manipulate your body and force it to take certain actions, but…that type of magecraft is forbidden in this kingdom.”

“You mean like that, uh…that thing from before. Mental interference or whatever?”

“Mental interference magecraft is permitted under certain conditions, but bodily manipulation magecraft is completely forbidden. It has an even stricter penalty.”

Any magecraft that moved a person’s body or temporarily strengthened their muscles—basically, anything that affected a human body—was outright forbidden in the Kingdom of Ridill. The reason was that human bodies had no resistance to mana, so using such spells ran the risk of side effects like mana poisoning. Healing magecraft was forbidden for the same reason.

At Monica’s explanation, Nero’s whiskers twitched. “Hmm. Wait. In this kingdom? …Can you use this stuff in other countries?”

“There is one exception…” Monica paused, before tightening her fists in her lap. “…The Schwargald Empire to the east.”

The Empire, which lay across Ridill’s eastern border, was the largest nation on the continent. The young emperor who had taken over about a year prior loathed the old traditions and was implementing one new policy after the next. One of his measures had been to lift the ban on curative magecraft. He had, on a limited basis, permitted research into bodily manipulation magecraft. As a result, body-strengthening and curative magecraft was sure to develop and advance in the Empire.

Above all, though, it was the lifting of the ban on healing magecraft that most influenced mages from other nations. Recently, more and more of them had been leaving their stricter home countries to move to the Empire.

The outflow of talented mages to other nations was a difficult issue for every country, and it had been a topic of discussion at the Seven Sages’ conferences several times already.

“Man, humans sure have a lot of stuff going on,” said Nero profoundly, closing the book.

“…Yeah,” agreed Monica, once again rolling down onto her side. Her weary body yearned for rest, and once she’d closed her eyes, it didn’t take long for the drowsiness to come rushing in.

Forgetting to prepare for the next day’s classes, Monica dozed off. As she did so, she once again recalled Felix’s beautiful smile.

“You will…live up to my expectations, won’t you?”

His words had scratched at old wounds in her heart.

…How could I say yes to that?

She remembered the familiar sight of her father’s back as he headed for his desk.

He had been knowledgeable about many things. Mathematics, physics, pharmacy, medicine… He’d studied just about everything, but biology had been his forte.

Listen, Monica. Human bodies are made up of vast quantities of numbers.

If one could analyze the equations that made humans what they were, one could save the lives of many struggling from illnesses.

And so, day in and day out, her father had devoted himself to his research. He hadn’t spent all that much time with Monica, but she was happy enough just reading the collection of books he’d amassed and occasionally listening to him talk about his research.

Her father had been a brilliant scholar. He always met everyone’s expectations.

And yet, in the end, the populace had reviled him, thrown stones at him, and…

No. No, no!

In her mind’s eye, she glimpsed red—the red of fire.

The sight of her father, and of all those numbers he’d accumulated, going up in flames.

He had met everyone’s expectations. But he hadn’t been rewarded for it.

Monica was the same. In order to meet the expectations of others, she’d learned unchanted magecraft…and the one friend whose praise she’d actually wanted had turned his back on her.

I wish people wouldn’t expect anything from me. If I stayed in that deserted cabin in the mountains and just looked at numbers all day, I wouldn’t have to feel like that ever again… But…

She abandoned that train of thought and tried to flee into her beloved world of equations, but what came to mind instead was Elliott, who had tried to help her escape the intruders.

Faced with danger, he had nevertheless claimed that it was the duty of nobles to protect commoners and tried to send her away.

Monica, on the other hand, had simply allowed herself to be pulled along in life, becoming one of the Seven Sages, then forcibly being dragged by Louis into her current mission infiltrating the academy. She’d never given a thought to the responsibilities of her position.

Right now, Monica was both the Silent Witch Monica Everett, a Sage, and Monica Norton, accountant for the student council. If she turned away from her duty, she had the feeling she’d be stricken with guilt whenever Cyril called her Accountant Norton. If a student council member couldn’t manage ballroom dancing, it would set a bad example for the other students—the beautiful Bridget Greyham was right.

“Okay.”

Monica rallied her energy to push herself up and off the bed.

Nero, who had been curled up beside her, raised his head in confusion. “Um? Weren’t you going to sleep?”

“…I’m going to practice dancing a little more.”

As she silently began to move through her steps, Nero grinned at her and waved his tail. “Are you going to practice kicking people after you’re done practicing stepping on their feet?”

“N-no!” insisted Monica, pouting.

Nero hopped nimbly off the bed. A jet-black cloud enveloped him, blending his silhouette into the night as he transformed into a young human man with black hair wearing an old-fashioned robe. Narrowing his eyes—which were still as gold as in his cat form—he looked down at Monica. “Would you like some help, Master?”

“But you don’t have any experience, either.”

“Pfft. I’ve seen it done. I’ll manage. Don’t underestimate my impressive athleticism!”

Nero took Monica’s hands and hummed a tune as they started to dance. His steps were rough and random, but frustratingly, they were far better than Monica’s awkward footwork.

That evening, Monica stepped on Nero’s feet seventeen times, kicked him in the leg twenty-three times, and was ultimately accused of familiar abuse.