Crossed the Line (Revised)

A mage.

One who twists the truths of all things through mana and conjures forth miracles. One whose very existence makes the diligent and ordinary ache with longing for a talent they were never given.

The Academy was a place where only cadets bearing that talent could gather — and among them all, there was a girl currently hailed as the finest elemental mage in the entire student body. Disciple of the Magic Tower Master, and eldest daughter of Duke Renuel's house of mages. Her hair had turned blue from a body remodeled to drink in vast quantities of mana; a white robe draped over her shoulders, its hem kept just short of grazing the floor. A girl of perfectly average height — 167 centimeters — with a figure grown to match it.

Isabella von Renuel was, at this very moment, in an exceedingly foul mood.

The cause was none other than her former ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fiancé — the Academy's most notorious delinquent, the stain upon House Reinhardt's name. Or no, now that he had left the family, he could hardly be called the stain of House Reinhardt any longer. It was because of Jenison.

She, Jenison, Aria, and Allen could all be called childhood friends, and she had known as well that the engagement had been arranged for the sake of the ducal houses' ties and their futures. It was a betrothal made without a shred of consent from those involved — and yet Isabella, for her part, had rather liked it. Because she was in love with Allen.

If the Four Great Families wove themselves together through marriage, the strength of their houses would climb all the higher — and she had thought it a chance to be joined to him without ever having to do something as mortifying as confess. Yes — if only her betrothed had been Allen, and not his younger brother Jenison.

..Hah.

She had disliked Jenison from the very first moment she laid eyes on him. Unlike his elder brother Allen, his body was frail; unlike his younger sister Aria, he showed no particular brilliance either. To her he looked like nothing more than a defective product, made by mashing half of each of them together. And she was to be engaged to that of all people.

She was the eldest daughter who must uphold one of the Four Great Families, the one destined to bear the family's pillars — and so she had naturally believed her husband-to-be must possess strength and dignity in equal measure. Then why, of all people, had Jenison been chosen over Allen, the family's eldest son?

..I simply can't stand the sight of him. Truly.

No matter how he ran wild at the Academy, he always managed to slip free of punishment — whether because he was a duke's child, who could say — and she so despised him for it that she had simply gone on ignoring him. A man who wielded power however he pleased and evaded even the responsibility for it was, by her reckoning, the worst kind of person alive.

Even if complaints over her conduct found their way to her, she couldn't have cared less. She was the stronger of the two, after all. If he tried anything threatening under the pretext that she had slighted him, she need only crush it flat. And so she went on ignoring him, certain that the relationship between them would never change from there.

Until he stopped showing his face at the Academy altogether.

I haven't seen him around lately, have I?

Until now, however much she had dreaded the encounters, sharing a class had made them unavoidable. Not once in all that time had they gone this long without crossing paths, and she had finally let herself believe he had left the Academy for good. If that weren't so, there was no way not a single soul would have laid eyes on him for this long.

So he's finally gone, then. Truly..!!

Then one day, a letter arrived. Its contents ran as follows:

..He left the family?

It was an act the Jenison she knew would never, ever have committed. Curiosity flared in that instant, and she chased down his trail — soon confirming that he still remained at the Academy. When she asked a professor, she was told he had transferred to the general dormitory and, for reasons no one could fathom, was refusing to attend classes. The tidbit that his truancy could see him held back a year if it continued came as a bonus.

If things stayed as they were, she might never have to lay eyes on his face again — welcome news, that — and yet at the same time she found herself wondering what on earth he could be scheming, to go so far as to boycott school. A mage, after all, was one who probed the unknown.

There's no need to go looking for him, but.. if we do happen to meet, perhaps I'll ask.

With that thought, she entered the training grounds that day to practice her magic, as she always did.

Bright. Dazzling.

Sensations I hadn't felt in a very long time. They hit me the moment I flung the dormitory door wide open — and when I turned to look, my room stood crammed with every trace I had left behind. The marks of daily-life magic, basic spells, and a dozen others; mana circuits drawn in every shape; small blast craters from failed experiments and scratches and cracks of every variety.

