Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 2 - Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

A Cup out of Place

After overcoming the mountainous obstacle of the ballroom dancing retest, Monica nonetheless had no time to relax, for her next trial had already arrived. And it was just as important a part of any noble girl’s upbringing as dancing: tea parties.

Serendia Academy had several uniquely aristocratic, mandatory classes absent from normal schools, such as ballroom dancing. One such class taught tea parties, and only the girls took it.

For the daughters of noble families, tea parties were not simply opportunities to indulge in pleasant, light conversation. In social circles, one’s skill at entertaining guests and being entertained in turn showed one’s dignity and grace. In the class, one would have etiquette pounded into one’s brain, then be given the opportunity to use it in practice.

These practice sessions would be held in the center courtyard. Female students of the same year would split into groups of four or five and sit at a single table. Each of them would bring her own tea, then compare and evaluate.

However, the teacher would specify in advance what tea snacks would be served. This meant the first challenge was preparing tea that went with those snacks. Students had to bring their own leaves for class, but most noble girls would just have their servant go out and buy them.

Monica, however, didn’t even know where to look. So this time, she turned to her collaborator: the daughter of Count Kerbeck and self-professed villainess, Isabelle Norton.

“…And so, well, I was wondering if you could spare a few tea leaves.”

After Monica explained the situation to Isabelle in her room, Isabelle’s cheeks flushed rosy pink. She was clearly filled with emotion. “Oh, but it’s an honor to help you, my sister! Yes, yes! Just leave this to me! I shall do my utmost to ensure that you overcome all the class’s challenges!”

“Th-thank you…,” said Monica, bowing her head.

Isabelle’s servant, Agatha, set down a cup of tea in front of Monica. The scent of citrus wafted up from the cup to Monica’s nose. Agatha, the youngest of Isabelle’s servants, smiled at Monica like a dependable older sister. “I shall teach you how to brew black tea. Normally, I would do it myself and serve you, Lady Monica, but…if I did that, it would contradict your cover story of being tormented by House Kerbeck.”

You were allowed to brew your own tea during class or have a servant do it. That said, the students mostly had their servants make it for them. Those who brewed it themselves were seen as third-rate nobles who couldn’t afford to bring a servant with them.

In Monica’s case, however, her cover story was that Isabelle constantly tormented her, so it wouldn’t be natural for her supposed tormentor’s personal servant to come and help her.

“Th-thank you…for teaching me…,” said Monica, bowing deeply to Agatha.

“It’s perfectly fine! Please, no need to bow,” Agatha replied.

Both noble and servant were very considerate, though it was a little difficult to approach them when Isabelle was playing the villainess.

“Hee-hee! Oh, I wonder what tea I should prepare for you… Have they specified any snacks?”

“Um… They said it would be cream cake and light fare.”

Isabelle nodded, putting her finger to her chin and thinking this over. Part of the class was to choose tea that would go well with the snacks. That said, Monica wasn’t accustomed to drinking black tea to begin with. As a result of her father’s influence, coffee was much more her go-to beverage.

“U-um, if those are the snacks…what would be the proper thing to pair them with…?”

“If light fare is being served, I would use young leaves to make black tea with a refreshing flavor,” suggested Isabelle. “It would be safest to avoid flavored teas. As for additives, you could drink it straight or make it into an unsweetened milk tea. However, my sister…”

She paused, then looked seriously at Monica and said, “An individual’s tastes are important when it comes to pairing teas to snacks. There are no clear right answers—but there is one clear wrong one.”

What did she mean? There was no right answer, but there was a wrong one? Monica was confused.

“The wrong answer,” declared Isabelle, “would be to bring the same thing as someone else at the table.”

“…Oh.”

The practical part of the class involved forming groups of several people, with each person bringing their own tea leaves. It would certainly be awkward to bring the same type as someone else.

“And you especially want to avoid bringing the same thing as anyone of a higher status. Strictly speaking, even the dress you wear, your hairstyle, and your accessories should be carefully chosen to avoid overlap while still following trends…but since you’ll be practicing in your school uniforms, we can limit our considerations to only the tea leaves.”

Monica shuddered. That was…a lot to think about. As one of the Seven Sages, she’d attended state ceremonies and the like, but the formal dress for a Sage was a ceremonial robe, so they just had to wear what the kingdom gave them. Hence, she’d never worried about what clothes to wear to a social function. Apparently, the tea parties that noble girls had were heavier in the “mental battle” department than she’d assumed.

“The most certain way to go about it would be to ask those who will be at your table in advance… Who would happen to be sitting with you, my sister?”

