Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 3 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

My Friend

The set up for the chess competition featured table sets to be used by the players and, a short distance away, audience seating. This distance was meant to help prevent the audience from distracting the players.

By the time Lana arrived in the classroom, the student council members not on the roster were already seated on the long bench in the very front row. As she hesitated over where to sit, Claudia and Glenn—who had come with her—moved directly to the front bench and positioned themselves on either side of Neil.

Cyril’s eyebrows flew up as Glenn pushed him to the side. “Don’t push! There are plenty of other seats!”

“But if I sit next to Neil, he’ll be able to explain the games to me!” insisted Glenn.

“Is there a problem with me sitting next to my fiancé?” asked Claudia. “Well, dearest elder brother?”

Watching the two of them made Lana feel ridiculous for hesitating, and she plopped herself down right next to Claudia.

Monica was already sitting at one of the chess tables. When she noticed Lana and the others, she looked up at them. Lana gave her a little wave, and Monica’s lips squirmed as she covertly returned it.

“Man, everything’s so authentic. What’s that over there for?” asked Glenn, pointing to a large board set between the players and the audience.

“That’s used to show the progress of the games and explain what’s going on,” answered Neil. “Do you see the grid drawn on it? They’ll add tacks shaped like the pieces to show you how the games are going.”

“Ohhh,” said Glenn. “I guess it’s ’cause we can’t see the chessboards from here, huh?”

Claudia, snuggling up to Neil, glared at Glenn, her eyes narrowed. “…You talk as if seeing the board would help you.”

“Hey, I know how chess works!” insisted Glenn. “You get yourself into a good position, then say checkmate! It’s super cool—like calling out the name of your finishing move in a duel!”

Hearing Glenn prattle away truly set Lana’s mind at ease. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one with no knowledge of the game. As she sighed quietly in relief, she overheard a conversation from nearby.

On one of the benches in the front row sat Serendia Academy’s chess instructor, Professor Boyd, along with his peers from the University and Minerva’s. The teacher from the University seemed to be speaking to Professor Boyd. Lana recalled the first match would be between Serendia and the University.

“You’ll find us a force to be reckoned with,” said the man from the University. “We have a very talented new first-year, after all. He came to this nation all the way from Landor specifically to study chess—and he picked our school, too. He’s a famous chess player said to be unmatched among the students of his own country.”

He spoke smoothly and at length, while the teacher from Minerva’s to his side gave only a subdued response.

“He came all the way to another country to study? Impressive.”

“Yes, yes!” agreed the University instructor. “He’s incredibly talented. It’s just that he can be a bit set in his ways at times. We would normally put a boy of his talents in the anchor position, but he insisted on being the first player because he’s the youngest and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I do feel as though I should apologize to the first players on the other teams.”

Lana unconsciously looked over at the player names written on the board. The highly anticipated newcomer from the University—the exchange student from the Kingdom of Landor—was named Robert Winkel. He would be Monica’s opponent in the first match.

“Oh, I daresay,” continued the University teacher, “I feel sorry for the young lady. She seems quite capable for a girl, but our ace will likely prove a bit too much for her.” He stole a glance at Professor Boyd’s stern features.

The Serendia professor’s face was severe, as if he were in the midst of battle. In a low voice, he said, “I apologize in advance.”

“Do you, now? Whatever for? Do you mean to say your female student is so weak, she won’t even pose a threat?”

“For making Monica Norton our first.”

“Ah, I see! So Serendia has gone out of its way to choose a female student for their team in order to liven things up! Or is she the daughter of a noble house who made a very hefty financial contribution to the school? Serendia certainly is different from our University—we value meritocracy above all else. But I suppose these things happen, hmm?”

How rude can you be?! thought Lana, gritting her teeth in anger. How dare he speak that way about Monica!

After a pause, Boyd said, “I made Monica Norton our first because she has little experience.”

“Yes, indeed. I should expect a lady would have few opportunities to play chess. How many years has she been playing?” asked the University professor, stifling a grin. “Or has it only been one?”

