Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 4 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

The Purple One Who Desires Love

Under a pleasant, clear blue sky, a man was walking along a path colored by autumn leaves. He was slender and lanky, with the hood of his robe pulled down over his eyes and a long staff gripped in his hand. He used the staff for support as he trudged to a shaded area by the roadside. The way he walked was like a slug—bent at the waist, dragging his feet behind him.

“Ahh, ahhhh, I can finally see it…Serendia Academy.”

The man’s heavy steps came to a stop. Slowly, he raised his hooded head. There it was, just past a wooded area: a school building so beautiful one might mistake it for a palace. Despite the distance, he could make out its splendid structure.

Gazing at the academy building from afar, the man’s already pale face whitened further. “Radiance to blind the eyes… And you’re telling me that’s a school?! Damn. Damn, it’s going to blind me… I hate you, I hate you, I hate you… Anyone who attends such a radiant school must be well loved, well raised… Ahhh, I envy you, I envy you, I envy you—I curse you, I curse you, I curse you…”

The man continued to curse everything he saw, his face twisted with loathing.

“The school festival is only a day away,” remarked Isabelle Norton, daughter of Count Kerbeck and Monica’s collaborator on her top-secret mission.

Isabelle returned her teacup to her saucer. It was the night before the festival, and Monica had paid her a visit to discuss how she would protect Felix without revealing her identity.

Others from House Norton would be attending as guests to support them, but generally speaking, only Monica could act as the prince’s bodyguard. He was incredibly sharp and insightful, so he’d likely notice if a servant from House Norton tried to step in.

Instead, Isabelle and the others would simply keep watch nearby for anyone suspicious and help maintain Monica’s cover.

“My father won’t be able to make it,” continued Isabelle. “But my mother will be attending in his place.”

“Your mother?” repeated Monica.

“Yes, and she’ll be bringing several talented servants with her as well,” Isabelle explained with a nod. She glanced at her maidservant, Agatha, who proceeded to retrieve a floor plan of Serendia Academy and spread it out on the desk.

Isabelle used her fan to point to the four structures in the plan. “Broadly speaking, you can break Serendia Academy up into four buildings: the advanced building, the intermediate building, the library, and the grand hall used for balls and ceremonies. Students can generally enter and exit any of these, but the hardest for you to keep an eye on and most conspicuous for you to enter is the intermediate building.”

Both the advanced and intermediate courses shared use of the library and the grand hall, so Monica could easily move between these without appearing unnatural. But since she was part of the advanced course, entering the intermediate building would make her stick out like a sore thumb. Inevitably, she wouldn’t be able to keep as close an eye on it. She wasn’t too concerned during normal school days, but a lot of outsiders would be going in and out during the festival—if possible, she wanted to make sure it was secure.

“So House Norton will keep watch near the intermediate building instead,” said Isabelle. “Prince Felix won’t have his eye on it, either, and reducing the number of places you need to worry about should make your job easier.”

Monica was incredibly grateful for the offer. Louis and Ryn would be helping her out on the day as well, but there were still too few of them to properly guard the prince.

“Th-thank you, Lady Isabelle!” she mustered. “That really helps… But, um…” One thing bothered her. “Won’t people find it strange for your family to be in the intermediate building? You’re in the advanced course, after all…”

“Oh, that will be no problem at all. You needn’t worry,” Isabelle assured her. Then she paused, pounding her fist into her palm like she’d just remembered something. “Ah, yes, and another thing. My sister, we must decide on secret signals so we can communicate should the need arise!”

“Signals?” repeated Monica.

“That’s right,” said Isabelle with a nod, putting her fan to her chin in thought. “If you should need help from me… Yes, then you can touch your left ear. If you do so, either I or someone from House Norton will move to assist.”

