The Weak (2)

Professor Muniher entered the room, leading Charlotte inside.

The metal rings clasped around each of her wrists immediately caught my eye.

Mana Restraints...

They were magical implements designed for criminals, used to completely suppress and sever the flow of mana so the wearer couldn't weave a single spell. The fact that Charlotte was wearing them suggested that the disciplinary committee intended to proceed with her punishment as originally slated. Yet that only deepened the puzzle of why they had come to see me. If their sole purpose was to pass judgment, there was no reason to bring her to my bedside.

"I would like to ask a few questions regarding the exact circumstances of the incident," Professor Muniher said.

Just as I thought.

Having Charlotte present was unexpected, but it seemed Professor Muniher was looking for grounds to grant her leniency. Even setting my own feelings aside, having Charlotte shoulder the full blame for this would do more harm than good. In that case...

"May I ask how much you already know, Professor?"

"Hmph. Last I checked, I was the one asking the questions."

"I only wish to correct any misunderstandings. While I might technically be considered a victim here, I am also the primary witness."

Professor Muniher rubbed his chin with an index finger, lost in thought. After a moment, he gave a slow nod and turned to Charlotte, asking her to recount her statement once more.

"When I first encountered Senior Junon... I had just left my team after a continuous string of disagreements with my teammates..."

Charlotte laid out the facts for Professor Muniher, but she deliberately left certain details unsaid. She omitted our private conversation entirely. She made no mention of trying to question me as I headed toward Noel and John, nor did she speak a single word about the strange powder coating the Giant Kud Rat that had ambushed us. By staying silent on things that might arouse suspicion or cast me in an unfavorable light, she was silently choosing to defer to whatever explanation I gave.

"After that, Senior grabbed my arms and collapsed against me... until the others eventually found us."

It appeared she had delivered the exact same account to Professor Muniher earlier. Once Charlotte fell silent, the professor shifted his gaze toward me. It was my turn to speak.

"Her statement matches what I remember for the most part. That is, if you strip away the frantic hysterics and exaggerations from Noel and John."

"Hmm... Is that so?"

Professor Muniher was sharp enough to realize that Charlotte's actions hadn't been a premeditated assault. Even so, the sheer convenience of our aligned testimonies seemed to raise an eyebrow. He glanced between Charlotte and me a couple of times before letting out a soft sigh.

"Well, it is not unheard of for Kud Rats to infest the underground waterways... but their abnormal growth was undoubtedly spurred by the monster blood tainting the runoff sewage."

There was a reason he arrived at that conclusion without pressing the matter further despite his lingering doubts. In essence, he was choosing to turn a blind eye this once.

"Since the victim himself testifies to that effect, no formal disciplinary action will be taken. However, Lady Charlotte, it is clear that you require reliable companions if you are to learn proper control over your power."

After explaining the nature of Charlotte's constitution and the risks of a Mana Rampage, Professor Muniher strongly advised her to join an official team. He wasn't wrong. If she ever encountered a magical beast alone again, she would inevitably lose control, and without someone capable of restraining her, the resulting casualties would only mount. The professor even went so far as to recommend a specific group, mentioning that Goden was currently scouting members.

I had briefly worried that my interference might prevent Charlotte from joining Team Tembris, but it seemed my concerns were entirely unwarranted.

"Well, I believe that covers everything I needed to convey. Junon, once you have recovered, report to my office first."

"I will, Professor."

"Lady Charlotte, please conclude your business quickly and step outside. You still have explanations to provide elsewhere."

"...Yes, Professor."

Given that he hadn't brought up the Start-of-Semester Evaluation, it seemed the exam results were being processed as usual. While some students might have barged into a faculty office to complain about their marks, I had no interest in petty disputes over grades. Why bother, when a senior professor had practically offered to tutor me one-on-one? Professor Muniher had basically used a roundabout way of telling me to come receive private instruction once I healed, and with that, he swept out of the room.

Which leaves...

Only Charlotte remained. A heavy silence settled over the infirmary as the door clicked shut, leaving the two of us alone once again.

"Um... Senior? May I... ask you a question?"

"Could you drop the honorifics and just talk normally? It's making me uncomfortable. We're only two years apart."

I couldn't fathom why she was addressing me like some grand noble or high dignitary. It wasn't as though she were speaking to the Grand Duke or the Emperor. While she technically owed me a debt for what happened, I had my own secrets to keep, so calling us even was the fairest assessment. Besides, keeping things on casual, ordinary terms was the cleanest way to manage my distance from her.

"Oh. Right. Yes... normally... I'll speak comfortably..."

Charlotte fidgeted nervously, visibly wrestling with how to begin. When she finally found her voice, the question she chose caught me slightly off guard.

In truth, Charlotte was terrified to speak. Considering what she had done, she feared that anything she said might offend him or reopen fresh wounds. Yet she dredged up her resolve nonetheless, because there was something she desperately needed to hear.

"...Aren't you going to ask... how I ended up like that?"

Having retained every single memory of my past life, there was no way I didn't know. It was simply the inevitable consequence of her Mana Rampage, and I saw no reason to dredge up such an unpleasant topic.

"Asking that would only upset you. There's no point."

"Upset... me?"