Boyd held up two thick fingers.

“Two weeks,” he said.

There was another person listening in on the teachers’ conversation—a player from Minerva’s, Bernie Jones. His slender eyebrow twitched as he continued to stare hard at Monica where she was seated in the players’ area.

Desperately trying to control the pain in her stomach, Monica took her seat. Her stomachache was not due to the pressure of having to play chess, but rather because Bernie was already so close to discovering her identity.

She was also anxious about whether Nero and Ryn were keeping watch as she’d instructed. She wanted to believe they’d be fine, since she’d made absolutely sure they knew what she meant, even checking multiple times…but they also seemed to quite like those clothes, so she remained uneasy.

She sighed to herself as the University boy seated across from her spoke up. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“N-no, I’m… I’m fine…”

“Oh.”

The student, named Robert Winkel, was apparently younger than her at sixteen years old, but he was so tall he hardly looked it. Not only did he have height, he had muscle—in fact, he looked like he’d be more at home swinging a sword than playing chess.

I have to focus on the game in front of me, Monica told herself.

“Looks like it’s time,” her opponent said. “Let’s have a good game.”

“Y-yes, let’s…have a good gape.”

She choked.

And she’d been doing such a good job speaking so far, too. It embarrassed her to slip up now, after all that—but she was depressed for only a few seconds. When she lifted her head and stared at the chessboard, all the shame and unease in her mind vanished, replaced by chess and chess alone.

Robert seemed surprised by the abrupt change in her demeanor, but Monica didn’t even notice.

The only things in her mind were the pieces on the board.

As the games began, Glenn put a hand up to his face and almost shouted out a cheer before Neil, noticing him, put his own hand over his friend’s mouth.

“No shouting during the games!”

“Mrfh… I was just trying to say, You can do it, Monica. That’s all…”

“No means no,” scolded Neil.

Next to Glenn, Cyril rubbed his temples as though he’d gotten a headache.

“Officer Maywood,” he said, “in order to maintain our school’s dignity, please make sure Glenn Dudley shuts his mouth.”

Claudia smirked. She had a wicked grin—anyone who saw her would know instantly that whatever she was thinking, it was far from proper.

“Then if I loudly cheer for Monica, Neil will cover my mouth with his hand, will he? How…worrisome.”

“Nothing about that is worrisome,” retorted Lana, more curious about the game. “Hey, what’s going on anyway? Who’s winning?”

Claudia looked at her in exasperation. “…One cannot tell who is winning or losing this early on.”

Lana, who didn’t know much about chess, reluctantly fell silent.

Then Glenn, released from Neil’s hand, said in a voice slightly more restrained than usual, “But isn’t Monica’s game developing really quickly? The pieces are moving twice as fast as at the other tables.”

He was right. The board showing the status of the games was updating with abnormal speed, but only on the first players’ section. The student moving the pieces on the simulation board seemed almost frantic as he looked back and forth between the actual chess game and the board in front of him.

Knowing full well she’d be ridiculed for it, Lana asked Claudia a question. “Hey, is there a rule in chess where playing more quickly gains you an advantage?”

“…Turns in chess have time limits, so it’s not a bad thing to play quickly. But Monica is playing far too quickly.”

Monica was consistently taking three seconds or less to think about her moves. In fact, from an outsider’s perspective, it almost looked like she wasn’t thinking about them at all.

Glenn struck his palm with a fist. “I’ve got it! She’s moving quickly to put pressure on her opponent!”

Cyril groaned, his face a mix of emotions. “That is a known strategy, but…would Accountant Norton do something like that?”

Then, as the board was updated with Monica’s latest move, Cyril’s, Neil’s, and Claudia’s expressions all abruptly changed. It wasn’t just them, either. Aside from Lana and Glenn, who were clueless about chess, basically everyone present had begun to focus intently on the first players’ match.

Felix, who had been watching in silence until now, looked out of the corner of his eye at Bridget, who sat next to him. “See? She’s the real thing,” he said.