“Um… Including me, it’s a group of four. Lady Lana Colette from my class, Lady Casey Grove from the next class over…and I don’t, um, really know the other one.”

“In that case, it will be difficult to casually ask what sort of tea she’ll have.”

“I-I’m sorry…”

Lana and Casey would gladly tell her what tea they planned to bring, but Monica didn’t have the courage to go up to someone she barely knew and ask her directly. What’s more, she didn’t know the fourth girl’s family status, so if she spoke to her without thinking, the girl might assume she had no manners. In the world of the aristocracy, speaking plainly to someone above your station was seen as taboo.

“My sister, have they decided the order in which you will be treating the others to tea?”

“Y-yes. I’ll be the last one…”

“In that case, I believe you should bring two kinds of tea. That way, you can make sure you don’t overlap.”

“Th-thank you so much… Tea parties seem like a really big deal…”

Monica already seemed exhausted, and Isabelle looked worried as she nodded. “Indeed they are. Even if you take the time to investigate the other attendees’ tastes, relationships, and interests, you must expect the unexpected… Just like a heroine who puts everything she has into her first tea party, only to have it all ruined by the wicked villainess!”

The last part had probably come from a book Isabelle had read recently. Monica wasn’t sure how to respond; she just smiled vaguely.

Agatha, her face the picture of seriousness, offered some advice. “Lady Isabelle, in the future, Lady Monica may have many opportunities to encounter villainesses aside from you. To prepare her for such events, why not teach her about how villainesses operate?”

“…Huh?” muttered Monica, her face tensing.

Across from her, Isabelle’s face lit up. “Oh!” she said, putting a hand to her cheek. “Yes, what an excellent idea! After all, you are my heroine, my sister! Your future may well involve another villainess inviting you to a tea party and tormenting you…!”

That was definitely a future Monica wanted nothing to do with. Realistically, though, she couldn’t say for sure it would never happen. She’d been appointed to the student council very soon after transferring here, after all. That, plus Felix helping her practice dancing, had turned the majority of female students here against her. The only students in her grade who would speak to her normally were Lana, Casey, Glenn, and Neil.

These days, those around her tended to look at her in one of two ways. Some scorned her and saw her as an enemy, while others watched her from a distance, considering her a weirdo beyond their understanding.

Monica, who was clearly a commoner, had managed to avoid suspicion thanks to Isabelle’s fake bullying—and thus no one had pried too far into her circumstances. But several times now, she’d met with a mean remark as someone passed her or been laughed at from a distance. Those around her had recognized her as Isabelle’s prey, however, so few would come after her directly… But that might not hold true forever.

“Well then, my sister. I shall explain all about a villainess’s behavior patterns to help protect you during confrontations with true villainesses.”

Defeating your enemy started with knowing your enemy—or so Isabelle claimed. If Monica learned all about villainesses now, that knowledge might help if something happened… Though, to be honest, she hoped that day never came.

Monica straightened her posture, intent on listening to what Isabelle had to say, when—

“Ohhh-ho-ho-ho-ho!” Isabelle covered her mouth, bent her upper body back, and let out a high-pitched laugh.

The volume of it almost made Monica jump out of her skin. Isabelle finished laughing and smoothly corrected her posture. “This is the first basic action a villainess might take—the high-pitched laugh. By laughing in such a way, they can intimidate someone, distract them, and simultaneously regain their poise!”

“I—I had no idea that laugh served so many purposes…,” said Monica in earnest surprise.

Isabelle nodded as though it all made perfect sense. “But its effects wane when overused, so it has to be saved for the perfect moment.”

I see, thought Monica. A special technique that relies on timing. She nodded to herself.

Her collaborator then unfolded her fan. “And here is the second of a villainess’s basic actions—the silent sneer!” With flowing motions, she brought the fan up to her mouth and put on a mocking grin. It was full of pride and clearly derisive—which spoke to her own skill at acting and expressiveness. She could put stage actresses to shame.

“Normally, proper etiquette demands we hide our mouths fully when smiling. But for this move, you lower the fan slightly so that the person you’re sneering at can see your mouth. By doing so, you can make your derision clear!”

It’s all so detailed! thought Monica, shocked. I never would have thought a simple action could be so minutely calculated!

“Of course, you can conceal your mouth and let out a breathy giggle to convey your distaste for the person, too. You’ll want to use different methods depending on what sort of villainess you are playing.”

“I—I see… This is all very deep.”

“Indeed it is! And the more you try to master it, the clearer its true depths become.”

