Denial (6)
"Aris. If something's wrong, please just talk to us."
She had touched the one nerve she never should have grazed. The consequences had rebounded upon her with devastating force, bringing her daily life crashing down in ruins.
Given the gravity of what she had done, the mere collapse of her everyday routine was a trifling price to pay. The resentful voice of a man once driven to the brink still seemed to ring in her ears like an auditory hallucination—so what did a bit of personal discomfort matter? She could not even begin to fathom the sheer weight of the burden and dread that had cornered him, pushing him far past the edge of a precipice.
She owed him her very life, yet she had unleashed bitter, furious words drenched in her own prejudices. Drowned in suffocating guilt, Aris found no peace. For days following that encounter, she had been unable to take so much as a single step outside.
It's Charlotte today...
Every now and then, members of the party came by, knocking on the door to check on her. One after another, they took turns visiting her quarters, but only silence greeted them from within, turning them away at the threshold. A day, two days—she hardly cared how the hours slipped by.
If I just stay quiet and wait, she'll leave on her own like the others...
Though they came repeatedly, the room's occupant had not spoken a single word. Aris did not doubt that this visitor, too, would eventually turn back if she simply waited long enough in silence.
"You know... do you know why I applied to this party?"
Contrary to expectations, Charlotte abruptly began telling her own story. Or perhaps her voice had been murmuring outside all along, and Aris was only now opening her ears enough to catch the words.
"They told me it was a Mana Rampage. Because the nature of my mana is inherently turbid, once I exhaust all of my human energy, I start acting like a demonic beast. That was why Professor Muniherr recommended that I join this place."
Aris wondered what any of this had to do with her. Yet the very next sentence pried her ears open against her will.
"Back then... I nearly hurt someone with my own hands. Completely against my will."
...What?
Aris, who had shut out the others with stony silence, strained her ears in utter bewilderment. Charlotte was the youngest member of their team, a mere girl—hearing that she had once tried to harm someone pulled all of Aris's scattered focus into sharp alignment.
"I lost all consciousness. I was smacking my lips like a monster, eyeing the person right in front of me as prey... I can't begin to tell you how disgusted I was with myself. But... do you know what was even terrifying?"
Aris swallowed hard, a lump of nervous tension sliding down her dry throat.
"That person... was an upperclassman who threw his own body on the line just to save me. I'm a truly spiteful, twisted person, aren't I?"
Aris gasped, the breath catching sharply in her chest. For several seconds, her lungs seemed to freeze entirely.
"Our first meeting was so strange. The day I set foot in the Principality, an unbearable headache hit me out of nowhere, and memories flooded into my mind. That was when I first saw him."
No way. Charlotte too?
Aris knew how absurd it sounded. She still had no clue who was sending these revelation-like memories or what their true nature was. And yet, Charlotte had experienced the exact same thing.
"Because of those memories, I held a terrible prejudice against him. But when I actually met him, he was completely different. He threw himself in harm's way to protect me—even though we were total strangers, and it was the first time we'd ever crossed paths."
"Still... watching him put his life on the line to save me left behind a kind of trauma. Some nights, the scene would play out in my dreams all over again. That day I spilled coffee all over you... I had tossed and turned all night because of it..."
With every word, a sharp pang jabbed at Aris's chest, as if a needle were pricking her lungs. What Charlotte was confessing struck far too close to home.
Yet a question flickered in the back of her mind.
If that was during the Start-of-Semester Evaluation... quite a lot of time has passed since then.
During all that time, Charlotte had shown no visible signs of distress. Aris found herself desperately wanting to know how she had managed to overcome such crushing psychological pressure.
"Aris?"
"...Come in."
Aris did not care what state she looked like. Right now, she simply needed to hear the rest of Charlotte's story. But as the younger girl stepped into the dorm room and Aris tried to ask what happened next, her voice failed her, catching in her throat.
Charlotte let out a long, heavy sigh. She announced that if Aris wanted to hear the rest, she would have to comply with a few conditions first.
Having little choice, Aris nodded. Charlotte stated that she would step out for just a moment.
Telling me not to move an inch until she gets back...
A short while later, Aris watched in dazed shock as Charlotte marched back into the room flanked by an entire squad of maids.
"Everyone, please handle this thoroughly."