Bridget hid her mouth with her folding fan and narrowed her eyes. Her amber irises were carefully and quietly trained on Monica.

“I had heard she was the foster daughter of the former Countess Kerbeck and was treated like a servant, never receiving a noble child’s education. And yet she has a mastery over advanced mathematics and incredible skill at chess…”

A beautiful and perfectly ladylike smile spread across her lips as she continued to observe the other girl.

“Where must one come from, and what sort of education must one receive, to end up like her? …I find myself highly interested.”

Felix responded with a perfect, princely smile of his own. “I agree. I’m quite fascinated myself.”

During their brief exchange, the high-level back-and-forth on the chessboard was proceeding at a terrifying pace. When Robert took the offensive, Monica rebuffed him with extreme precision. She would counter immediately, as though she’d known what he was planning from the start, and then Robert, undaunted, would play his next move. They were reading two turns ahead, or three, or ten. It was obvious to everyone how wildly different the first players’ match was from the other two—it was on another level.

In the faculty seating, Mr. Redding’s face was white as he muttered, “Two weeks, you say? T-two weeks?”

Meanwhile, seated with the other students from Minerva’s, Bernie Jones was glaring at Monica with dark eyes.

Monica moved her knight, then breathed a short sigh. As her fingers left the piece, her impassive expression dissolved, and her eyebrows drooped nervously.

She began to play with her fingers like she always did as she said, “Um, that’s…checkmate.”

The most advanced match that would be seen at the tournament had ended in a shockingly short amount of time. Almost an hour later, the second and third players finished their matches. It ended in a University victory, with two wins to one, but everyone understood exactly who the strongest player was.

After the first set of matches, a simple stand-up meal doubling as a mixer was held, hosted by the student council. Its only participants were the players and teachers from each school, plus Serendia’s student council members. The students who had come to watch the games took their lunches separately.

Monica stood in a corner of the room and tried to remain inconspicuous, though her eyes darted this way and that. Bernie was eating lunch and cheerfully chatting with the other students from Minerva’s. He had made no further moves toward her, but she couldn’t let her guard down. She had to keep as much distance between them as possible.

As she was thinking about this, Elliott and Benjamin walked up to her holding plates with snacks and refreshments.

“Hey, Lady Norton,” said Elliott. “I saw the record of your match.”

He sounded vaguely bitter. Then again, only Monica had won her game against the University; Elliott and Benjamin had lost. Maybe he was annoyed she was the only one to achieve victory.

As she fidgeted nervously, Elliott brought his face close to hers to peer at her, then poked his index finger into her forehead. “We did all that practice together… But you were going easy on me, weren’t you?”

“N-no, I wasn’t… I wasn’t doing anything of the sort!”

“It doesn’t take a pro to look at this match and see you pulled your punches during practice. What even was that game?! It seemed like every move you made was a new, unorthodox tactic… This match could go down in chess history, you know.”

“No, th-that’s…that’s an exaggeration,” insisted Monica, Elliott’s finger still digging into her forehead.

“Oh, don’t bully our junior so,” chided Benjamin. “A concerto doesn’t materialize if one performer stands out above the other. Only when the participants’ abilities are evenly matched can they reach toward greater heights and create the most beautiful melodies. Her opponent was extremely talented—and that is exactly why Lady Norton could exercise the full extent of her own abilities. In other words, her not doing so thus far is a product of our own shortcomings. Do not fancy yourself wronged in some way.”

Benjamin paused, then gave a shake of his flaxen locks and looked toward the ceiling. “…Ah! I do so wish I could have seen the moment this wonderful melody was born in person, rather than merely reading the records! Oh God! Why did you choose me as a player?! I wanted to watch her from the audience!”

He was being overly dramatic, but he had a point. Robert Winkel was the strongest opponent Monica had ever faced, and that was why she’d been able to search for novel tactics during the game.

As she idly basked in the afterglow of a thoroughly enjoyable match, she saw someone coming over to her. He was tall and lean and looked older than her despite his younger age, with short black hair and sharp, intrepid features. It was Robert Winkel himself, Monica’s opponent in the previous match and the subject of their conversation just now.

