Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 6 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Fateful Transfer Students

Lindsey Pail, the ballroom dancing teacher at Serendia Academy, looked at the list of transfer students for the second term, perplexed.

One would be in the second year of the intermediate course, and two would be in the advanced course—one in the first year and another in the third. None were joining the second year of the advanced course, for which she was responsible.

The one entering the intermediate course, however, just so happened to be Albert Frau Roberia Ridill, the third prince. And due to this royal transfer, the intermediate course teachers were all rushing about, looking rather ill.

But rather than the prince, the student Lindsey was most curious about was the boy set to join the advanced course’s third year. “Why would he transfer in so late? He’ll be graduating in only six months,” she murmured.

“Oh, that one?” replied a man sitting nearby, sipping tea. “His family made a large donation. They want him to be a Serendia Academy alumnus.” This was William Macragan, the elderly fundamental magecraft teacher. He spoke as if talking to himself, occasionally blowing on his tea to cool it. “His parents are very wealthy, so I suspect it was quite the sum.”

“Do you know him, Mr. Macragan?” asked Lindsey.

“I do. He once attended Minerva’s. He’s the nephew of one of the Seven Sages. The Artillery Mage, to be exact.”

“My,” said Lindsey in surprise. The nephew of a Sage, and a former student of Ridill’s top mage training institution? The boy had a very bright future ahead of him. “He must be a talented mage,” she added with a smile.

Macragan sipped his tea and heaved a long sigh. Beneath his white eyebrows, his eyes seemed to look past her, as if reliving some distant memory. “Yes, he was quite talented… Certainly no honors student, though.”

An unusual pathos emanated from the man. Lindsey wasn’t sure if she should pry any further, so she looked back down at her list.

…What’s this?

The third transfer student’s name suddenly caught her attention. She felt like she’d seen it before, on another list, different from this one.

Where was it? It seems he’s transferring in from abroad…

She went backward through the year in her mind. Winter break, final exams, the school festival… Then she remembered.

“Oh, yes. He was a participant in the chess competition…”

Once she’d recalled this, she looked back down at the list. The third prince, a foreign transfer student, and the nephew of a Sage.

What an interesting bunch…

They had six months left until graduation. The list still in her hands, Lindsey prayed that time would pass without too many big surprises.

Glenn Dudley was a typical boy. He had two parents and two younger sisters. He loved physical activity and disliked studying. He often helped with chores around the house and was good at looking after people, so both his sisters were quite fond of him. He’d always figured he’d take over the family business one day and be the next to run the Dudley Butcher Shop.

But when he was eleven years old, his life changed forever.

All of a sudden, a bunch of important-looking adults—government officials, nobles, and the like—stormed into his family’s home and said this:

“We bring a prophecy from the Starseer Witch, one of the Seven Sages. If Glenn Dudley takes over his family’s business, this kingdom will fall to ruin.”

Even a poor student like Glenn knew of the Starseer Witch. She was the greatest prophet in Ridill. After that, the adults surrounded him, brought him to the royal castle, and measured his mana capacity. The result shocked everyone. His capacity was far greater than that of most high mages.

Magecraft wasn’t something you saw every day. Glenn was surprised to hear he had the talent for it, but he was also excited. The greatest prophet in the land had seen his potential and had picked him out. He felt like the main character in a novel.

After that, Glenn was enrolled at Minerva’s, the foremost mage training institution in the kingdom. And, incredibly, the steep fees required were to be paid in full by the government.

His family was overjoyed at the thought of their son moving up in the world, and Glenn was proud of himself. His innocent, boyish heart longed to learn all sorts of incredible spells at Minerva’s and one day save the kingdom from a great danger, just like the hero Ralph.

He had no idea just what form this danger would take, however.

Despite Glenn’s initial excitement, his days at Minerva’s weren’t much fun.

Most of the other kids were the children of nobles, and so the basic education courses were much more difficult than those offered at regular public schools. He did poorly even in these, to say nothing of his magecraft classes, and his classmates openly mocked him for it. They wondered why he, a commoner, was even there. They teased him for being an idiot who just happened to have a greater-than-normal mana capacity.