Monica nodded. “Um, okay…”

Isabelle put a hand to her cheek and gave a chuckle. “I read a novel recently, and it had a scene where two partners used hand signals. Hee-hee, partners… What a wonderful word…”

Apparently, this book was her new favorite. It was a story about two wandering knights who solved problems wherever they traveled. She looked entranced as she said the word partners.

“To tell you the truth,” she continued, “I would love to enjoy the festival with you normally, but today we are partners! I’ll be your perfect backup. You can count on me for support!”

Though Isabelle’s excitement was a little intimidating, Monica genuinely felt she could rely on the other girl. It’s so reassuring to have allies…, she thought. Though a well-known truth, this was a fresh sentiment for Monica.

“Thank you so much,” she said with a bow.

The morning of the school festival, Monica woke up earlier than usual. It was still mostly dark outside—a little pink seeping into the nighttime indigo to the east.

It was late autumn, and the air was chilly against her skin. She groped about for Nero’s warmth. She expected him to be nestled somewhere under the covers, but the black cat was nowhere to be found.

“…Nero?”

As she sat up, a beautiful woman in a maid’s outfit bowed to her. She’d been quietly waiting in the room’s corner. “Good morning, Silent Witch,” she said.

Rynzbelfeid—nicknamed Ryn—was a high wind spirit contracted to Monica’s colleague, the Barrier Mage Louis Miller. She had been staying with Monica in her attic room for a few days to help with pre-festival security.

Having a maid greet her as soon as she woke up was a strange feeling for someone raised as a commoner. “Good morning,” she replied, looking around the room. Still no sign of Nero. “Um, Miss Ryn…,” she ventured. “Where’s Nero?”

“Sir Black Cat left a short while ago for a morning walk.”

She called it a walk, but he was most likely patrolling. That made sense.

Ryn gazed straight at Monica. The spirit’s facial expressions almost never changed, but Monica could somehow tell that she wanted to ask a question.

“I have heard,” said the maid, “that Sir Black Cat is your familiar.”

“U-um, right…” Monica nodded vaguely.

Ryn continued in a flat tone. “The Starseer Witch’s familiar, Sir Owl, is not able to speak in human tongues or to take on a human appearance. Sir Black Cat must be a familiar of great talent.”

“Th-that’s just the kind of familiar he is…” Monica started to sweat. Was Ryn trying to pry into Nero’s background?

But the spirit simply said, “I see, my lady,” and left it at that.

“Um, Miss Ryn?” asked Monica. “…About Nero’s human form…”

“I am keeping that a secret from Lord Louis, my lady,” the maid assured her. “As I have heard that Sir Black Cat is something of a trump card for you.” Ryn put a hand to her chest and used the term again. “A trump card. How truly exciting. I eagerly await your trump card stylishly leaping into action to save you from trouble, my lady.”

Monica would rather avoid trouble to begin with, and the idea of Ryn eagerly awaiting it gave her pause. That aside, it seemed she’d be able to avoid any further questions on the topic. Monica sighed in relief.

Just then, Ryn looked out the window. “Lord Louis calls for me. May I step out for a moment?”

Monica had never made a pact with a spirit before, but she knew that simple communication was possible between a mage and their bound spirit even over distances. Naturally, the communication wasn’t perfect; only the feeling was conveyed. Ryn merely sensed she had been summoned.

She could move incredibly fast, so a short absence wouldn’t be problematic. Monica nodded and asked, “Is Mr. Louis already nearby?”

“Yes, my lady,” replied the maid. “He stayed at an inn in Craeme last night.”

Craeme was where Monica had first met Glenn. It was the closest town to the academy, so quite a few of the festival guests would be staying there. Louis planned to blend into their ranks and simply walk through the school’s front door.

In general, you needed an invitation to get into the festival. Anyone with state authority, however, could make a request of the school in advance and was usually granted one.

“I’m surprised he applied for an invitation…,” murmured Monica.

