Distrust and Hatred (8)
Haa. Think through this again, slowly, Ophelia.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment before opening them, turning the tangled questions over in her mind. Her intuition had never once steered her wrong when it came to the hidden hierarchies and insidious hazing festering within the academy's walls. And yesterday's clash between Junon and Aris had certainly looked like a textbook example of a one-sided assault.
The strong striking down the weak. Aris, a seasoned fighter who had frequently walked battlefields as a mercenary in other parties, had clearly been the aggressor against Junon. Even the location fit the pattern—a neglected, shadowy corner of the grounds, deliberately chosen to corner and crush the vulnerable far from prying eyes. Every piece of the sequence made sense. Except for one glaring contradiction.
But... why would Miss Aris attack Junon in the first place?
The scene had felt unnatural from the start, lacking any sensible motive. The only thing Aris had ever asked of her was a recommendation to join Goden's party. That desire had nothing whatsoever to do with ambushing Junon. In the end, she was thrown right back to square one: some deeply personal history, known only to the two of them, must have triggered the confrontation. And she had just heard Junon's side of it.
'I am... seeking to withdraw because my life is in danger.'
Aris had struck him, yes, but her attack had hardly seemed lethal. More to the point, looking at the aftermath of their clash, Junon was far from an easy target who could be casually overpowered. Which meant someone else entirely was after the young man's life.
It makes no sense at all.
Under the Grand Duke's wise rule, employment was steady and livelihoods were secure; serious crime was practically unheard of. Though young compared to the ancient empires, the Ardelion Principality boasted public safety that surpassed even historical superpowers. And yet, someone was facing a mortal threat within the Principality? Worse, within Lebrant Academy, the nation's premier institution?
Stop any passerby on the street and recount such a claim, and they would undoubtedly scoff that the speaker had lost his mind. Every student here possessed personal combat ability, and their standard uniforms were woven with defensive circles to shield them from sudden violence. How could anyone openly target someone's life amidst such dense crowds? Common sense dictated that any crime committed inside the academy would be exposed in an instant. In a capital where serious criminals were virtually nonexistent, he insisted his life was on the line.
Still, pressing him further would be dangerous.
Victims typically reacted with deep-seated anxiety when backed into a corner. Pushing harder would cross the line into an interrogation, producing the opposite of what she wanted. Her aim was to ease his burden, listen to his troubles, and offer help—not to interrogate him. She owed him a sincere apology for unintentionally cornering him, if only to ensure he did not resort to an extreme choice.
"I must apologize for frightening you," Ophelia said, softening her tone. "I suspected you were the victim, but I never imagined the circumstances were so grave."
She quietly shut off the interrogation magitech, dismantled the truth-extraction device, and swept them out of sight.
"I understand your distress. I give you my word that what you have shared today will remain strictly between us. However... would you please reconsider your withdrawal?"
"..."
"If you leave the academy now, you can never return. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
Junon merely shook his head at her gentle persuasion. To him, dropping out seemed the only conceivable way to escape the mortal danger hanging over his neck.
Assigning personal guards would feel no different from surveillance to him. Besides, it would draw unnecessary attention...
Ophelia was determined to find an alternative that would keep him from throwing away his future.
"You placed your trust in me and spoke candidly," she said, leaning forward slightly. "Won't you trust me in return, just this once?"
"...What are you suggesting?"
"If you remain at this academy, I will do everything in my power to safeguard your secret. I have already devised a temporary measure to ensure your protection."
The choice rests with you.
With those words, the compassionate noblewoman extended a lifeline.
"It feels as though I have been seeing quite a lot of Student Ophelia lately."
Professor Muniher deliberately addressed her as 'Student' rather than 'Lady' or 'Your Ladyship', setting the boundaries of their conversation from the outset. With the Class Assignment Exam fast approaching, he was obligated to maintain absolute neutrality. That meant he could not grant political favors to the ruling house of the Principality.
"I have come to consult with you in my capacity as the Head of the Student Disciplinary Committee, Professor Muniher," Ophelia replied smoothly, meeting him on equal footing as an academy student rather than the daughter of the Grand Duke.
She knew well that framing this as an academic consultation between student and faculty would leave no opening for formal complaints. Recognizing that she had no intention of pulling political rank, Muniher's lips curled into an amused smirk.
"Very well. Would you care for some tea?"
"Allow me to brew the chamomile tea myself, Professor. Considering your years, it is only proper."