"Understood, Lady Charlotte."
"Goodness, this lovely hair..."
"Heavens. Look at her skin!"
"She needs a complete overhaul from head to toe."
Seeing the fierce, fiery determination burning in the maids' eyes, Aris was suddenly seized with anxiety. A creeping sense of dread settled over her.
"We will be taking charge of your schedule for the day, Lady Aris."
"So please step aboard quietly. It will be terribly troublesome if you run."
"Oh, feel free to run if you wish. Though our lady might just hire mercenaries to kidnap you back."
Are they... growling at me?
Sensing the terrifying aura radiating from the maids, Aris cast a desperate, pleading look toward Charlotte.
"Ch-Charlotte... is this really okay...?"
"Aris."
The moment she met Charlotte's gaze, Aris realized the girl wore the exact same unrelenting expression as her staff.
"...All right."
What followed was an overwhelming whirlwind of activity she could scarcely remember. Bundled into a robe, she was ferried off in a carriage like cargo, arriving at a detached villa where the maids cheerfully ushered her straight into a bath. Not an inch of her was spared, from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet.
Once she was scrubbed until her skin practically shone, an extravagant feast of rich, nourishing dishes covered the dining table. Getting thoroughly cleaned up and eating a hearty meal—those were the two conditions Charlotte had demanded.
"Charlotte. I went along with everything you told me to do, but... was all this really necessary?"
"You don't understand why I did it, do you? I'm not surprised. I was just as crushed as you are now, once upon a time."
Charlotte offered a bittersweet smile. At last, the core issue that had derailed Aris's entire life surfaced between them.
"How could anyone simply ignore it? Memories like that... of course they're impossible to forget."
Aris looked down. Charlotte had undergone a similar experience, yet spoke as though there was nothing else to be done. It was easy to think the younger girl had simply coaxed her out of her shell to deliver a gentle lecture.
Yet Charlotte had no intention of deflecting the truth.
"But does falling apart change anything? Trapping yourself in guilt for the rest of your life won't undo a single thing."
That was why Charlotte had summoned her maids to pull Aris out of her spiral and restore her to her proper self.
Trudge. Trudge.
Her footsteps dragged so heavily she could hardly tell whether she was walking or scraping the soles of her shoes against the paving stones. Unable to face her teammates just yet, Aris wandered aimlessly across the academy grounds after leaving the dormitory.
"So I decided to repay him. Even if it's just a small contribution, I wanted to return the favor. And I couldn't do that if I broke down, so getting myself back on my feet was my top priority."
Charlotte was remarkably resilient. Unlike Aris, who had locked herself away in a room, paralyzed by anxiety, Charlotte possessed the sharp decisiveness befitting the youngest baroness and the leader of a prominent merchant guild.
Yet even Charlotte had not found an easy solution.
"To tell you the truth, he coldly rejected my offer to help. But... I couldn't just give up. He saved my life."
Charlotte had felt just as frustrated. Even so, rather than holing up to evade her guilt, a girl two years younger and three grades below her had made an entirely different choice. When she couldn't find a way forward on her own, she had sought counsel from her maids and retainers. She had acknowledged that feeling guilty was unavoidable, but allowing that guilt to swallow her whole was the worst possible answer.
Aris suddenly recalled Senia's sharp criticism regarding her overly emotional decisions.
"You always react on impulse and make a mess of things. If you want to avoid the worst outcome, choose the lesser evil."
She was right. I really am too emotional.
Aris finally admitted to herself that curling up alone in that dark room would never change reality. Charlotte had sought to pay him back, wanting to offer even a fraction of what she owed. Even after being caught trying to cover his medical bills and receiving a stern warning in return, she had refused to stay down. Instead, Charlotte lightened her own emotional burden by secretly covering the tuition of the senior who had rescued her during the Start-of-Semester Evaluation—using the academy's scholarship system as a clever cover so that he wouldn't notice her hand in it.
Could I... do something like that too?
Nothing immediately came to mind. Still, she wondered if there might be some way she could help. Just as the thought crossed her mind—
"It's weird... the real key to that defense was Junon."
"Right? The notice board doesn't make any sense..."
"Why isn't Junon even mentioned? Should we submit a correction to the paper?"