Serendia Academy was under the control of Duke Clockford, the second prince’s guardian. Louis, however, was a proponent of the first prince. It wasn’t as though supporters of the second prince’s rivals were barred entry to the school festival, but even so, Monica could scarcely believe Louis’s audacity. It was honestly impressive.

Ryn picked a book off the desk and smoothly held it up. It was an adventure novel by Dustin Gunther that Monica had borrowed from the library for Nero to read. She sometimes saw Ryn and Nero looking through it together.

“This novel describes bold, daring people as having hair growing on their heart,” the maid explained. “I am certain that Lord Louis’s heart has a full mustache and beard.”

In fact, the Barrier Mage Louis Miller was such a bold man that one wondered if his heart was actually made of steel, rather than covered in hair. Monica was the exact opposite. She had the heart of a flea.

“In any case,” the maid continued, “I will return for a time to the hairy-hearted Lord Louis. Do you wish me to convey any messages?”

Driving the image of a heart covered in hair from her mind, Monica bowed to Ryn in thanks. “Please tell him that I’m happy to have his support today.”

“Very well, my lady.”

Ryn opened the window, then changed into a small yellow bird and flapped away. Monica leaned against the sill and watched her go, getting a nice lungful of the outside air and stretching.

Okay. I’m ready.

The morning air had woken her up quite a bit. After changing into her school uniform, she unlocked a certain drawer and opened it. Inside was a coffeepot—a memento of her father—as well as letters she’d received from Lana, the comb the two of them had bought together, the book written by her father that Felix—or rather Ike—had purchased for her a few days ago, and a peridot pendant. These were her treasures.

When she’d arrived at the academy, all she’d had was the coffeepot. Now the drawer held so much more, and it filled her heart with emotion. I have so many more precious things now…

Upon leaving her cabin in the mountains, Monica had been able to fit only a few necessities, her black cat Nero, and her father’s coffeepot into her luggage. Back then, that had been enough for her. There had been no other possessions she cared about.

But now she had a lot that she didn’t want to lose.

…I’ll protect them. I’m the Silent Witch, after all. I’m a Sage, she told herself before picking up her ribbon and comb and doing her hair. She’d had a lot of trouble at first styling it the way Lana had taught her, but after a while, her fingers had grown quite used to it.

She neatly tied her ribbon, then put the comb away and picked up the coffeepot. Breakfast was still a ways off, so she wanted to sit down and have a nice, relaxing cup of coffee.

But just then, she heard a knocking at her window; it was her black cat, Nero, tapping against the glass. Monica opened the window for him. The cat slipped lithely into the attic room and shivered from the cold, moaning. “It’s freezing out there. I nearly got frostbite… I wish I could hibernate,” he complained.

“You were patrolling the area, right? Thanks,” said Monica. “…Um, would you like some hot water?” Nero had nearly fainted from shock last time he tried coffee, so she suggested just the water instead.

Nero shook his little head. “Nah, I’m fine. More importantly, we’ve got a problem on our hands. A seriously crazy guy is very close to the academy right now.”

“Huh?”

Monica’s face tensed. Someone suspicious is here already…?! And to make matters worse, Ryn had just left the school. Monica clenched her fists, knowing she had to do something about this. “What did he look like?”

“Well, he was kinda purplish.”

“Purplish? Um, could you be more specific…?” What about him was purple? wondered Monica, confused.

Nero put his paw to his chin, pretending to stroke it. “He was, like, super depressing, y’know? He kept on muttering, ‘I curse you, I curse you.’ Oh, and he had a robe on just like the one you have, and a staff just like yours, too.”

“…Wait.”

A robe and staff similar to Monica’s? Purple? Immediately, a name bubbled up in her mind.