He was frustrated and ashamed. He wanted to get back at them somehow, to prove them wrong. And so he began to practice practical magecraft skills after only three months at the school.

Normally, this subject was added to a student’s curriculum once they’d studied for six months. But Glenn was possessed by the powerful desire to win, particular to young boys his age, and so he began practicing in secret.

Though he had fallen hopelessly behind in his class on magecraft formulae, mana control was something of a specialty for him. He would simply focus his mana into the palm of his hand and mold it like clay. If he then added in whatever formula he could remember, he could cast spells with surprising ease.

His first successful attempt was a spell to create flame. He wound up with a fireball so big, it would take two adults with their arms spread out to match its circumference. Not many students at Minerva’s could create one that large. Glenn was so happy that he practiced hurling fireballs day after day—until one day, a male student approached him. The older boy was humming when he called out to Glenn.

“Hm-hmm. Heya, newbie. That’s some power you got there, eh?”

Apparently, he’d been spying on Glenn’s secret training. As he gazed at a boulder Glenn had scorched with his fireballs, his lips turned up in a grin. The boy was skinny and tall, with red hair. Glenn was above the average height for his age, but this boy was a whole head taller. He must have been several years older.

“Hey, you ever had a magic battle?” the boy asked. “It’s when you use magecraft to fight inside a barrier.”

“Not yet, no.”

Glenn was still only allowed to practice fundamental mana control. That was why he was keeping his training a secret. What would he do if this kid reported him? He began to fidget nervously.

At that point, the young man made him an offer. “Then let’s have one. You and me. We won’t get hurt inside the barrier. That way, we can get real combat practice without any danger.”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not really supposed to be doing stuff like this yet…”

“Hey, no problem. We can just sneak out to the training grounds at night. With a magical item, anyone can put up a little barrier.”

Naturally, if they were found out, they would face harsh punishment. And yet the notion of secret nighttime training tickled Glenn’s boyish fancies. But, tempted though he was, he shook his head, telling himself it was a bad idea.

The young man grinned again. “Your magecraft is really somethin’ else, you know that? I’ve never seen a rookie make such a huge fireball.”

“Heh, heh-heh… R-really? You think?”

“Yeah. And you’ll go so much further with some combat training.”

Glenn broke into a smile. Ever since coming to Minerva’s, people had been telling him he was a failure. He was starving for approval. And so, against his better judgment, he agreed to the young man’s offer.

“I think I’d like to do it!” he said.

“Yeah? Perfect. I’ll show ya the ropes.”

What Glenn didn’t realize, however, was that this young man was notorious at Minerva’s for being an incorrigible problem child.

That night, in the forest, Glenn was running for his life. He didn’t even have a moment to wipe the sweat dripping down his cheeks.

Between gasps of air, he desperately stifled screams and whimpers. How had things turned out like this?

A fireball blazed behind him.

“Eeeek!”

On reflex, he dropped to the ground and rolled. A rain of fire arrows poured down on him, and he couldn’t dodge them all. Several hit him in the arm, and he felt the intense pain of their tips gouging out his skin. However, there were no burn marks on his body. In fact, his clothes hadn’t even caught fire.

Inside the barriers used for magic battles, mana-based attacks didn’t cause physical harm. You could still feel pain, but the damage depleted your mana reserves instead. Those arrows had just shaved off a whole lot of Glenn’s mana.

What is this? What’s happening here? What’s going on?!

Glenn knew he had to fight back, but his head was numb with terror. He couldn’t chant. He was so panicked, he didn’t trust himself to add two and two. There was no way he’d ever manage a complex magecraft formula.

“Hmm, hm-hm-hmm? That’s right, keep on running. The hunt’s more fun when the prey is desperate.”

The young man who had invited him here grinned and advanced slowly toward him. He used a quick-chant to produce more flame arrows and then sent them flying toward Glenn.