To repeat, they were talking about villainesses. Isabelle put much more stress on this lecture than she did on teaching Monica how to brew tea, and the explanation lasted long into the night.

Monica had no way of knowing that this young lady, so keen to pour her heart and soul into playing the villainess, actually had the highest grades out of all the first-year students in hosting tea parties.

Held in the courtyard, the mixed-class tea-party practice for the second-year students involved several tables fully laid out for tea. The tea served at this party was to be prepared in the tea-party prep room on the first floor of the school building.

Servants were generally the ones in the prep room brewing the tea, but Monica, without such help, had to do it herself. She would be going last in the order, so she’d have to leave the tea party midway through to prepare her own tea, but she also couldn’t take her jars of leaves with her to the party itself. So instead, she decided to stow them in the prep room in advance.

Several servants were already inside brewing tea. Almost nobody in the room was wearing a school uniform. Monica shrank in the awkward atmosphere, looking for somewhere to put her jars down, when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

Startled, she spun around—then immediately sighed in relief. It was Casey.

“Did you come to put away your tea leaves?”

“Y-yes!”

“Me too. I guess everyone really does have their servants make the tea. Being a poor country noble, I didn’t bring one with me,” said Casey, putting her jar of leaves on a shelf and slipping a piece of paper with her name on it underneath.

Oh, thought Monica. That way, nobody will take hers by mistake.

“Want to use a piece?” asked Casey. “There’s extra.”

“Th-thank you…,” stammered Monica, gratefully taking the paper and folding the edges several times into a bellows shape. That way, she wouldn’t have to write her name on it like Casey—the unique folds would signal which one was hers. She slid the paper underneath, then set her two jars of tea leaves on top of it. Nobody would mistake the jars for their own now.

“You brought two different kinds?” Casey asked, surprised by the number of jars.

Monica fidgeted, playing with her fingers. “I figured it would be bad, um, if I brought…the same thing as someone else, so…”

Casey seemed impressed with her answer. She pounded a fist into her palm in understanding. “Ahhh, I get it. That’s possible, huh? Wow, I didn’t think at all about what would happen if two people brought the same kind. That’s really smart of you, Monica.”

“N-not at all…” Isabelle had been the one to teach her that. She mentally thanked her false tormenter once again.

Casey checked the clock on the wall. “Oh no! We have to go or we’ll be late for class. Let’s hurry! If we get there late, Lady Claudia is bound to say mean things to us.”

“…Lady Claudia? Um, is she…the one with us…?” Apparently, a person named Claudia was their group’s fourth member for the tea party. “What kind of…person would this Lady Claudia happen to be…?”

Casey tried to force a smile, failed, and instead made an uncharacteristically sour face. “What kind of person…? Hmm… Well… Yeah. She’s really well-read and knowledgeable about everything. Some even call her the Walking Library. But her personality is… Well, you’ll find out when you meet her!”

Who could this noble girl be that even the cheerful Casey had to beat around the bush when describing her?

W-wait… It couldn’t be a villainess, like Lady Isabelle said, could it…?! What if she does the high-pitched laugh at me right away…? No, I have to stay strong and confront her…, thought Monica, secretly holding her breath.

Beneath a beautiful, clear autumn sky, tea-party practice began in the courtyard. Though they called it an exercise, this was an elite academy—the table settings all consisted of first-rate items, and every table was decorated with gorgeous flowers, each in a different color. The tea sets and flower vases were of the highest quality; you could even draw comparisons to court parties. If not for everyone wearing school uniforms, a casual observer might have been fooled into thinking that’s exactly what it was.

The female students were sampling the teas they had brought while having light, peaceful conversations. Whenever the teacher came around for grading, they’d talk about the tea, or the tea set, or seasonal flowers, but once she left the table, they reverted to talking about the latest trends or gossiping about romance. One of the particularly popular topics was, of course, the second prince and president of the student council, Felix Arc Ridill.

Caroline Simmons, daughter of Count Norn, talked about him as if enchanted, her caramel-brown hair swaying as she spoke. “I’m absolutely certain the prince will choose his fiancée before he graduates.”

The other girls happily picked up this thread.

“Who do you think would be most suited to him?” one asked.

“What about Lady Eliane from the House of Duke Rehnberg?” suggested another. “They’re close in terms of bloodline.”

“Lady Bridget seems a suitable choice as well, given that she’s on the student council with him.”

All the names the girls suggested as fiancée candidates for the second prince were noble girls who reigned supreme at the academy. Still, deep down, they all fantasized about the prince picking them as his lifelong companion—Caroline included. Every girl who attended the academy entertained the same dream at one point or another.