“Ahhh, what a disaster. Now morning has come… The morning sun is blinding, burning my eyes… The sun, the world—both so unkind to me… Someone, please love me, please tell me you love me… Yes, sometimes even I want to be loved by something other than the mold, the moss, and the mushrooms. I want to be told I’m loved… Ahhh, I want to be loved, I want to be loved, I want to be loved. All those who walk normally under the sun, I envy them, I hate them, I resent them. I curse them all, each and every one…”

In the woods near Serendia Academy, a figure sat curled up against a tree, wearing a hooded robe and clinging to a staff. Just as Nero said, this “seriously crazy guy” was incredibly disquieting, gloomy, and creepy. In short, he was the kind of person you wanted to stay away from.

The man, who looked a little over twenty, was lanky with a pallid face. His hair—unevenly cut—was visible from under his hood, clearly not maintained, and it was a shocking, vivid purple.

Monica, who had snuck out of her room, drew closer to the man, holding Nero to her chest. Hesitantly, she asked, “Sir? Are you the Abyss Shaman?”

The man froze where he was, under the shade of the tree. Slowly, he turned to look at Monica. His eyes were wide and colored pink like gemstones. He had a pattern—a shamanic seal—on his pallid face, specifically on his left cheek.

“You… You know me?” he stammered.

“You’re Ray Albright, the Abyss Shaman, correct?” asked Monica nervously. “Um, what are you doing here…?”

The man visibly shuddered. A scarlet flush bloomed on his white face. “A… A girl? A girl knows who I am… And she called me by my name… Is she a fan? My fan? What a turn of events. To think the day would finally come when another would show me love.” A low, strange laugh escaped his lips. “I’m so glad to be alive…”

With an eerie smile and his jewel-like eyes gleaming, he closed the distance between them. “Please, I beg of you. Please tell me that you love me. Love me, love me, love me, love me…”

“Um,” said Monica. “I’m, well, the Silent Witch, another one of the Seven Sages…”

The man’s eyes widened at her words. He tilted his head to the side in confusion. “…The Silent Witch? Monica Everett?”

“Y-yes,” she stammered, nodding.

The man began to breathe heavily. A moment later, he was clinging to Monica, desperation evident on his face. “P-please help me! You have to help me… Please! Pleeeeease!”

“Hphryahaaahhhhh?!” yelped Monica out of sheer surprise at his reckless behavior. The two of them were Sages, but neither commanded a hint of dignity.

Nero, pretending to be a cat cradled in Monica’s arms, offered an exasperated “mrrrow.”

The third Abyss Shaman, Ray Albright, was one of the Seven Sages and the current head of House Albright, the kingdom’s only lineage of shamans. Titles for mages were given only to high mages, and to receive one, you had to either apply yourself or have enough achievements that the Mages Guild granted you one. Among the more distinguished families, however, people would inherit titles from family members. House Albright was one such example.

The first Abyss Shaman was said to have invented more than a hundred shamanic spells—also known as curses—and engraved them into his own body. Much like how members of the royal family were fed trace amounts of poison from a young age to build up resistance, the first Abyss Shaman had trained his body to acquire resistance to shamanic spells.

These markings were in turn passed down to the next Abyss Shaman. Ray was the third to hold the title, and his body was engraved with more than two hundred spells, enough to cover every inch of his skin in cursed patterns.

A side effect of all these spells was dyschromatosis, which had turned his hair and eyes unnatural colors. Even in the vast lands of the Kingdom of Ridill, it was likely only those of House Albright who possessed purple hair and pink eyes.

Eventually, Ray seemed to calm down a little. He inspected Monica closely and asked, baffled, “Why is the Silent Witch wearing a Serendia Academy uniform…?”

It seemed her uniform was the main reason he hadn’t recognized her as a fellow Sage. Monica belatedly regretted not changing into something else to help keep her infiltration mission a secret. But Nero had said he found someone suspicious, so she’d burst out of her attic room still wearing her uniform.

Now… Now what? What do I do? thought Monica. Um, I need an excuse. An excuse…

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t come up with anything besides claiming it was her hobby to walk around forests wearing school uniforms. Even she cringed at the thought of such a pitiful lie.