“Lady Monica Norton?” he said.

Monica gave a start at the sound of her name and reflexively hid herself behind Elliott and Benjamin. She was already extremely shy—but tall men like Robert scared her the most.

As she fidgeted, wondering what to do, Robert—standing straight as a soldier—continued. “I was utterly impressed by your playing in our match just now.”

“Th-thanks…?” she stammered.

“And so I must ask you a question!” he continued, his eyes popping open and fixing a rather frightening gaze directly on Monica. “Would you consider marrying me so that we may continue playing chess together?!”

His voice bellowed from the pit of his stomach, loud enough to reach the far corners of the venue.

Cyril choked on his drink as Neil yelped, “M-marriage?!” Bridget looked over, too, clearly annoyed at the moron who couldn’t read the room. Felix still wore his usual gentle smile—although there was something menacing about the gaze he set on Robert.

As for Elliott, who was the closest, his eyes opened wide, and his mouth fell open. Monica, like most of the people around them, just stared blankly, not understanding.

Finally, Benjamin broke the strange mood.

“How reprehensible!” he cried out, leaning backward and shaking his flaxen hair violently. “Love must be a more passionate melody—one that disturbs the emotions! This lacks beauty! As music, your proposal is utterly devoid of charm! In fact, I would hardly consider it music at all!”

He used his entire body to express his lament, spouting his personal theories on the nature of love.

As the situation threatened to go completely south, Elliott finally cut in to calm things down. “Uh, right. All that music stuff aside, what are you on about? Marrying for love is one thing, but marrying for chess? I’ve never even heard of such a thing.”

“I apologize,” said Robert. “I should have elaborated. I’d like to explain my reasoning, in the hope that Lady Monica will consider my proposal optimistically!” He sounded absurdly serious, his voice clear, his posture never wavering. “Lady Monica’s chess has stolen my heart. She is the first and only one of our generation to defeat me so thoroughly. If possible, I want to play chess with her more… But we attend different schools and have no other points of contact. Thus, I believe that if we become engaged, it will provide a reason to meet on weekends and during long breaks. And then we’d be able to play chess to our hearts’ content. And so I would very much like to be engaged to you, Lady Norton!”

It all made sense now. He wasn’t kidding when he’d said he wanted to marry her in order to play chess. Those were his true—and truly ridiculous—feelings.

Elliott and Benjamin, who had formed a wall for Monica, exchanged glances.

“Incredible,” murmured Elliott. “This guy is so self-centered, it’s almost refreshing.”

“No musicality at all…” Benjamin groaned. “Ahhh, not a hint of beauty…”

Robert moved around the two of them to stand in front of Monica, who had been in their shadow. She yelped, but he ignored it.

“I am the fifth son of a baron in the Kingdom of Landor,” he explained. “I will not inherit a noble title, but in time, I plan to join the Knights of Landor. Those skilled in chess have the opportunity to become officers. I can say with confidence that my future is more or less assured! My family also has no debts to speak of, and my parents are both reliable and sound! I am on good terms with my elder brothers as well, and we have three dogs! You will have no need for worry should you become my wife!”

This was moving way too fast for Monica. I have to turn him down…, she thought. “Monica Norton” was just a persona to begin with—she was actually one of the Seven Sages, and she’d infiltrated this place only to guard the second prince. Marriage was out of the question.

“Um, I can’t marry you,” she said. “I’m sorry!”

“Why not?” he asked. “Are you already engaged to another?”

“No, I’m not, but…”

Elliott fixed Monica with a stare that implied he thought she was being far too honest. But she simply wasn’t skilled enough to lie about such things.

As she fidgeted, Robert continued to argue his point. “If you have concerns about marrying into another kingdom, let me reassure you. I will support you in every way—through family issues, language differences, and high society alike. I want you to forget about all that and focus on chess.”

“No, I… Well, I, um… I’m sorry!”