Crawling miserably along the ground, Glenn fled for his life. But an arrow still managed to stab him in the leg. He writhed in agony.

If every attack only further depleted his mana reserves, then he might as well use it all up as quickly as he could. Then, at least, he’d be freed from this pain.

But with Glenn’s abnormally high mana capacity, this was no easy task.

“No more!” pleaded Glenn, crying. “I can’t! I can’t take it!”

His upperclassman frowned, disappointed. “Sure you can. I know you can. You’ve got plenty of mana left, don’t you? C’mon. Shoot at me, just to see.”

He spread his slender arms wide, gesturing for the other boy to attack him.

Glenn, his mind a goopy mess of anger and terror, focused his mana. He couldn’t stand the pain anymore. He decided to use it up. All of it. He wanted it all to go away.

But as he channeled everything he had into whatever half-baked formula he could think of, something inside him snapped.

His vision went white.

“Oh.”

By the time the upperclassman’s remark made it to his ears, Glenn was already out cold, oblivious to the havoc his fireball had unleashed.

Glenn awoke to dazzling rays of morning sun shining in through the window. The room’s curtains were open; his roommate must have done that.

Lying face up in bed, Glenn covered his eyes with his hands. His palms, his face, his back—his whole body was slick with cold sweat. He felt awful.

The sound of that terrible young man’s humming clung stubbornly to his ears.

“Talk about nightmares…”

When he sat up, all his muscles screamed in pain. He could hold himself up with his arm, but that hurt, too. He was still feeling the aftereffects of the dragon’s curse from winter break. The bruises had disappeared, but he’d been told the pain would persist for some time.

His roommate was nowhere to be found; he’d probably gone to have breakfast already. Maybe I should go back to sleep…, Glenn thought lazily, still sitting up.

Just then, he heard a pounding at the door. “Glenn Dudley! How long do you intend to laze around in bed?!”

The owner of this shrill voice, barking orders so early in the morning, was Cyril Ashley, student council vice president. Word had probably gotten to him via Glenn’s roommate.

Glenn got out of bed and called out toward the door, “VP? Good mo—”

But before he could finish, he felt pain shoot through his left leg. The curse again. If he put too much weight on it, the top of his foot hurt like someone was smashing it with a hammer.

“Urghh…ugh…” He crouched down, groaning.

On the other side of the door, Cyril spoke again. He sounded worried. “Are you not feeling well? I can tell the housemaster—”

“I’m fine!” Glenn said quickly. “I just stubbed my toe getting out of bed!”

“Oh. Very well… Elective classes start today. Be sure to remember your class materials.”

As Cyril’s footsteps grew distant, Glenn breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve.

He didn’t want anyone to find out the curse was making his whole body hurt. If that little girl Eliane heard, she’d probably be shocked.

Glenn liked his current life. He didn’t want to make any of his friends or upperclassman here at Serendia worried or sad for him.

I can do this, he told himself, reaching for the uniform hanging on the wall.

It was the first day of elective classes after the winter break, and Eliane Hyatt, daughter of the Duke of Rehnberg, was packing up her things to prepare for her next class. Once she was finished, she quickly stood up and cast a pleasant smile at the classmates she usually walked with.

“I have something to turn in,” she said. “I’ll see you all again later.”

She left the classroom, walking as fast as was appropriate for a noble girl like her. She wasn’t heading to the faculty room, however—or to her elective class, for that matter.

If he’s moving from his classroom to the fundamental magecraft class, he’ll have to pass this way…

Eliane stopped at the corner and nervously glanced around. As she waited for a certain person to appear, she began playing with her hair for no reason.

Eventually she heard a familiar voice from around the corner. It was more energetic, more enthusiastic than that of most of the other students. This was a school for noble children, after all. At any rate, there could be no mistaking who it was.

With an extremely natural gait, Eliane rounded the corner.