How wonderful it would be for that handsome prince to smile at you or extend his hand to you at a ball!

For such dreaming maidens, the next thing to do was bring up the least suitable match for the prince and put her down in order to retain their pride.

“Oh yes, speaking of others on the student council… Have you heard about her?” said Caroline, lowering her voice from behind her fan.

The other girls’ eyes automatically sharpened as well. Her—a transfer student, and yet she’d been picked for the student council. Monica Norton.

“I heard the prince gave her dance instruction.”

“I saw it as well! She danced with Lord Cyril, too, I heard!”

“Receiving a lesson from both the prince and Lord Cyril? …Who does that girl think she is anyway?”

“I’m certain she’s an uppity country bumpkin who forced the kind and gentle prince to go along with it.”

“She doesn’t even have a servant to make tea for her. Isn’t she the least bit embarrassed?”

“Just you watch—she’s sure to make a fool of herself during class.”

Caroline and the others tittered, concealing their malice behind their splendid fans. Making fun of Monica Norton like this set Caroline’s feelings a little more at ease.

Monica Norton…, she thought. It’s all her fault that Lord Cyril scolded me and I was made to submit a letter of apology.

When Monica had first transferred in, Caroline had been criticized as the one at fault in an incident where Monica had fallen down the stairs. It was true—on the landing, Caroline had shoved Lana, who then bumped into her hanger-on Monica, who had fallen down the staircase. But it was Monica’s fault to begin with for being so dull and clumsy.

How she disgusts me. Having her on the student council is a total mistake. I know it. A complete and utter mistake… Just you wait, Monica Norton.

As Monica took her seat, she noticed a strange mood hanging over the table. Actually, one of the girls was producing it all on her own. And surprisingly, it wasn’t Monica, nor was it Lana or Casey.

It was the black-haired young woman who sat in the highest position at the table: Claudia.

Even to Monica’s eyes, which were all but blind to matters of physical beauty, the girl was plainly gorgeous. She had perfectly straight black hair and deep-blue eyes that looked like lapis lazuli. Her features were so pretty, she looked like a masterpiece, a result of some divine being’s labors; she was every bit as beautiful as Bridget Greyham. If Bridget, with her shining blond hair and amber eyes, was like a large rose, Claudia was like an iris, exuding a mystical beauty.

And that gorgeous, eye-catching noble girl was giving off such a heavy, melancholic air that one might have guessed her entire family had just died.

Once Claudia’s servant had distributed her tea to everyone, she put a smirk on her deathly white face and said, emphasizing each word, “…Please drink up.”

The way she smiled was like an evil witch urging a good, innocent person to drink poison. But a moment later, it was like her strings had been cut—her face went expressionless again. What was strange was that, despite her lack of expression, Monica could still keenly sense a listless melancholy emanating from her person.

Monica had been worried for nothing—there had been no shrill laughter. In fact, the depressing girl seemed to possess neither the spirit nor the motivation to do so. Judging by her attitude, speaking was too much of a bother to warrant her effort.

People called Monica gloomy, but Claudia really took the cake in that department. Others’ impressions of Monica stemmed from her shyness and poor speaking abilities, but Claudia was purposely emanating a full-bodied aura of depression that made it nigh impossible for anyone to talk to her.

Because of that, it felt as though a single, heavy cloud hung over their table.

Monica, Lana, and Casey all drank the tea without saying a word. It smelled nice. But perhaps because of the strange tension in the air, they couldn’t figure out what it tasted like.

Monica groaned to herself. This is so awkward…

“This tea is delicious! What kind is it?”

The one to break the heavy curtain of silence was Casey. Having picked up on the strange mood, she resolved to make conversation anyway and addressed Claudia with a smile.

Her eyes still down on her teacup, Claudia muttered her response to the energetic Casey. “…The most frequently enjoyed black tea in the kingdom. Not even worth talking about.”

“……” Casey’s smile stiffened.

This time Lana chimed in, her tone bright. “H-hey, I love milk tea. Is there any milk?”

“…These leaves aren’t suited for milk tea. Is your tongue so stupid, it can’t understand that?”

“……” Lana kept smiling, but you could see her temples tense in irritation.

The mood at the table rapidly worsened, and Monica’s lips trembled as she sipped her tea. She couldn’t taste it at all now.

The awkwardness continued. Eventually, Casey—whose turn was second—left her seat to brew her tea, then came back and poured some for everyone present. She’d prepared a black tea with a somewhat dark color. It was known for having a rather bitter taste, making it go well with milk.