Unable to stand there any longer, Monica made a mad dash for the hallway. Her gait was tottering and awkward, but she gave it her all.

“Lady Monica!” called Robert after her. “I’m not done yet…!”

But before he could give chase, a hand came down on each of his shoulders—Felix’s on his right and Cyril’s on his left. To those present, it would have appeared as a friendly gesture. But if you looked closely, you could see all the wrinkles forming in Robert’s shirt—proof of just how much pressure was being applied.

“Pardon me,” said Felix. “But she happens to be a member of our student council. I must ask that you run any proposals through me.”

“Your behavior is unsuited to the occasion. As a member of the student council, I cannot overlook it.”

Felix’s lips were smiling, but his eyes were not. Cyril, on the other hand, was coldly impassive, a chill spreading in the air around him.

Elliott grimaced, sure this was the start of something terrifying.

After rushing out of the room, Monica dashed down the stairs to the first floor before coming to a stop. She almost never exercised, and she could barely breathe even after such a short run. She leaned against a wall and tried to catch her breath.

That was a surprise…

Obviously, this was the first time anyone had ever proposed to her. Robert hadn’t been attracted to her looks or personality but to her skill at chess, and the only reason he’d proposed marriage was so that he could have more chances to play with her.

That would have seemed condescending to most. Anyone else would have been angry, but Monica was actually impressed at how logical it was.

Romance was just a word to her. She had nothing to do with it and didn’t really understand the concept. She was below-average in appearance, didn’t easily make friends, and could barely hold a conversation. Rather than saying they were in love with a person like her, someone asking to marry her so they could play chess together made much more sense and was much easier for Monica to understand. Regardless, she had zero intention of accepting any proposals.

But what do I do now…? she wondered. If she went back, she’d just stick out like a sore thumb. Maybe I’ll hide somewhere until the next match with Minerva’s.

As she thought it over, she caught a glimpse of something dimly flickering in front of her.

“…Huh?”

It was an arrow made of flame. There were five of them, each the thickness of a grown man’s arm, hovering before her. And the moment she spoke, they flew straight at her. No normal person would have been able to dodge them.

Monica, however, instantly put up a barrier without chanting and blocked the attack.

“I knew it was you, Monica,” came a voice from the stairs.

A chill ran down her spine.

Slowly, she moved her gaze up the steps until her eyes settled on her former friend—Bernie Jones—on the landing.

Light from the window behind him cast his face in shadow, but she could clearly make out the cruel smile on his lips. He leisurely stepped down the stairs, eventually arriving in front of Monica. She remained where she was, petrified.

Bernie laughed scornfully at her. “Why in the world is an honored member of the Seven Sages in a place like this, playing at being a student? Were the rumors that you’d holed up in a cabin in the mountains all lies?”

“Ah… Uh…” Monica desperately worked her mouth, trying to speak, but no words came out. She sensed her equilibrium slipping away. Her feet began to feel unsteady.

“Or maybe you’re hiding your identity to get another go at school life? And at Serendia Academy, no less—the best of the best. That’s a lot of money to spend on a whim. You’ve even surrounded yourself with men, playing like you’re in love… Ha-ha! Well, you seem to be having fun.”

Monica was baffled by the part about “surrounding herself with men.” Maybe… No, there was no “maybe” about it. He means Nero and Miss Ryn…! Apparently, Bernie had taken their overenthusiastic prank seriously.

But she couldn’t tell him why she was really here. Her mission to guard the prince was top secret.

As she continued to stare at her feet, Bernie reached out a hand and grabbed a clump of her hair—the hair Lana had so neatly styled for her.

“You seem to have changed quite a bit,” he continued. “Until I heard your name, I never would have guessed it was you. You’ve become quite the coquette—even though you can barely hold a conversation. Are you playing dress-up? Pretending to be an adult?”

“…Um…ah…”

“Seems like it’s going well. Someone from Landor even proposed to you.”

Bernie’s words were like daggers driving into Monica’s heart. And the more hurt she looked, the wider he smiled.