I was passing through this hallway on my way to turn something in, and I just happened to run into Lord Glenn. So I stopped and said, “Good day to you, Lord Glenn. Thank you for all your help during winter break. How are you feeling?” …Yes, that’s very natural. The most natural thing in the world.

Satisfied with her perfect plan, Eliane closed the distance between them—and then she froze.

A tall female student was walking next to Glenn. She had straight black hair, pale skin, and lapis lazuli eyes. She was so incredibly beautiful that anyone who saw her would sigh in admiration. It was Claudia Ashley.

While she was tall for a girl, she and Glenn were well-matched; side by side, they looked surprisingly impressive. But why was Claudia walking next to Glenn?

As Eliane stood there, stock-still, Glenn noticed her and stopped. “Oh? Hey, it’s Elly. Good to see you again!”

“Y-yes, well. Good day to you…”

Once she saw the two of them together, all the lines she’d rehearsed in her head vanished. She fidgeted, unsure of herself, as Claudia stared at her with those doll-like lapis eyes. Claudia had no interest in her. She was simply gazing at whoever was standing in front of her in the hall. Eliane, however, was very conscious of Claudia, and this stung her pride and made her feel inferior.

“I must say, Lord Glenn, I had no idea you were such good friends with Lady Claudia.”

Claudia scowled slightly at the sarcasm in Eliane’s voice and murmured, “We are not friends.”

“Yeah, we’re great friends!” Glenn called out loudly, drowning Claudia out.

Despite her impassive expression, it was obvious Claudia was annoyed. In a low voice, she clarified, “I was only walking with Neil…”

Belatedly, Eliane realized that there was another boy hiding in Claudia’s shadow—the student council’s general affairs officer, Neil Clay Maywood. He was Claudia’s fiancé.

Neil was plain and small-statured, so he didn’t often stand out. And whenever he was with Glenn or Claudia—who both easily caught one’s attention—his presence grew even weaker. Eliane was embarrassed she hadn’t seen him.

Neil directed a friendly smile at Eliane. “Hello, Miss Hyatt. I heard about the cursed dragon incident. That must have been quite difficult.”

“It was. Thank you for your consideration.”

Eliane wasn’t particularly close with Neil, but they were acquainted. His father frequently visited Duke Rehnberg’s mansion on business. Baron Maywood was a nationally recognized mediator and was well-known among Ridillian nobility. She’d heard he’d recently been traveling around, mediating disputes over the Dragon Knights’ new outpost whenever they cropped up.

His family was much lower in rank than Eliane’s, but one couldn’t afford to disrespect the Maywoods. So Eliane suggested an inoffensive topic.

“Lord Maywood, you seem close with Lord Glenn,” she said. “Are you in the same elective class?”

“Yes, we are. Fundamental magecraft, to be specific. What about you, Miss Hyatt?”

“I’m taking music class. I’m afraid I’m still very inexperienced, however.”

“I think you’re being modest. I’ve heard you play the harp before. It was wonderful.”

“Oh! Well, thank you for the compliment.”

As she spoke to Neil, Eliane kept glancing over at Glenn. Why don’t you ask me to play the harp? If you really insist, I suppose I could put on a little performance for you in the music room after school…

She looked at him with expectant eyes, and Glenn grinned. “When you and Neil talk, it’s kind of adorable.” He looked like an older boy watching over the neighborhood children.

Neil’s eyes took on a hollow cast; he was self-conscious about his baby face and short stature. Eliane’s mouth twitched; she, too, was self-conscious about looking like a child.

Just then, Glenn’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze was focused somewhere behind Eliane. She turned around and saw a male student walking their way.

He was tall, with spiked red hair that seemed to blaze like a flame. He had a narrow jaw and long, thin limbs. His features reminded her of a praying mantis. His clothes were loose and untidy, and he wasn’t wearing the uniform’s stipulated gloves. Instead, he had on an earring and several large rings on his fingers.

…A delinquent, she thought.

Glenn was watching him with an awfully tense expression. Did they know each other?