The moment the words left my mouth, Charlotte's hands clenched tight against the fabric of her skirt.

"What's done is done. You can't turn back the clock. Just make sure you don't repeat the mistake, and leave it at that."

To think he wouldn't utter a single word of resentment, even after being pushed to the brink of death. What on earth had she done to someone like him? Charlotte's head sank lower, the truth tumbling from her lips before she could stop it.

"I'm... so sorry... I had no idea my mana possessed such a volatile nature... N-No, that's just an excuse..."

She shook her head vigorously, taking a ragged breath to steady her racing thoughts before forcing herself to continue.

"I was ignorant, and I was so desperate to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠draw out every ounce of power that I brought this on myself. Because of me, you were grievously injured, and your evaluation exam was completely ruined... I'm so, so sorry."

Watching her now, this felt like the real Charlotte. Sharp and capable on the surface, yet clumsy and fragile underneath — a child desperately trying to play the part of a mature adult. Someone who wanted to grow up faster than time would allow. That was the essence of who Charlotte Eshrelt was.

Though her pale blue hair fell forward to veil her expression, I could hear the faint, muffled tremors of her sniffling. When children make their first catastrophic mistake, their immediate reaction is almost always to panic and burst into tears.

A familiar voice from the past echoed softly in my mind.

'Charlotte's most terrified of losing control. Know why?'

'If someone's stronger than her, they can hold her down. But a weaker person can't.'

'She doesn't despise you because you're weak, Junon. She can barely keep a grip on herself, so she's constantly terrified of hurting someone else. That's why she pushes people away. So don't take it to heart, alright?'

Goden had been right all along.

It had never been born of genuine malice or hatred. She was simply terrified of her own potential to harm others. And having finally brought someone to grief with her own two hands, the crushing weight of that guilt must have been agonizing for a girl with such a fragile heart. All this time, Charlotte had lashed out at the weakest links around her, shoving them away with harsh words just to keep them safe from herself. Telling them to know their place, declaring that human limits were absolute no matter how hard one tried, insisting that dead weight had to be cut loose.

Yeah. You were right, Goden.

No matter how convincingly she mimed the poise of a seasoned adult, crises like this tore away the veneer, laying bare the vulnerable child beneath. She was still only seventeen years old. At an age where anyone else would be sheltered and looked after when life spun out of control, she had carried the world on her shoulders. In Team Tembris, she had been the youngest, showered with boundless affection as the cherished maknae of the group. That was who Charlotte Eshrelt truly was.

Slowly, the injured patient lifted an arm that had only just regained a fraction of its mobility. His hand settled gently atop the girl's pale blue hair, patting her trembling back with slow, comforting strokes, coaxing the coiled tension ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from her hunched shoulders.

"Se... nior...?"

"Don't beat yourself up over it. I'll be back on my feet before you know it."

"*Hic...*"

Her small fists bunched tighter, crumpling the fine, luxurious fabric of her skirt into deep creases. And then, unable to contain the tidal wave of emotion any longer, the girl wept aloud. For someone who had spent the last several hours feeling like an irredeemable criminal, the weight lifted from her chest was overwhelmingly vast.

Right. Sometimes having a good cry is the best way to let it all out.

Charlotte Eshrelt.

In a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pitiless world, the people she called parents had left her behind with nothing but an empty estate and a towering mountain of debt. Her fierce determination to survive had guided every step she took, and in many ways, her philosophy had been proven right. By awakening her talents early and pairing them with brilliant administrative acumen, she had carved out a position of commanding respect that few could ever hope to rival.

Yet even if her path was the correct one, could anyone truly call it gentle? Far from it. In charging down that solitary road, she had weathered the world's harshest blizzards and fiercest tempests, worn down to the bone in the process. A neglected child who had tried to become an adult far too quickly had finally stumbled and fallen. Not over some stray pebble in the road, but over her own racing feet.

She would be alright now.

Those future companions of hers would step in to shelter and guide her. They would scold her when necessary, praise her when deserved, and help her build the warm memories of a proper youth while she matured into an adult at her own pace.

For now, Charlotte, just cry to your heart's content.

With the conclusion of the Start-of-Semester Evaluation and the treatment of the wounded students, the incident quietly drew to a close.

The student body loudly grumbled about whether the examination's difficulty had been miscalculated yet again, while the faculty found themselves wrestling with fresh perplexities. Having witnessed the Giant Kud Rats firsthand, Professor Muniher had grasped the severity of the situation immediately and launched a thorough investigation.

Yet until that inquiry yielded answers, one baffling mystery remained entirely unsolved: why had the monstrous rodents grown progressively weaker as time went on?

Aside from Junon himself, only one other person held the answer to that riddle.

"Junon... who on earth are you...?"

Strands of reddish-brown hair spilled softly across the dense pages of an open botanical compendium. Resting directly beneath those auburn tresses was an entry detailing a plant whose name Michel had come to know all too well.

Bathed in the warm, flickering glow of the desk lamp, Michel's reddish-brown hair remained bowed over the open compendium for a long, quiet while. Remembering the face of that strange male student — a boy who acted as though he could gaze directly into the future — Michel found herself agonizing once more ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over the parting words he had left her with.

'In return, I'd prefer it if we didn't cross paths again.'