And stains — born of the countless sweat I'd shed forging my body — covered every corner of the room, while my own body, in turn, had been etched all over with scars of its own. Torn and gouged flesh, calluses soaked deep into every inch of me — and the hands that had once been so fair had, before I knew it, become a map of wounds.

Well, I had been slacking on my training all this while.

Cursing my past self — the fool who had planned to coast through life on the strength of a ducal birth alone — I set about repacking my things at once and began sorting out what I needed to do first once I stepped outside.

Attendance.. attendance first.. and clothes — eh, no real need to change, I suppose.

The Academy recommended uniforms as a rule but never strictly enforced them — provided, of course, that your attire wasn't a nuisance to the other students or the professors. As it happened, I was still wearing the very clothes I'd walked out of the family in, so there was no pressing need to change. And yet —

Still, presenting myself for attendance drenched in sweat and assorted liquids of highly uncertain origin felt downright discourteous, so I promptly cast Clean — the daily-life spell that scours the body spotless — and in the same instant, every unpleasant crust clinging to my clothes took flight and vanished.

Daily-life magic really is convenient once you've actually learned it..

There I paused before the mirror for a moment, taking in a reflection far neater and cleaner than the one I'd worn of late — where a single boy with black hair and black eyes stood looking back at me.

Pretty face, no matter how I look at it — shame the body under it is a patchwork of scars.. honestly, they don't match at all.

Still, it was a face that would rank among the very best of all my lives, so I supposed I could be thankful for it. The superiority of Sariel's genes and the Duke's, perhaps?

..Honestly, I'd have rather not taken after the Duke.

Mulling over such idle thoughts, I turned my steps — and at last, for the first time in roughly fifty days, I set foot on the ground outside.

"Hey.. isn't that Jenison??"

"Uh.. wasn't that thug expelled..?"

"Great. This class is gonna be a fucking circus again for a while."

"No, I heard he got thrown out of his family??"

"What? So he's a commoner now?"

And sure enough, no sooner had I stepped into the classroom than the students began to stir, whispers hissing through the air. Without granting them so much as a glance, I made for the most secluded corner seat and sat down.

A lower-grade reaction than I'd expected. By now I'd assumed word that I'd become a commoner would have spread through the entire room.

Relieved that no projectile had come sailing my way, I slumped face-down onto my desk. No one took the seat beside me, and the murmurs aimed at my back only swelled louder and louder.

Was it true he was a commoner now? Did that mean they no longer had to fear the House of Reinhardt's reprisal? All manner of venomous remarks kept pouring into my ears — but I didn't stir so much as a hair, and I didn't rise from my seat. There were simply far too many reasons I could name for why they might resent me.

Thud—

As I lay there in silence, a wad of paper came flying from somewhere, smacked into my head, and dropped to the floor. For a moment I simply sat there, dumbstruck — the method was so textbook-standard it nearly deserved applause.

Turning around, I caught sight of a cluster snickering among themselves — and from among them, I barely managed to dredge up the name of the blond, copper-skinned man who looked, for whatever reason, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exactly like the type to steal another man's girl.

Leon Venil. Eldest son of House Venil. Not a house of any great fame, but I did remember it was a Count's family, at the very least.

"Hhhehehehh.."

..Why does the bastard laugh in a way that makes my skin crawl?

I wanted to shatter the grinning fool's jaw then and there — but I had already left my family behind, and he was the eldest son of a Count's house. Which meant, in plain terms, that the very act of me striking him had become an utter absurdity.

They're bullying me more wholesomely than I expected, though. At this level, I can stomach it.

And so — through every hour of class, even as paper ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wads kept thudding against my skull; even as shoulders rammed into me in the corridors and feet hooked my ankles to nearly send me sprawling; even as my textbooks vanished from my seat while I was in the restroom and my desk bloomed with every species of slander and obscenity — I voiced not one word of complaint. And perhaps because the ones tormenting me were getting none of the reaction they'd hoped for, by the time every lecture had ended, only a pitiful handful remained to harass me.