The red-haired boy opened his mouth to yawn, then said, “Hey, I’m looking for the advanced fundamental magecraft class. Where is it?”

As soon as the question was out of his mouth, Glenn’s face twisted with anger. Eliane had never seen him make such an expression before. He was always so cheerful.

“What do you think you’re doing here?!” Glenn demanded, loudly enough to shake the window panes.

Eliane’s shoulders jolted. Claudia was impassive as always, but Neil watched Glenn in blank amazement.

The red-haired boy stuck a finger in his ear, unfazed. “Who are you?” he asked Glenn.

“……Rrrgh!”

“Have we met somewhere before? I don’t remember. And if I don’t remember, that probably means…”

The boy’s gaze grew distant, as if he were trying to recall something. Then he turned back to Glenn, a dismissive look on his face as a thin smile formed on his lips.

“…that you’re a loser, right?”

Eliane heard a grating noise, and belatedly realized it was Glenn’s teeth. He was breathing heavily and leaning forward, like a wild dog ready for a fight. But before he could take a step toward the boy, Neil moved in front of him.

“Would you happen to be one of the transfer students?” he asked. “The advanced fundamental magecraft class is down those stairs and to the right. It’s the third classroom.”

“Hm-hmm. I see. Thanks.”

The red-haired boy said nothing more. He simply turned and left.

Glenn continued to glare at his back until he disappeared around the corner.

Monica’s two electives were chess and horseback riding. The first of these to be held after winter break was chess.

I’m so glad chess is up first…

There were several different parties on the lookout for her at the moment. First was Felix—he’d realized that the Silent Witch was here at Serendia Academy, and that her left hand was injured. The second was whoever had been investigating Monica Norton in Kerbeck, though she still had no idea who that was. And finally, Huberd Dee, her senior from Minerva’s. Bernie had informed her about his transfer. Huberd still didn’t know she was at the academy, but she had to assume he’d recognize her the moment he laid eyes on her.

How am I supposed to attend school like this, much less guard the prince…? Oof, ugh… My stomach hurts…

Since Huberd could potentially disrupt her mission, Monica had already discussed the matter with Isabelle. She and the servants from House Norton would be taking turns observing his movements. That said, Isabelle was a first-year, Monica was a second-year, and Huberd was a third-year, which meant Isabelle would have trouble keeping track of him. And if any House Norton servants were seen loitering around the third-year classrooms, people would get suspicious.

So Monica had to be on alert at all times as well, to ensure he never got close to her. Even now, she kept a careful watch on everyone around her as she moved through the halls. When she finally reached chess class, she sat down in her empty seat and collapsed onto the desk.

Two male students sat down next to her—the droopy-eyed Elliott Howard and the flaxen-haired musician Benjamin Mording. Both of them took chess as well.

“Ah, I can hear it! A symphony of lament. Sadness and distress, pounding on the heart like rain, tears spilling from their eyes to join the downpour and flowing into the sea. And at the end of their journey, they shall reach a single answer. Will it be the determination to face despair? Or the resolve to lose everything? Ahhh, what sights did those travelers see? The final movement will lay everything bare! …Your face is that of a traveler just before that final movement, Miss Norton. Are you quite all right?”

“…Umm…”

As Monica searched for what to say, Elliott narrowed his eyes. “Translated, that means, ‘You look miserable. Are you okay?’”

“Miserable! To take a single word and gather up its musicality, and to open up one’s mind and view the world through a greater lens, and then to play that music and perform it—that is the very essence of a musician! Do you understand?!”

Benjamin now seemed lost in his own world. Monica offered him a pained smile. “Umm, I’m sorry for worrying you,” she said. “I’m okay.”

She had a mountain of problems to deal with, but for now, she just wanted to forget all that and focus on chess.

Professor Boyd, the bald-headed chess teacher, opened the door and entered the classroom. He was built like a mercenary, covered in rippling muscles.

“Settle down,” he called out to his students. Then he glanced toward the hall. “We have a transfer student. Come in.”