"Heh. A polite one, aren't you? Showing such consideration for an old man."
"I appreciate the praise, but it is merely common courtesy, is it not?"
With their respective roles clearly established, two cups of fragrant tea were steeped, and the formal purpose of the interview was logged in the records before the discussion truly began.
"So then. What brings you to my office?"
"I am attempting to dissuade a student who wishes to withdraw. I came to ask if you might lend a helping hand in the matter."
"Hah, withdraw?"
The moment the word left her lips, Muniher let out a weary, irritated sigh. He was sick to death of hearing about withdrawals. Students giving up with absurd haste had become an exhausting nuisance, and dealing with their fragile mentalities had worn his patience paper-thin.
That fellow Junon tried the very same thing recently, didn't he?
Rejecting withdrawal petitions one by one was tiring enough, but in Junon's case, a hidden gem obscured by the academy's blind spots had tried to abandon his studies. The boy had even thrown out flimsy excuses in his desperation to leave, which had rubbed the professor entirely the wrong way. Having finally discovered a pupil worth molding after so long, Muniher had no intention of letting him slip away.
He leveled a steady gaze at Ophelia, silently urging her to continue.
"To be precise, it would be more accurate to describe him as an individual in dire need of protection."
"Protection? Here within Lebrant Academy?"
"Yes. In fact, precisely because it is Lebrant Academy, the need is all the greater."
Both agreed that losing a promising student was undesirable. Yet protecting one individual could not be allowed to cause excessive drain on resources or stir needless controversy. As the vice dean, Muniher had to find a pragmatic compromise.
"Mm. I understand the premise. So what is your request?"
"The student in question has caught the unfavorable attention of several noble scions and is currently enduring severe harassment. Therefore, I wish to borrow a certain 'object' of your creation."
"My object?"
Muniher's previously impassive brow twitched upward. Ophelia had explicitly chosen the word 'object' rather than 'artifact'. Granted, the boy required protection, but to deploy an object—and specifically one crafted by his own hands?
If she anticipated an organized assault by several nobles against a single student, that might warrant concern, but...
Even then, Ophelia or the Disciplinary Committee could simply intervene when the time came, especially if they already saw it coming. And when it came to protective objects of his own making, there was only one.
And yet, she asks for the Belshuar Ark...
To request such a device implied that a person's very survival hung in the balance. Whether such a dire crisis could truly be brewing inside the academy remained to be seen.
"First, may I meet this student myself?"
"That would be... somewhat difficult."
"Whoever bears the Belshuar Ark must be scrutinized to ensure they possess the necessary character. You know full well the risks inherent in its use."
Ophelia's hesitation was entirely understandable. To honor her promise of secrecy, keeping Junon away from direct contact with Professor Muniher was paramount. Like any victim subjected to the covert bullying of the academy's shadows, Junon needed distance from potential stressors. And so, she played a card she normally would never touch.
"Could you trust my judgment, just this once, and lend me the Belshuar Ark?"
For the sake of a boy who sought to flee because his life was on the line, Ophelia offered a plea backed by nothing but her personal guarantee. Though they had agreed to interact strictly as student and professor, she was asking him to put his faith in the daughter of the Grand Duke.
When I first heard her proposal, I had doubted my own ears.
'Wait here while I borrow a certain item. Rest assured, I will speak of this to no one.'
'Borrow... what, exactly?'
'You mentioned you were facing a threat, did you not? I intend to sign out a protective object.'
When it came to personal defense, people almost universally relied on portable artifacts. They were compact, practical, and ideal for countering humanity's primary adversary: demonic beasts. Yet the young lady had explicitly spoken of borrowing an 'object'.
She certainly holds the authority to sign one out, but... there aren't many objects housed within the Principality.
Facilities like the Mock Combat Room and the dueling grounds relied on large-scale academic objects. Massive defensive arrays and anti-beast installations fell into the same category. Unlike everyday artifacts, an 'object' possessed such immense magical scale that deploying one required stringent legal authorization. Because of their sheer output, misuse or negligence could trigger a localized catastrophe. That was the weight carried by the category known as an object.
Don't tell me she went straight to Professor Muniher...?
Come to think of it, the very artisan responsible for most of the prominent objects known to the public was residing right here on campus. The Talbrut Ark was his most famous creation, among several others. But I had heard her clearly—she had gone to fetch a protective object. Surely it couldn't be...
"My apologies for keeping you waiting."