Whew.. one day down, at least..

With the final lecture over, I came back from the restroom and moved to gather my things and leave — only to lock eyes with the bunch already squatting in my seat.

"Huh? Khek — aw, we're caught."

"See, that's why I said scribble a bit and bolt."

"Aw, just a little more and we'd have filled the whole thing.."

It was that crowd from before — Leon Venil and what looked to be his lackeys. Yet Leon Venil himself sat quietly in my seat; it was the others who were scrambling over one another to scrawl graffiti across my desk.

When exactly am I supposed to scrub all of that off..

With that thought, I heaved a deep sigh and headed for the back door, meaning to go fetch a towel once more — when —

"Hold it. You there."

At the voice calling out to me, I turned around on reflex — and in that very instant, a fist that had somehow already closed the distance smashed into my face.

Crack—

Crash-clatter-clatter—

It's a bit late in the day to mention this, but the class I belonged to was, in its own way, an amalgam of the Empire's comfortably-off houses — and it was commonplace for most of those families to back their children to the absolute hilt. No parent enjoys watching their child come home beaten black and blue, after all.

Hm? What do I mean by that?

I mean the reason my body is, at this very moment, airborne and rolling a good three revolutions across ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the floor — courtesy of that fist just now.

"A mere commoner, of all things.. got some kind of grievance, do you?"

I wanted to fire back at that instantly grating voice — You tell me, do I? — but before the words could leave my mouth, I had to remind myself of my station once more. He was a noble — the scion of a house ranking third in the peerage, no less — while I was now, quite literally, nothing but a commoner. The price a commoner paid for talking back to a noble was vicious beyond imagining, and knowing that full well, I choked my fury down and answered him with a pleasant little smile.

"Whatever do you mean? I harbor no complaints of any kind."

"..Then what, pray tell, was the meaning of that sigh just now?"

"A gasp of pure emotion, sir — I was simply so moved by the trouble you've all so graciously taken to adorn my desk with your artwork."

Leon's eyes went round for a beat — and then his face settled into the look of a man utterly at a loss for words, and he said,

"You. Are you truly that Jenison — the arrogant bastard from before?"

"...."

"Khh.. so you were just another fool who ran wild on his family's name after all."

"...."

"I hate bastards like you most of all. The thug types who can't do a single damned thing themselves but swagger around on their family's name."

"...."

"So where's that haughty attitude of yours gone, hmm?"

I wanted to ask whether he wasn't doing the exact same thing right now — tormenting me on the strength of his family name alone — but I knew better than anyone that such words would never reach him. So I clamped both hands around the boiling in my chest and summoned up another warm, harmless smile.

"My apologies. It seems I was passing through a rather graceless phase of my life.. and if I haven't offended you past bearing, then I would like to say I'm sorry."

To smooth the situation over, I bowed low yet again — and watching me do it, he began to curl his lips into a twisted grin.

"'Offended you past bearing,' was it.."

"...."

"Oh yes. You offended me plenty. A talentless fool like you, posturing harder than anyone."

"...."

"I've hated the very sight of you since long ago, you see."

..What, so in the end — despite never once suffering anything at my hands — he's going to torment me simply because he can't stand looking at me?

..The pot calling the kettle black, huh.

Judging him no longer worth my breath, I gave him a single parting bow and turned to go fetch my towel — when a sound reached my ears that I could not, under any circumstances, ignore.

"You think everything you've pulled until now can just be waved off because you were 'young and stupid'?"

"..Haha, whatever could I have—"

"I take it that's how your late mother raised you, then? Commoner-born after all — I suppose even her home-training came out cheap and lowborn?"

That was the moment, I believe.

The moment I lunged at him without a word and seized him by the collar.

"What was that, you son of a bitch?"

I spat out a double-barreled curse, holding nothing back.