Lana, up next, had brought a brightly colored tea. It was light and had a refreshing, fruity sweetness.

“Lana, your tea is delicious,” said Casey. “It’s so light—I really like it.”

Monica nodded in agreement.

Lana put her cup to her lips, a proud expression on her face. “Well, I ordered the classiest tea of the season, after all. It’s only natural you’d like it,” she said, shooting glances at Claudia. It must have been a jab at her, since she’d brought a very plain, commonplace tea.

The strong-willed Lana didn’t seem to appreciate Claudia’s attitude, so she’d been making stinging remarks about her here and there for a while. Casey, being more considerate, would gently placate her and change the topic, managing to hold the table together.

In the first place, the one in the highest position was supposed to be acting as the hostess for these tea parties. Monica didn’t know who Claudia was, but apparently, she was a higher noble—coming from at least a count’s lineage. Normally, that would make her the one responsible for coming up with topics and moderating the group.

But she seemed to have no energy, and on the rare occasions she opened her mouth, all that came out was scathing commentary. It was making conversation practically impossible.

Eventually, Claudia muttered, “…Drinking something with such a strong flavor numbs the tongue, dulling later tastes.”

Monica recalled the flavor of the tea Claudia had prepared and gasped in realization. That plain tea that everyone’s used to drinking… Did she decide on that for our first cup in order to avoid numbing our tongues?

Lana and Casey both seemed to have realized the same thing and looked at Claudia in surprise. Under their stares, Claudia made a face as if what she had said was of no particular importance. She took a sip of Lana’s tea. “…Florendia’s Golden Chips… Out of all the black tea you can obtain in this season, this is the most expensive.”

“Th-that’s right,” said Lana, raring to fight.

But Claudia didn’t even look at her. She lowered her eyelids and said, “If you’d been the sole hostess for a party of nobles, it would have been the perfect choice…but for an invitee, it’s clearly out of place.”

“What?!”

“If you’re the only one who brings extremely expensive tea leaves…others at the table might well think you’re trying to mock them.”

Lana’s face went red, and she started to tremble.

Casey quickly chimed in. “I-it’s fine! I don’t think that! Right, Monica?”

“Y-yes… I don’t, um, think that way!” squeezed out Monica with all her might.

Claudia slowly moved her head to look at Monica. Monica could see herself reflected in Claudia’s cold, unblinking lapis lazuli eyes. “…And I suppose all you can do is agree with your friends.”

“Hwah?!” The way she said it made it seem like Monica was agreeing only because Casey had urged her to do so. Tears forming in her eyes, Monica shook her head vigorously. “N-no, that’s, that’s not… I…”

As a whimper escaped Monica’s throat, Lana finally slammed her hand down on the table. “Hey, give it a rest already! Every time you open your mouth, it’s to insult us! I think you’re the one who’s out of place here!”

Lana’s courageous shouting didn’t even garner a twitch of Claudia’s eyebrow. In fact, the gloomy beauty kept her gaze on her teacup, as though Lana wasn’t even worth looking at. “…You seem to think you deserve to be spoken to.”

“What?!” Lana scowled, glaring at the other girl.

Claudia paused for a good several seconds before listlessly continuing. “…Have you heard of the Silent Witch?”

Monica’s heart nearly stopped. It almost certainly skipped a few beats. Heard of her? She was her.

“A genius mage appointed to the Seven Sages at the young age of fifteen. She learned unchanted magecraft, and while she attended Minerva’s, she developed more than twenty new magical formulae…but she’s also famous for never attending any conferences.”

That was because places with lots of people scared her, so she’d always try to avoid them.

“…Even during the Silent Witch’s induction into the Seven Sages, she didn’t say a single word.”

That, too, was because of her shyness and social anxiety. Monica had been so useless that her colleague, the Barrier Mage Louis Miller, had done all the greetings in her place. As she recalled it, she felt a cold sweat run down her back.

Claudia flatly continued. “…Have you read the Silent Witch’s essays? You can learn a lot about her personality from them… She’s a very intellectual, wise person. She knows the value of staying quiet.”

I’m not intellectual or wise or any of that! I’m just shy and unsociable; I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…!

As Monica blanched and trembled next to her, Lana glared at Claudia, making no effort to hide her disgust. “Really, now? So you’re saying a smart person wouldn’t speak to an idiot, is that it?”

Eeeep!

Lana’s remark had been directed at Claudia—not the Silent Witch—but Monica still shrank back, still shaking.