Still, it was all she had, and so she bet on that slim hope. “Um, the Serendia Academy uniforms…they’re really cute, huh? I wanted to try wearing one…so I dressed up like a student from the academy, and, um, I was taking a walk…”

Nero looked up at her in exasperation. She could see the question in his eyes: Couldn’t you have picked a better excuse?

As she stood there, so embarrassed she wished she could disappear, Ray muttered a follow-up question. “I heard the Silent Witch is like me and almost never goes out… And she supposedly lives far away in a cabin in the mountains…”

“I was taking…um…a really long walk…?”

Monica knew well that the more the lies piled up, the faster they’d fall apart. It’s over, she thought, at a loss. She couldn’t possibly manage any more excuses. At this point, her only choice was to be honest with the man and ask for his help in her mission. Waaahhh! thought Monica, recalling Louis’s evil grin as tears formed in her eyes. Mr. Louis is going to be so mad at meee…

“Um, well…,” she said. “To tell the truth, the Barrier Mage gave me a mission, and I’m supposed to be protecting the second prince…”

“A bodyguard? You? The Silent Witch?”

“I-it’s top secret, so please don’t tell anyone else, okay? P-pleafhe!” she begged, quickly bowing her head.

There was no response. Nervously, she looked back up at Ray. For some reason, he seemed like he was in ecstasy.

“A girl revealed her secret to me… She asked me to help… I—I feel truly loved. Really, really loved…! Yes, this feels incredible… Heh-heh, heh-heh-heh-heh…”

From her arms, Nero whispered, low enough so that only she could hear, “Is this guy all right in the head?”

Quietly warning the cat not to be rude, Monica kept her eyes on Ray. He was holding his hands to his cheeks, smiling weirdly. His behavior concerned her, but for now, it seemed like he’d keep her secret.

“Um,” she went on. “What are you doing here? You asked me to help you a moment ago…”

“Yes! Yes, that’s right. I’m in a whole lot of trouble right now…” Ray trailed off, then set his gaze squarely on Monica, and made his plea. “This matter involves the continued existence of House Albright, so I want you to keep it a secret from others… I’ll keep your secret as well, so please…”

If a famous lineage like the shamans of House Albright was in danger, it probably involved some sort of misconduct on the part of a family member. Monica nodded stiffly, and Ray began mumbling his explanation.

“This is a rather old story, but ten years ago, one of House Albright’s apprentices turned traitor…”

The only ones permitted by the Kingdom of Ridill to dabble in shamanic spells and curses were the Albrights, Ray’s biological family. But there were plenty of people who conducted research on the topic on an individual basis without permission. Some of those people would then request apprenticeships with House Albright, since its members were unrivaled in the shamanic arts.

Outsiders would frequently be taken in, though they were required to marry into the family. This traitor must have originally been an outsider.

“Not only did they steal information related to House Albright’s spells, they took several shamanic tools created by the previous Abyss Shaman.”

He went on to explain that House Albright had quickly sent pursuers, but the traitor had hid himself so well that they’d been unable to find him.

“My family has been chasing this traitor for ten years now, but we were never able to find any leads… Recently, however, he’s started offloading the tools he stole, maybe because of financial issues. That was how we were finally able to start tracking him down.”

House Albright had secretly resumed its pursuit while retrieving the tools as the traitor disposed of them.

“…It seems one of those tools has ended up hidden somewhere in Serendia Academy.”

“Whaaa—?!” yelped Monica.

Shamanic tools resembled magical items, but they were mainly created for the purpose of causing someone suffering via a curse. They might seal away a person’s mana, restrict their actions, or bring about physical or mental disease… In other words, anyone who wanted one was undoubtedly up to no good.

If one of them was hidden in Serendia Academy, it was a major emergency.