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “You’re pretending to be a pitiful little student to curry favor with the second prince, aren’t you? That sounds just like you—pretending you’re weak and frail, nestling up to someone… You’re like a parasite.”

This last remark truly hit home, stabbing deeper than any of the rest. Monica was already worried she wasn’t properly returning her friends’ kindnesses. And they were always doing so much for her.

She trembled, and Bernie snorted, smirking.

“What is it? Don’t tell me you aren’t even aware. Well, in that case, let me be perfectly clear.” Still holding Monica’s hair, he peered into her eyes and said, “You’re a dishonest cheat. You only ever think of yourself—you don’t care one bit about anyone else or what happens to them, do you?”

Monica was flabbergasted at the harsh, stinging insults.

Is that what Bernie thinks of me?

She’d maintained a naive hope that perhaps, if they could only speak to each other like they used to… But all that was trampled under the force of his disdain.

Bernie Jones hated Monica Everett. He wanted nothing to do with her, had nothing but contempt for her. That was the undeniable truth.

Monica felt the corners of her eyes heating up. I can’t cry, she told herself, gritting her teeth and barely managing to swallow back a whimper. But her nose itched regardless. The despair threatened to knock her knees out from under her. She wanted to fall into a miserable, weeping lump on the floor.

“And cheats like you are destined to end up alone, ignored by everyone!”

I know, Bernie, she thought. I know nobody would want to be around me.

Still, Monica had been happy when Bernie reached out to help her back then. She’d desperately wanted to be a friend he could be proud of—that was all. And yet…

I should have known I had no right to want to be his friend.

Just as the tears she’d been holding in threatened to burst free, something happened.

“Stop right there!”

A girl’s courageous voice echoed down the hallway.

Monica looked up in surprise and saw someone running toward her. The girl’s neatly done-up hair loosened as she ran, and the hem of her skirt fluttered wildly. It was Lana.

Noticing her, Bernie immediately let go of Monica’s hair and took a step back. Lana quickly inserted herself between them and glared at him.

“I couldn’t hear your conversation, but I’d like to know what exactly is going on here. You’re from Minerva’s, correct?” she demanded.

“Oh, I apologize. Are you an academy student?”

“I believe I just asked you what was going on, sir. Will you not answer?” Lana paused. “…Or is it considered good manners at Minerva’s to corner a girl in the hallway and make her cry?” She lifted her slender chin haughtily and continued to glare at him.

Bernie pasted on a thin smile and shrugged. “I do apologize for not introducing myself. I am Bernie Jones, one of the players from Minerva’s. Monica is an old acquaintance of mine, you see. We were just reminiscing about the past. Monica was so touched, she started sobbing.”

He delivered the words smoothly, but Lana seemed completely unconvinced.

“I see…,” she said. “So he’s the one you didn’t want to run into, right, Monica?” She gave Monica a light pat on the back. “I’ll fix your makeup. Let’s go to the powder room.”

“…O-okay,” said Monica, nodding.

Lana directed a refined, ladylike smile at Bernie. “You’ll have to forgive me, Lord Jones. I wish to adjust my friend’s makeup, so we’ll be taking our leave now.”

“Your friend?” repeated Bernie, his eyebrows shooting up. Then a twisted smile appeared on his lips. “You’re better off without a friend like her, you know. No good will come of it. She only pretends to be helpless in order to take advantage of other people.”

Monica’s body shook as though she’d been lashed.

And as for Lana…

“Excuse me, what?” she said, her polite smile faltering and her forehead crinkling with anger. “Monica would never do anything of the sort.”

“It’s just an act. She pretends to be powerless, but on the inside, she’s looking down on all of us.”

Lana finally abandoned any pretense at a smile and glared at him sharply. “You must have a really terrible eye for character, then,” she said. “Why don’t you start by replacing those rustic, unfashionable, stupid eyeglasses of yours and getting a pair that actually fits on your head?”

The air froze around them. This time, Bernie was the one grimacing.