Claudia barely seemed to register Lana’s words as she shot a sidelong glance at Monica. “…Come to think of it, the Silent Witch’s name is Monica Everett… The same first name as you, Monica Norton.”

Eek! Monica froze. Her heart was pounding noisily. She couldn’t stop sweating.

Claudia looked directly at Monica as her lips curled into a smirk. “…You’ve been keeping silent for a while now. Is it because you don’t want to speak with imbeciles?”

“I…I’m going to, um, g-go put on my tea nowph!”

Stumbling over her last word, Monica noisily jumped out of her seat and practically scrambled away.

Claudia watched her go, her lapis lazuli eyes following Monica the whole way. Ever since this tea party had started, Claudia had, for the most part, kept her eyes down. But there was one person she had looked at directly, and only one—a fact all those present had failed to notice.

Walking quickly down the hallway, Monica clutched at her madly beating heart through the fabric of her uniform. D-does she know? Does she know I’m the Silent Witch…?

She’d hidden her face basically ever since becoming one of the Seven Sages and had ventured into public places only when absolutely necessary. Only the other Sages should have been able to recognize her.

Or maybe Claudia was someone she’d known from Minerva’s? Then again, the shy Monica had spent most of her time holed up in the labs. If she’d seen anyone as gorgeous as Claudia, she was pretty sure she’d remember.

It…it must be a coincidence… The topic just happened to come up. That’s all, she told herself, opening the door to the tea prep room. Fewer people were inside than earlier. Most of the maidservants were probably serving at the party itself.

A little relieved at the lack of people around, Monica walked up to the shelves where she’d put her jars.

“…Huh?”

Looking up, she froze. Her jars were gone.

Casey’s jar was in the same place as Monica remembered. The spot right next to it, where she’d put her own, was completely empty—even though she’d put the bellows-folded paper underneath.

A terrible premonition settled over her, and she felt her blood run cold. This was not the first time Monica had encountered such a situation. She had a good guess as to what had transpired.

Hands shaking, she opened the wooden lid of the garbage bin and gasped softly. Mixed into all the used tea dregs were the unused leaves from her two jars, scattered all over the trash, including the paper she’d folded.

“…Oh no.”

Helpless, she fell to her knees. Without those leaves, she couldn’t make the tea. And without the tea, she couldn’t go back to class.

…Wh-what should I do?

Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. No matter how talented a mage she was, she couldn’t turn back time. Choking back her whimpers, she sniffled as a familiar voice spoke to her from behind.

“Monica, are you all right? Do you feel sick?”

A girl knelt down next to her and began to rub her back. It was Casey. “What are you doing here?” asked Monica in a tiny voice, to which Casey scratched her cheek awkwardly.

“Well, when you didn’t come back, I got worried, so I came to take a look… Actually, sorry. That’s just the excuse I used. I really couldn’t stand to stay at that table…”

That made sense. Casey couldn’t bear the explosive tension brewing between Lana and Claudia, so she’d slipped out, saying she was going to check on Monica.

Casey looked at the tea leaves strewn through the garbage bin and seemed to intuit what had happened. She frowned and glared at the bin. “That’s horrible… Who would do something like this?”

Casey took out a handkerchief and wiped Monica’s tears for her, speaking in a gentle voice, like the kind you’d use for a very young child. “Hey, do you have any spare leaves back at the dorm? It can just be some regular tea, as long as you have something…”

“…I don’t.”

Monica didn’t drink tea regularly, so she didn’t have her own stock of it. Isabelle would probably share some more with her if she asked, but she was in class right now.

As she continued to snivel, Casey thought for a moment, then picked up her own jar of tea leaves. “Use my leaves. We’ll end up using the same tea, but it’s better than not serving anything at all.”

“…B-but if we use the same tea, won’t that make trouble for you…?”

If they used the same type of tea leaves, the teacher would assume they hadn’t adequately prepared. If that happened, it wouldn’t only be Monica losing points—Casey would, too.

Casey seemed quite indifferent, though. She waved her hands. “Don’t worry about that stuff. It doesn’t matter what kind of tea you serve at a tea party, as long as it’s good and everyone has fun. That’s the most important part, isn’t it?”

Monica sniffled and looked at her tea leaves in the garbage. Casey was right. Most importantly, if she went back to her seat without having prepared any tea, she’d fail the class.

…But…

She bit her lip, balled her hands into fists, and stood up on trembling legs.

Then she turned around and dashed out of the prep room.

“Monica! Where are you going?!”