“I wanted to get inside the school as a festivalgoer and quietly retrieve the tool, but… But… But…”

Ray’s breathing became labored, as though he was having some kind of fit. He clutched at his robe, and his face twisted as he said bitterly, “But the whiteness of Serendia Academy’s uniforms has broken my spirit.”

Monica wasn’t sure how to respond.

Oblivious to her confusion, Ray clawed at his purple hair and started wailing hysterically. “White uniforms? White?! If I wore one, I would doubtless make a fool of myself… And yet people here wear them like it’s nothing. I just can’t understand how these people think. Ahhh, they’re so white it stings my eyes! I hate it… Damn, damn! I’ll curse them to spill tea on their sleeves and stain their shirts… I’ll curse them, I’ll curse them, I’ll curse them! But not the girls.”

“Ummm…”

“And the school itself is radiant… When the people in a space are radiant, does the air itself become radiant? Why, I would stand out like a sore thumb in such a radiant building. They would talk behind my back. Throw stones at me. Make me into a laughingstock. I know, I know exactly what they’d do… Ahhh, what a terrifying place this academy is… If I entered it, I would melt. Shrivel up like a slug stricken with salt—”

“Uh! Ummm…”

As Monica, flustered, tried to interrupt, Ray suddenly turned a pink-eyed glare on her, approached her once again, and begged. “So please… I’ll…I’ll do my absolute best to get inside that radiant academy… I’ll use every fiber of my being… So please, Silent Witch, help me get that tool back!”

Having accepted the Abyss Shaman’s request for help, Monica left Ray for the time being and carried Nero back to the girls’ dormitory. Ray, for his part, had been creeping toward the academy with a gait like a dying slug, wanting—in his own words—to get as close as he could by the start of the school festival.

And he was trying very hard, just as he’d declared he would. But at the rate he was going, he’d never even reach the school, much less start looking for his lost shamanic tool.

From Monica’s arms, Nero whispered seriously, “Man, it’s like the Seven Sages only accept total weirdos.”

“Haaah…” She couldn’t argue with that.

Monica’s pocket currently held a duplicate of a shamanic tool called the Crimson Wrath. Ray had given it to her, telling her to swap it for the real thing if she found it. The item was a necklace with a crimson jewel embedded into its decorative black frame.

I’ve never seen a student wearing something like this, thought Monica. But it’s likely whoever took it has already begun to suffer side effects.

The curse imbued on the item robbed a person of their peace of mind. Apparently, its wearer would experience extreme emotional fluctuations and show aggression toward others.

Since detection magecraft couldn’t easily locate shamanic items, they would just have to walk around the school looking for it. Monica had already told Ray she planned to contact Louis, explain the situation, and have him help with the search. The shaman had writhed in agony and grumbled about not wanting to be indebted to the man and how much he hated him and the whole situation. But ultimately, he’d reluctantly agreed. It was always best to have lots of help when searching for something.

But where in Serendia Academy could someone have hidden a cursed tool? According to Ray’s investigation, it had been pawned off as an ordinary secondhand accessory. After drifting here and there, it had eventually been purchased by someone from the school. It looks like a necklace, so maybe I should check what the other girls are wearing…

Monica had no choice but to go around looking at the female students’ accessories at the same time she watched over Felix. Jewel aside, the necklace’s black decorative frame was unique, so it would probably be easy to spot.

She thought all this over as she walked, and soon she was approaching the girls’ dormitory. It was still early in the morning—early enough that if the dorm master saw her, she’d be in for a scolding.

“Up you go, Nero,” she said.

“Oh? This again, eh?” the cat replied.

After putting Nero on her shoulder, Monica grabbed the broom she’d hidden in the trees. It was just an ordinary broom—no magic in it or anything. She’d borrowed it from the storage closet just below the attic room where she slept.

Monica straddled the broom, then deployed an unchanted flight spell. The broom slowly floated into the air, carrying her with it.

“Back straight, binary rhythm, and balance, balance…”

She’d just learned flight magecraft, and she was still far from mastering it. Slow ascents like these actually made it harder for her to stay balanced than simply going straight ahead.