He used a finger to adjust the eyeglasses Lana had just insulted and glared right back at her. “You will regret this. You saw that chess game earlier, didn’t you? She’s smarter than anyone I’ve ever seen. And talented, too. But she puts on this huge act, like she’s weak and can’t do anything by herself… She hides her true identity and sponges off everyone else.”

“Hides her true identity.” Those four words made Monica gasp in fear.

He was right. After all, she was hiding her identity as one of the Seven Sages. She was lying to Lana. She was relying on the goodwill of others for everything. Monica stood there, unsure of what to do.

Then Lana squeezed her hand. “Why not just be honest with yourself?” she said to Bernie, pausing for a moment. “…You’re jealous of her, aren’t you?”

Bernie froze in place. Like a mask falling from his face, his smile dissolved, revealing the anger and hatred underneath.

“One day you’ll see,” he growled. “Whether you like it or not, when it becomes clear just how much difference there is between your abilities.”

“If a friend of mine does something amazing, I brag about her to my father!” Lana shot back. “I tell him that I know someone very talented who I’m proud to call a friend! You, on the other hand, seem quite closed-minded!”

“Aha, I should have known. The gap between her genius and you, a mediocre girl with no real academic ability, must be so wide that you can’t even feel the frustration!”

The moment Bernie flashed a derisive grin at Lana, Monica cried out before she even realized what she was doing.

“Bernie!”

The other two looked at her in shock. She almost never raised her voice.

Her thoughts still a jumbled mess, Monica nevertheless did her best to squeeze out her words. “If you’re going to speak badly…about my friend, then…I don’t think I’ll be able…to tolerate you anymore, Bernie.”

Bernie looked taken aback. “You won’t tolerate me? So what? Do you really think anything you say can hurt me at this point?”

His words were venomous, but they had none of their previous momentum. He must have been astonished. Monica had never once lashed out at him before.

Monica slowly caught her breath and said what she’d never been able to say—what she’d always wanted to say.

“I relied on you for everything, Bernie…so I wanted to become someone amazing. Someone you could rely on…”

Bernie had always been the one guiding her by the hand. One day, she wanted to be a friend on equal terms, to stand side by side with him, sharing laughter and smiles.

“I wanted you to be proud of me, as your friend… That was all. I wanted you, and nobody else, to tell me I was great, that I’d worked hard…”

That dream, however, would never come true. She’d probably been wrong to wish for it at all.

“But I’m done…trying to get your praise. I won’t ask for anything from you ever again.”

Monica closed her eyes, like she was shutting everything out. And when they opened again, she didn’t bother looking at her former friend. With a shaking hand, she grabbed Lana’s and turned her back on Bernie.

Bernie reached out and tried to say something, but Lana mercilessly swatted his arm out of the way. “Men like you are the worst,” she said, squeezing Monica’s hand.

Bernie simply stood there, saying nothing.

The two girls walked past him, and once they’d gotten far enough away, Lana sniffed in satisfaction. “You managed to say what you were thinking quite eloquently, didn’t you?”

Monica shyly nodded at the grinning Lana. “I think…today, I feel strong. A little anyway.” She looked down at her uniform and grinned. “The corset kept my back straight. And because I’m wearing makeup, when I almost cried, I held in the tears to keep from ruining it… It’s all…thanks to you, Lana.”

“Don’t worry,” replied Lana. “I’ll make you look even cuter this time.”

Monica nodded, and Lana grinned and hugged her arm.

The moment Bernie Jones heard Monica’s declaration, a fissure appeared in his thoughts.

Two years ago, when he’d broken off all contact with her, he’d been sincerely relieved, or so he’d thought. Still, he’d remained curious about what the Silent Witch was up to and had read all the essays and papers she’d put out. And each time she received praise for some accomplishment, a part of Bernie’s heart said this:

I was the one who once helped her and took care of her.

And I was the one who hurt her and crushed her.

The girl genius who had been chosen as a Sage had wept and begged his forgiveness, and he’d felt a sense of dark pleasure at it.