When she heard the words “transfer student,” Monica immediately pictured her senior from Minerva’s, the one she’d just been worrying about—Huberd Dee.

Oh no… Could it be him?!

As it turned out, Monica’s worries were unfounded—but the transfer student was someone she knew.

The boy walked in, tall with black hair, his steps like a soldier’s. He stood at ease, then raised his voice. “My name is Robert Winkel. I’m a first-year in the advanced class. I look forward to receiving your instruction. Thank you.”

In perfect sync, Elliott and Benjamin both turned to look at Monica. They were just in time to see her eyes roll back in her head as she began to lose consciousness.

After losing to Monica in the chess competition, Robert Winkel had proposed to her so they could keep playing together and had been roundly rejected. Though he was originally from the Kingdom of Landor, he had been studying at the Temple-Affiliated University in Ridill. But as soon as he returned from the competition, he immediately applied to leave that institution and enroll at Serendia Academy. His teachers had gone white in the face. They’d tried to stop him. But Robert’s resolve was tougher than steel.

He wanted to become the greatest chess player in the world. That was the only reason he’d come to the Kingdom of Ridill in the first place—it had more players than Landor. Sure, there were plenty of strong opponents for him back at the University, but he had already surpassed them all. It was only natural he should wish to enroll at a school with better players.

And most importantly, coming to Serendia would allow him to challenge Monica Norton, the one who had defeated him, as often as he liked. And if he could get her to accept his proposal while they were still students, he could play chess with her as much as he liked even after graduating. It was his plan for a perfect life.

But Robert was worried about something.

He was proficient in chess, book learning, horseback riding, and swordsmanship, but when it came to love and romance, he was a rank amateur. He had no knowledge of what sorts of things made a girl happy.

So after leaving the University, he decided to go back to his homeland of Landor for a time and ask his four elder brothers what to do, sure that his ever-reliable siblings would give him some beneficial advice.

He’d gone to them and asked very seriously, “If there was a girl you really, really wanted to woo, what sort of things would you try?”

Robert was the youngest child, and when he asked this question, his brothers’ eyes lit up.

“You’ve grown so much, Robert!”

“Our little Robert used to think of nothing but chess!”

“I can’t believe our adorable little brother’s all grown up!”

“He’s finally found a girl!”

His brothers had whooped and hollered, and then they’d each given him their own special advice.

His eldest brother flexed his powerful arms and said, “Women love a man with muscles! Robert, you’ve got great muscles already. Use them to attract her. Especially your arms, you hear? Women are all weak to a man’s arms!”

Robert mentally took note of this. Arm muscles. Got it.

His next eldest brother flashed him a sweet, beguiling smile. “What’s most important is how compatible your bodies are. Robert, I saw yours a lot when you were little, so I can make this guarantee. You’re sure to satisfy any girl down there. Have confidence, be bold, and go on the offensive.”

Out of all his brothers, the second eldest was the biggest womanizer, and had the most experience. If he said Robert’s size down there was important, then he figured that was probably true.

His third eldest brother had longish hair he swept back with a comb. “I think our elder brothers would do well to use their heads a bit more. If you want to make a girl happy, there’s no better way than with a poem. Write a poem filled with your feelings for her, and she’ll be overjoyed.”

“I’ve never written a poem before,” Robert said dubiously.

“No problem,” insisted his brother firmly. “When in need, use flowers. Metaphors, similes. Something simple, like, I walked through the garden, and it reminded me of you.”

This was quite vague, but Robert was impressed. His third brother was a master of the pen, and the things he said always hit differently.

His youngest elder brother picked up one of their pet dogs and said gently, “Our family has three cute puppies, and they’re all so clever! That’s the best way to approach her. See, Robert? Anyone would be over the moon to join a family with such lovely dogs. Don’t you agree? I’m sure your girl will think so, too.” His brother held up the stern-faced military dog and rubbed his cheek against it. “I mean, just look at how cute they are!”

Robert made another mental note: Make sure to tell her about the family dogs.