“I-I’m sorry! I’ll be right back!”

With that, Monica took off toward her dorm room.

Glaring at Claudia, Lana chewed a bite of cake—one of their tea snacks—still clearly irritated. Claudia’s gaze had closely followed Monica as she left, but once the other girl was out of sight, the table had lapsed back into that melancholic, listless mood. Claudia’s downward gaze, obscured by her long black eyelashes, gave an ephemeral quality to her beauty.

…What is this? What is this? What is this? Lana bit her lip and looked down at the cup of tea she’d prepared.

Her father was wealthy, but he wasn’t a noble by birth. He’d come from an affluent mercantile family. After contributing to the town’s development, his deeds were acknowledged, and he was granted a peerage shortly before Lana was born.

Ever since Lana was aware, she’d grown up receiving all the finest luxuries and most fashionable dresses. Everyone spoke of her as being a happy, lucky young lady.

But Lana had been all alone.

Among children from houses without noble titles, the dolled-up Lana was always conspicuously out of place. She had trouble finding a spot in the other children’s social circles, and they talked behind her back, calling her a haughty rich girl.

So when she’d enrolled at Serendia Academy, a school for noble children, she’d assumed she would be able to make friends more like her.

Unfortunately, with the school’s emphasis on tradition and form, they treated Lana as a classless upstart. And they, too, talked behind her back—this time about her father having bought his title.

Impolite. Unrefined. Ignorant of the tacit understandings among nobles… Every time someone said something like that about her, Lana became a little more stubborn.

The first time she’d spoken to Monica had been on a whim. Monica clearly stood out in class, and taking care of the girl had been a partial salve for her pride. Above all, despite her habit of being fidgety and downcast, whenever Lana helped her out, her face would blossom into a smile. It made Lana a little embarrassed, but it also made her happy. Each time Monica looked at her with respect, it filled her heart just a little more.

And she had expected Monica to look at her that way again at this tea party. That was precisely why Lana had done her best selecting the tea leaves. Unfortunately, however, Claudia’s remark that her tea was out of place had ripped her pride to shreds.

Why did it always turn out this way?

All I wanted…was to have my friend drink the most delicious tea I could find.

She recalled a time from her youth when she’d served the best tea and snacks available to a friend she’d invited over, only for that friend to go behind her back and accuse her of flaunting her wealth.

“Hey. Sorry about that. I’m back.”

As Lana scowled at the bitter memory, Casey hurried back to the table. Monica, however, was nowhere in sight. Lana gave Casey a look as if to ask where the other girl was, and Casey made a troubled expression as she sat back down. “Monica is, well, how should I put it…? At any rate, I think she’ll be along soon.”

“Didn’t you go to help her prepare her tea?” asked Lana.

“Yes, but, w-well…,” stammered Casey.

What in the world? wondered Lana. Did something happen to Monica?

Just as she was about to stand up herself, a pleasant scent tickled Lana’s nose—but it wasn’t the scent of tea.

“I-I’m sorry for the, um, the wait.”

Gait unsteady, Monica approached the table. In her hands was a tray holding empty cups and a strange metal pot. She set the items down on the table, then sighed and wiped the sweat off her brow. Apparently, just bringing the tray to their table had been quite a workout for the unathletic Monica.

Claudia, who’d shown no enthusiasm up to now, slowly looked up and fixed her gaze on Monica’s pot. “…That isn’t the smell of tea.”

“I-it’s coffee,” said Monica, her voice shaking as she stared directly at Claudia. “You said that starting off with a strong taste numbs your tongue… I’m the last one, so there shouldn’t be a problem with serving strong coffee.”

“…Coffee is a man’s drink. It isn’t suited for a ladies’ tea party.”

She was correct. In this country, coffee was commonplace, and there were even coffeehouses. But most of the people who drank it were men. It was quite bitter, so not everyone liked it. Lana had tried it a few times herself, but she’d found she couldn’t really appreciate it.

Monica continued with uncharacteristic firmness, however. “It’s okay. It’s really, really good…so…” She poured the coffee from the pot into the cups, then added warmed milk to just three of them.

“Y-you’re supposed to drink it as a palate cleanser after a meal, so I’d rather you drank it as is. But I know some people don’t like the bitter taste, so I added milk. You can feel free to add sugar as well.”

After she’d passed out the cups, Claudia was the first one to raise it to her lips. She sniffed it, then took a sip.

“……”

She showed no reaction whatsoever. It was a little scary.

Lana and Casey added sugar to their cups, then nervously followed suit. Lana’s eyes went wide.