"Let's do it. Everyone knows the student press gets half their facts wrong anyway."
Nearby, two students were discussing the inaccurate report regarding the recent defense against the Orthoptera swarm. Judging by their conversation, they appeared to be students who had stood on the front lines during the siege at Alkaid Hall, following Junon's direct commands.
...This is it.
Junon had been the true anchor of the Alkaid Hall defense, yet he clearly wished to stay out of the limelight. Left unchecked, the truth he had tried so hard to conceal would be exposed before long. The two students strolling beside her were whispering their doubts, preparing to set the record straight.
Aris moved to step forward and stop them, determined to keep his secret safe. But before she could speak, a grey-white-haired girl nearby piped up.
"Don't bother. Junon asked us to let it slide because he really doesn't want the attention."
That girl is...?
It was Sylvia, the student widely known to spend a great deal of time around Junon.
"Why, though? He deserves an academy commendation for what he did."
"None of the frontliners have ever made a name for themselves like that. He has to take credit."
"That's what I'm saying! Why turn down that kind of honor? It's bizarre, Sylvia."
"Well... that's just how Junon is. He really hates being in the public eye."
"Really...?" both students asked in unison.
"Wait, come to think of it, he's always been pretty mysterious. Nobody ever knew anything about him. Did you know he even put Professor Kyope in her place once?"
"No way... I've only ever heard nasty rumors about him. I never knew that."
"There's actually more, but... the point is, Junon hates being talked about. He specifically asked me to just let people believe the official report."
"Hmm. I see."
"If that's what he wants, fair enough. We can let the other guys know, too."
"Could you... do that for me, please? There were so many people there, I can't track down everyone myself..."
"Of course, Sylvia!"
"You can count on us for stuff like this anytime. Jeez, you're always way too nice for your own good."
"Ah, haha... thank you."
The three students walked away together, their voices fading into the distance.
"...He already took care of it."
Aris hadn't expected him to be prepared to this degree. It occurred to her that, if she truly wanted to avoid causing him harm, simply staying out of his way might be the greatest help she could offer.
"That is quite the tale."
"Isn't it?"
"Hard to believe, to be frank."
Muniherr had just received a report from Dahlia that left him thoroughly dumbfounded. It bewildered him as the Chancellor of the Grand Duchy, as the strategist who had overseen the Canolatl subjugation and mop-up campaigns, and as an academic advisor.
"My dear, I know perfectly well how ridiculous it sounds. I know it's hard to accept."
When his wife Dahlia had first arrived, he had assumed it was routine business. He expected a brief update on academy affairs, the handoff of a regular report, and their usual exchange of tired pleasantries after a long day. Instead, Dahlia presented him with a boy's reaction that defied all reason.
"...Where on earth could a child that young have gained such experience?"
There was a recognized condition known as hemophobia—the intense, debilitating fear and revulsion triggered by the sight of blood. It was a common instinct, something many people were simply born with. Though its severity varied, the academy included specific training modules in its curriculum to help students overcome it. Only after an extensive investment of time could young combatants endure such psychological shocks and grow accustomed to bloodshed.
Even then, if asked whether anyone could witness exposed flesh and spilled viscera without flinching, few would dare answer with confidence. The students currently suffering from psychological trauma in the wake of the recent defense were proof enough.
Which was precisely why Muniherr could hardly believe his ears at Dahlia's testimony: during an emergency surgical procedure, the boy had not shown the slightest hint of hesitation.
Watching her husband's stunned face, Dahlia let out a dry, self-deprecating chuckle.
"You're making the exact same face I did. I probably looked just as foolish at the time. Anyone watching would have thought I'd lost my mind."
"...Dahlia. You've never been one for crude jokes, have you?"
"Even if everything else I've ever done seemed like a joke to you, I swear this isn't."
It was chilling to contemplate. A nineteen-year-old boy, barely in his third year, had stood impassively through a horrific surgery involving raw blood and shredded organs without batting an eye.
The couple gazed down at one half of the Belshuar Ark, its mana pool entirely drained, engulfed by a strange sense of déjà vu.
"For now, let us keep watch. He may carry a dark past, so be certain to treat him with care."
Looking at that boy, both of them had been reminded of the same person—a man who had possessed that very same shade of black hair. A name that neither of them would ever be able to forget.