But Monica wouldn’t ask anything from him anymore. She no longer expected anything. After that declaration, she’d turned her back on him.

Watching her go felt like a reversal of what had happened two years ago. Back then, Bernie had been the one to leave Monica in the dust. Now he was the one being left behind.

This is wrong. All wrong!

Monica had to keep thinking about him. She needed to think about him more and more, worry about him, fear him.

“I won’t accept this.”

He hurried down the hallway, looking for Mr. Pitman. The teacher hadn’t joined in with the others at lunch, saying he preferred to skip such events. Bernie headed to the waiting room and, as expected, found him there reading a book.

“Mr. Pitman,” he demanded as soon as he walked in.

Pitman looked up from his book. His eyes widened. “Oh? What’s the matter, Bernie? That’s one scary look on your face.”

“Please make me the first player in the next match.”

“Huh?! But if we change things now on such short notice… Everyone will be angry with me!”

“As long as you and a teacher from the host school sign off on it, it can be done,” said Bernie, hurriedly dragging a flustered Mr. Pitman toward the faculty room.

Lindsey Pail, a teacher at the academy, was sipping a cup of black tea in her seat in the faculty room, looking over the chess-match records from that morning. It was a rule that whenever anyone from other schools visited, there had to be at least two teachers in the faculty room at all times.

Keeping an eye on things with her was a short old man with a white beard and mustache—Macragan, the fundamental magecraft teacher.

“Do we have results from the morning’s matches?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “Unfortunately, our school lost to the University, with one victory and two defeats.”

As a team, this counted as a loss—but apparently, Monica Norton, a student in her class, had won as the academy’s first player. She’d have to go see her later and congratulate her.

Come to think of it, she thought, I remember congratulating Lady Claudia Ashley, too. She looked really unhappy about it.

As she reminisced on the events of a year ago, Macragan took a peek at the match records over her shoulder. “Serendia Academy lost?” he muttered. “What a shame.”

“Yes, but Lady Monica Norton played a very good game.”

“Hmm?” said Macragan. “So she has a talent for chess as well. I see, I see.”

As well?

Just as Lindsey was about to ask him what he meant, there was a knock at the faculty-room door, and in came a blond boy wearing the uniform for Minerva’s. Chasing after him was a man who appeared to be his teacher.

The boy looked around the faculty room and spotted Macragan. His face lit up. “Mr. Macragan! It’s so good to see you!”

“Hrm? Who are you?” Macragan, whose eyes were bad, tilted his head in confusion.

With a troubled expression, the teacher from Minerva’s whispered into the boy’s ear, “Bernie, are you acquainted with this elderly man?”

“Mr. Pitman, please remain quiet for a moment,” said the boy, silencing his own teacher and fixing his tilted glasses. “I’m Bernie Jones, a player for Minerva’s at the chess competition. Mr. Macragan, you taught my practical courses when you were still at Minerva’s.”

“Jones? Oh yes, I remember. You were good friends with Everett—”

“I’d like a Serendia Academy signature as soon as possible,” said the boy, interrupting him. “It’s about the chess competition.” He thrust a paper toward the elderly teacher.

Macragan stroked his beard. “Will mine suffice?”

“Yes,” replied the boy. “Apparently, it can be any teacher from the host school.”

“Hmm,” said Macragan, picking up the feather pen on his desk. Then, with a shaky hand, he signed the blank line. “Does that work? It’s not outside the box, is it?”

“No, it’s perfect. I’ll go submit this to Professor Boyd.”

“Hmm. I see. Say hello to him for me, will you?”

“I will!” said the boy with a refined smile and a nod.

After easily procuring Macragan’s signature, Bernie chuckled to himself. Now he could be the first player in the following match—and play against Monica.

I won’t let her get away with ignoring me.

He gripped the paper and hurried back to the competition room.

Pitman was mumbling something like, “Is this okay? I won’t get in trouble, right?” but Bernie couldn’t care less about him.

He needed Monica Everett to remain in his thrall—not only in the past but in the future as well. For all eternity.