“What is this…? There’s no odd taste or sourness to it at all!” she said, taking another sip of the cup’s contents. The milk’s smoothness enveloped the sharp, bitter flavor. Lana had never had coffee like this before.

Casey seemed just as surprised as she stared hard into her cup. “Hey, I’ve never had coffee before, but…is it supposed to go down this easily?”

Lana couldn’t blame her for saying that. Coffee was obviously very bitter, but its uniquely odd flavor and acidity also contributed to how divisive it was.

Until some time ago, the main method used by coffee makers was to boil crushed beans and sugar together and extract the liquid. Lately, however, a tool called a siphon had been popularized, which removed a lot of the odd, unwanted flavors.

But the coffee Monica had prepared tasted even better than that.

Gazing at the silver pot, Claudia said, “…The more time it takes to extract the coffee, the harsher and less pure the flavor becomes.”

“Y-yes…,” replied Monica. “That’s why I use this pot to extract it quickly. It uses the power of water vapor to extract the coffee in a short time, so—”

“I’ve never seen a tool like that before. Not even in books,” said Claudia.

Lana’s and Casey’s eyes widened. Claudia was known for her vast knowledge—people called her the Walking Library. She must be the most widely read person here—no, in the entire academy.

And even she doesn’t know what it is! thought Lana, staring at Monica’s pot.

Claudia finished off the contents of her cup and settled her lapis lazuli stare on Monica, her expression still unreadable. “…I see. It’s good for catching someone by surprise. But this class is about tea parties. It’s rather absurd to serve something that isn’t tea.”

“I—I guess so… Um… Well…”

Monica looked down and picked up her own cup. Hers was the only one she hadn’t added milk to. No doubt she was used to drinking bitter coffee.

“I, well… I wanted to let my friends, um, drink my favorite thing, so… Um…” Monica wrapped her hands around her cup, lowered her eyebrows, and gave a crooked smile. “…I guess I’m the one who’s most out of place,” she finished with an awkward laugh.

Lana’s mind went blank.

What is this? What is this? What is this…?

Until just now, she’d been the one depressed about being most out of place—and then Monica had gone even further by bringing out coffee, which made no sense for a tea party and would surely lose her points.

Lana gulped down the rest of her coffee.

“…It’s delicious… I love it,” she said, holding back tears.

A smile bloomed on Monica’s face.

That night, in her attic room in the girls’ dormitory, Monica was hard at work writing a report.

She’d naturally been docked points for serving coffee at the tea party. Lana and Casey had smoothed things over with the teacher, so she hadn’t outright failed, but in exchange, she’d been told to submit a report.

Nero was next to her, holding a coffee cup in his front paws and poking his face into it.

“Hmm, hmm. This really ain’t so bad, eh? I see. So this is what they mean by a mature flavor.”

That he could still say that after adding so much sugar and milk was hard for Monica to believe.

Finished with the report, she returned her feather pen to its stand and sighed. She recalled the image of her tea leaves in the garbage. They’d clearly been thrown out on purpose, not by accident.

…It’d be nice if it was all just a mistake, thought Monica with a bitter expression. She hung her head. “This time, it was only tea leaves…but I wonder if it will get worse.”

“Don’t like it anymore?” teased Nero. “Want to tuck your tail between your legs and run back to your little mountain cabin?”

“…I’ll keep trying a little bit longer,” she murmured.

Nero narrowed his golden eyes, grinning. “Heh. Until just a little while ago, you’d have been bawling, whining that you couldn’t do it, and begging to go home.”

“Urk… Well, that’s… Maybe that’s true, but…”

Monica started playing with her fingers as Nero jumped onto her lap and smacked her thigh with his front paw. It was much like how a person might clap a friend on the shoulder.

“Who cares?” he said. “If you’ve started to grow an attachment to this place, I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“Really…? Yeah, maybe you’re right, Nero.”

This academy held more than just bad memories for her now. It wasn’t much, but she had friends. People who would help her when she was in need. For someone who had obstinately refused all social connection in the past, the experience was completely new.

…But Monica Norton, the shy, inarticulate student, was just a facade.

Once her mission ended, she’d be leaving this school and returning to her life at the mountain cabin.

After that, it was likely that nobody she met here at the academy would ever see her again—because she was Monica Everett, the Silent Witch and one of the Seven Sages.

As she mulled over that fact, Monica started getting ready for tomorrow’s classes. The air blowing in from her open window was different from the autumn breeze of her mountain cabin; here, it carried the scent of the flowers in the flower bed.