And so, armed with his brothers’ advice, Robert Winkel had once again crossed the border into Ridill and made his way to Serendia Academy—all to find Monica Norton, challenge her to a rematch, and convince her to accept his engagement proposal.

“Hey. Miss Norton, wake up. Hey!”

Monica awoke to Elliott shaking her shoulder and realized it was already time for free play. Oh, that’s right. Chess. Let’s play chess. I can empty my mind by playing chess…, she thought, coming back to herself just as a boy strode boldly toward her. Needless to say, it was Robert. It was the middle of winter, but he had his jacket off and his shirtsleeves rolled up as far as they would go.

He stopped right in front of her. “It is good to see you again, Miss Monica.”

“Y-yes!” she replied, her face pale as she vigorously nodded.

Robert took a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. “I wrote a poem for you.”

“…What?”

“Please listen.”

Then, with an earnest expression, he began to read the poem aloud in a clear, sonorous voice.

“When I looked at the white flowers in the garden, they reminded me of white knights.

Your knight fork on move thirty-nine was truly beautiful.

I want to play chess with you again.

I will never forget how you moved the pieces.

—Robert Winkel”

He’d modulated his baritone to sound pointlessly sweet. The classroom went dead silent; his words seemed to echo across the space. The other students, in the middle of their chess games, listened with bated breath.

Elliott, in the seat right next to Monica, looked like he had no idea what to say. And Benjamin was muttering to himself, “Was that a poem? Really? But it had no music… No beauty…”

“Robert Winkel, please be quiet during matches,” warned Professor Boyd brusquely.

Robert obediently hung his head. “Yes, sir. I’m terribly sorry for making a nuisance of myself in this sacred hall of chess. Please forgive me. I wanted to convey my feelings to her as soon as possible.”

Monica, now the center of attention, felt a stinging pain in her stomach. From context, she figured Robert’s poem was his way of telling her he wanted to play another game of chess with her.

If he’s just asking for a match… That’s, um, that’s fine, right?

As she wondered what to do, Robert took out another piece of paper and held it out to her. “And please take this.”

“Um, err, what is it?”

“It is a sketch of my family’s dogs. Not to brag, but I believe I drew them quite well.”

Monica gingerly took the paper, which was folded in half, and gently spread it out. On it were three…objects…of some sort that seemed to have four legs each. According to Robert, they were his family’s pet dogs. On the whole, the drawing was jagged, with many harsh lines. It would have given Cyril Ashley’s blobby sketches a run for their money.

Umm, he’s waiting for me to say if I like the drawing…isn’t he? As she wondered what to do, he continued.

“I also ask that you please reconsider the matter of our engagement.”

Wait, how did he get there?! Monica was dumbfounded, her mouth agape. Next to her, Elliott and Benjamin paused their game, grave looks on their faces.

“I have a bad feeling,” murmured Elliott. “It’s the competition all over again. This is going to get very annoying…”

“Ahh, what a disaster,” murmured Benjamin. “His approach has a fatal lack of music. He is utterly devoid of sensibility…”

Their words didn’t reach Monica. Robert leisurely took a seat across from her and began to arrange the pieces on the board. “Let us begin our match.”

“Oh. Uh, okay…”

She didn’t understand why he was doing any of this. I guess he just wants to play chess, she thought, deciding not to overthink it.

As she slowly set up her side of the board, she glanced at Robert’s uniform; it had been bothering her for a while now. “Umm… Isn’t it, um, cold to have your sleeves rolled up like that?”

“It is no problem at all. I work out every day.”

“Oh. Okay…”

Monica wondered if this was some kind of cultural difference. Perhaps everyone in Landor rolled up their sleeves in the middle of winter.

As she was mulling this over, Robert spoke again, as if he’d just remembered something. “Oh, yes. There’s something else.”

“Um, what is it?”

“My brother said I’m pretty big. So I think I will be able to satisfy you, Miss Monica.”

What’s big, exactly? ……His height?

Confused, Monica simply said, “Oh,” and left it at that.