As Monica’s head wobbled to and fro, Nero clung to her more tightly. “I don’t like the look of this. You sure you’re all right?”

“I-I’ll be fine… Wah-hyahhh?!”

“Hey! I’m gonna fall! I’m gonna fall!” yelled Nero as Monica’s body careened to the left. Because she was leaning, they began to zigzag. Despite all this, she somehow reached the window of her attic room.

As her feet touched the floor, Monica dropped the broom and slumped over, moaning. “I didn’t have as much trouble going down…”

“Even that was a wild ride,” Nero pointed out scathingly. “I mean, it was a little hard to tell if we were flying or falling.”

Monica sniffled in response.

As the little witch bobbed and wound her way through the early-morning skies, a maid watched her through opera glasses from the window of one of the girls’ dorm rooms. After the young servant saw the little witch enter her attic room, she left the window and straightened up before reporting what she’d just witnessed to her master.

“There is no doubt about it,” she said. “That was Lady Monica Norton, student council accountant.”

“…I see,” murmured a beautiful girl with glossy blond hair. She sat on a chair with her fan unfolded.

This was Bridget Greyham, student council secretary.

“Shall we barge into her room, Lady Bridget?” the maid asked.

“No,” the girl replied. “It isn’t yet time.”

Considered one of the three most beautiful girls at Serendia Academy, Bridget had brilliant features that called to mind large roses in full bloom. She covered her mouth with her fan and lowered her eyes in thought. Her fair eyelids covered her amber eyes as if to conceal what was on her mind. Long eyelashes cast shadows across her cheeks.

We should keep to passive observation for now, she thought.

Despite her famous lineage, Bridget was merely the daughter of a nobleman. There were limits to what she could do; she only had so many cards in her hand. She would have to proceed with caution.

I’m used to waiting, enduring. I’ve been doing it for ten years, after all.

She ground her teeth dully, tightening her grip on the fan. And as the one she loved most appeared behind her eyelids, she made a quiet oath to herself.

…Prince.

Cyril Ashley was the first to arrive at the student council room on the morning of the school festival. He started by checking over the plans for each of the other members. He wasn’t anxious about the schedule, per se, but he felt like he had to keep himself busy somehow or he’d never calm down.

My father will be here today as well, he thought to himself. I must be bold and dignified in my behavior so as not to bring shame on House Ashley.

Cyril had sent out two invitations to the school festival. The first was addressed to his foster father, Marquess Highown. The other…

…I wonder if she’ll come.

He looked out the window. Several carriages were already parked outside the school. He knew he wouldn’t be able to see much from this distance, but he nevertheless peeled his eyes for any sign of Marquess Highown’s emblem. That was when he heard the door open behind him.

The first ones to enter were the third-years: Felix, Elliott, and Bridget.

“Oh, hello, Cyril,” said Felix. “You’re early.”

“Good morning, Your Royal Highness,” replied Cyril, straightening up and bowing.

Elliott narrowed his droopy eyes into a mean grin. “Got up early like an idiot, I’m sure. Just like he does for every event.”

Nobody asked you, thought Cyril, shooting Elliott a scowl.

A few moments later, Neil and Monica entered. The former announced himself clearly, and the latter—as always—offered a much more nervous greeting. Cyril noticed the tension in Monica’s expression. He knew she had plenty to be anxious about—this was her first school festival. As her senior, I’ll have to support her wherever I can, he thought privately.

At this point, Bridget spoke up. “I, too, woke up early. The school festival only comes once a year, after all.” She gave a high-pitched “oh-ho-ho,” then shot a glance at Monica. “And speaking of waking up early, I happened to see Accountant Norton outside the girls’ dormitory this morning. I assume you were nervous as well and had trouble sleeping?”

“Hwah?!” yelped Monica, her lips trembling.