The latch clicked, and the door swung open to the composed, gentle cadence of Lady Ophelia's voice. Stepping into the room, she produced an ornate security case and retrieved the borrowed piece.
"Allow me to explain its function. The name of this object is—"
She did not need to finish the sentence.
The Belshuar Ark...
At a glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a pair of bracelets engraved with mind-bogglingly intricate spell formulas and runic circles, all mapped out through dizzying calculations. It was a singular object crafted through an arduous process, refining lapis lazuli alongside eleven rare mineral ores. To an untrained observer, it might look ordinary enough—or perhaps like a white elephant buried under so much regulatory red tape that people preferred to ignore it.
Yet how could I fail to recognize it? How could I possibly stay calm? The words leaving Ophelia's lips barely registered over the roaring in my ears. My eyes burned as they took in every curve of the metal, and every nerve in my brain screamed in violent recognition.
I knew this piece. I knew it intimately from before my regression—an artifact I had hoped never to lay eyes upon again. It was the very bracelet that had marked the beginning of my twisted, ruined life in Party Tembris, driving me to curse the world itself.
"Do you understand its operation?"
"...Yes."
Ophelia concluded her explanation, satisfied that she had been clear. But in truth, I hadn't absorbed a single word. Staring at the Belshuar Ark had dragged my mind back into memories I had spent months trying to bury. Reduced to a hollow daze, I could hardly distinguish the sound of her voice from ambient static.
Having finished her briefing, the young noblewoman offered a parting reassurance.
"With this, should you ever find yourself in grave danger, that person will personally intervene. So please, put your mind at ease and continue your studies here at the academy."
My stomach plummeted.
The Belshuar Ark was a tether; its emergency signal had to be directed toward a specific recipient. I needed to know who held the counterpart. I had to ask, right now, who would receive the distress call.
"My Lady. Might I ask you to repeat—"
Before the question could leave my throat, the door burst open.
"My Lady! An urgent dispatch...! Ah, a guest... Forgive my intrusion!"
"Excuse me for a moment," Ophelia said briskly, rising from her seat. "I must step away."
"..."
She said 'a moment', but I had a sinking feeling she wouldn't be returning anytime soon. The soldier who had burst into the room was clutching a badly mangled shoulder—torn by the vicious bite of a beast—and panting heavily as he thrust the dispatch forward.
A few minutes later, after conferring with the messenger, Ophelia dispatched an attendant—likely one of her personal maids—to deliver her regrets.
"Her Ladyship has been called away on urgent business and instructed me to convey her apologies."
I didn't need to be told the details to know what had happened. Today was the date when the Canolatl pack—the very horde subjugated last year by Ophelia's expeditionary force and the Arkav Party—launched a retaliatory raid. The academy's garrison forces, led by Ophelia herself, had likely mobilized in full strength toward Scheat. It would be quite some time before they returned. Which meant that until she walked back through those doors, I had no way of knowing who was bound to the other end of this signal.
After the main deployment departed Lebrant Academy, I walked outside and found myself wandering through the oddly deserted streets.
What do I even do now...?
My mind was a tangled knot of conflicting choices. With the bulk of the academy's fighting force pulled away for the defense battle at Remterte, the campus was practically empty. In terms of timing, there would never be a better opportunity to slip away unnoticed. And yet, the parting warning Ophelia had delivered before retrieving the object weighed heavily on my shoulders.
'If you attempt to flee, I will expose everything and bring you right back, so consider yourself warned. Ah, and if that happens, members of the Disciplinary Committee will take turns watching over you around the clock. Strictly to guarantee your safety, of course.'
It was true... if I were shadowed by guards at all hours, I wouldn't have to fear being ambushed on some dark path if my former comrades came looking for me. But subjecting myself to around-the-clock surveillance by disciplinary officers just to keep me safe? How could that possibly be a sane solution?
In short, no matter how opportune the moment seemed, fleeing the academy was functionally impossible. Even if I broke out, they would track my location within days and drag me right back, turning any escape into an exercise in futility. Ever since falling onto Ophelia's radar, every exit had been firmly shut.
At least I have this in my possession...
The only silver lining was the guaranteed protection offered by the Belshuar Ark. If the members of Party Tembris ever cornered me again, spewing venom, hatred, and seeking retribution, I could activate the object the very instant things turned violent.
"...Still, the lesser of two evils is better than the worst."
At the very least, my life wasn't dangling by a thread like it had been an hour ago. They might drown me in curses and bitter resentment, but this time around, none of them would be driving a blade through my heart.