Bridget covered her mouth with her fan and narrowed her eyes. “What were you doing out so early, Accountant Norton?”

“Um, I was, well… This morning, I… I was outside, and, um…,” mumbled Monica, hanging her head and playing with her fingers, things she often did when she was panicking or anxious.

As Cyril followed the movements of her hands, Monica’s face shot back up.

“I… I was, um, practicing my dancing! In advance of, um, the ball!”

“I didn’t realize you were looking forward to the ball,” remarked Cyril without thinking.

Monica managed a crooked smile and nodded awkwardly. “Y-yeph! I, um, I’m looking forward to it!” She started moving through the steps of a dance—very clumsily.

Cyril didn’t let it show, but he was suddenly very disturbed. He’d been certain the shy Monica wouldn’t want to attend a ball with so many other people. But apparently, she’d borrowed a dress and even practiced her dancing in secret. Monica had been earnestly trying her best to improve on her weak points, while he’d callously assumed she wasn’t interested. Cyril felt ashamed of himself.

…Why do I feel so awful inside?

Monica continued showing off her miserable footwork. It really was disastrous. She’d been a little better back when he’d instructed her.

Oh. I see.

Cyril then realized the true nature of the uneasy feeling in his chest.

If Monica showed up and danced like that, she’d embarrass the student council. He must be anxious—that was why his heart felt so strange just now. Of course. There was no doubt about it. And that meant there was a very simple solution.

If the prince or I take the lead, her dancing will improve… And I can’t bother the prince with something like this, so it’s only appropriate I look after her.

If Monica, shy as she was, was confronting the ball with this much sincerity, then it was his responsibility as her senior to help. Once he reached this conclusion, the discomfort in his chest melted away.

While Cyril was lost in thought, Felix smiled gently at Monica. “Yes, this is your first student festival,” he commented. “I hope you have a lot of fun.”

Monica cut short her stomping and nodded vigorously. “Y-yes, sir! I’ll, um, I’ll have fun!” Her braid wagged up and down like the tail of a dog.

“Then it’s finally time for the school festival to begin in earnest,” Felix announced.

Everyone present straightened up. Serendia Academy’s festival was a major event. The kingdom’s most influential nobles and even ambassadors from foreign nations would be in attendance. Failure was not an option.

Everyone said, “Yes, sir,” in unison. Cyril in particular stuck out his chest and spoke from his belly.

He vowed to do everything in his power for the sake of the prince he so loved and respected—and for his juniors.

After their morning meeting in the student council room, Cyril quickly left the school building and headed for the gardening club’s exhibit space in the inner courtyard.

Its members were busy putting together displays of mixed flowers and trading comments on their roses. Several pots rested on the exhibit stand. The potted roses in particular had turned out wonderfully; they had a wide range of autumn varieties on display, including some with powerful scents and strangely shaped petals.

Cyril called out to the club’s president as she carried out the final checks and made a sincere request of her. “I’m sorry to ask you for something like this so suddenly,” he said, pausing for a moment. “But might you be able to give me a rose?”

Most of the gardening club’s members, including its president, were girls, and Cyril’s request drew a lot of attention. They all knew what giving someone a rose during the school festival meant.

But the ever-serious Cyril thought they were making a fuss because his request had been rude. “Well, I understand you put a lot of time and care into raising these roses…,” he said, looking guilty.

The president’s eyes practically glittered. “No, by all means!” she insisted. “Please, yes, take one with you! Which rose would you like?”

Thanking her politely, Cyril looked over the roses in the garden. On the whole, autumn roses in Ridill were frequently deep of hue, but he got the feeling something a little less attention-grabbing would be a better fit for her.

A light pink, perhaps, or a light orange… He swept his eyes over the selection before stopping on one rose in particular—its flower was pure white.

His gut told him that was the one.

“I’ll take the white rose, then, if you please.”

The girls all immediately squealed in excitement.