Voluntary Withdrawal (2)
How long had it been since I last felt this? My steps felt light. A genuine walk after what seemed like an eternity. It wasn’t because I knew this would be my final time at the academy, nor was I trying to rebuild the social skills I had let rot away. I simply wanted to go out. In truth, there was no deeper reason. I was too exhausted to keep digging for one.
A year had passed, yet I still found myself drawn to a place that lingered faintly in my memory. It was quieter than I remembered. The most ‘useless’ space constructed during the academy’s founding—a garden built purely for the nobles’ aesthetic enjoyment. In the beginning, it had drawn young couples hoping to set a romantic mood and commoners who yearned for aristocratic life, but for some unknown reason it had been forgotten.
I heard the gardener was conducting strange experiments here… Well, it was nothing more than a faded ghost story now, one I could barely recall.
I stepped into the neglected grounds where weeds grew wild. It was hardly a beautiful sight. Insects swarmed everywhere, and wild animals roamed freely. Had it not been on the academy’s outer grounds, the place would have been torn down long ago.
I walked toward the weathered bench. With a heavy sigh, I crossed my legs and sat. Flies still circled lazily, and every so often a foul stench drifted past—most likely the rotting waste left by some beast. Yet I didn’t particularly hate this place.
“It’s quiet.”
Not as silent as my room, but pleasant enough. Unlike the academy corridors, the garden carried a strange, melancholic charm. Though the most important part was that there was no one here I needed to pay attention to.
I sat on the isolated bench for a long while, eyes closed, simply feeling the breeze. A rocking chair would have been perfect. It was a small regret.
“…This feels good.”
The tranquil silence and the soft wind tickled my skin. When it felt this nice, there was only one thing worth doing. I pulled the Magic Grass from my pocket, struck a light, and brought it to my lips.
Tchk. Tchk.
I drew in a deep breath of the herb I had grown all too familiar with. Sssip— Magic Grass was supposed to be bitterly poisonous by nature, yet right now it didn’t feel that way at all.
It’s sweet.
Huuu. I exhaled the smoke and stared at the academy’s main building. Despite the time that had passed since I submitted my withdrawal form, there was still no answer.
“…Why is it taking so long?”
A full day had gone by. I called it a full day, but to me it felt like an eternity. Honestly, I was sick of it all. I wanted to escape this damned academy as quickly as possible.
Fortunately, I had saved enough money. There were funds I had gathered before my reputation collapsed, and I had earned a bit of pocket money from the various incidents surrounding my enrollment. Even if a life of luxury was out of reach, I could at least spend the rest of my days smoking Magic Grass.
I took another drag and closed my eyes again. The familiar breeze, the peaceful quiet, and… the sweet scent of perfume.
“What are you doing here?”
A faintly sweet fragrance brushed the tip of my nose. When I opened my eyes, an unwelcome figure stood before me. Ilia Roenhart. My half-sister and the traitor who had driven a blade into my back during the hardest period of my life. Yet I felt no resentment toward her. In the end, my emotions toward Ilia were faint. The old scoundrel ‘Aren’ might have felt differently, but all I harbored was stale disgust. I simply wished she would disappear from my sight.
“…Why have you come here?”
Huuu. The once-sweet smoke now tasted bitter again. Feeling my throat grow slightly dry, I looked at her. She still appeared like a noble who had stepped out of a portrait—golden hair, blue eyes. The academy uniform she wore so neatly only heightened her solemn aura. But the fury etched across her face suggested this was not a pleasant visit.
“Are you joking right now…? Did I not warn you a year ago? If you tarnish the family’s honor any further, you will be excommunicated at once!”
I see. It seemed my withdrawal application had reached the family’s ears. It wasn’t difficult to understand. Most academy students were nobles; even for a scoundrel, careless administrative processing would be troublesome.
“If you have a working mouth, then speak…! Dropping out? Why must you cause problems every single day? Have you still not come to your senses? After everything that happened?”
Ilia raged at me exactly as she had a year ago. Only this time she seemed far more emotional.
I pulled the cigarette from my lips and spoke.
“Then excommunicate me.”
“…What?”
Ilia’s face twisted at once.
“Excommunicate me. I have no need for the family’s prestige. It would be better for you as well, wouldn’t it? Getting rid of one worthless scoundrel.”
If nothing else, the family elders would probably applaud with delight.
“Ah, and deliver a message to Mother.”
This body’s birth mother had died long ago after giving birth to Aren. Only Ilia’s mother remained.
“Tell her to stop sending her fucking poison. Does she really think I don’t know about those pathetic tricks?”
Indeed. Ilia’s mother—the Marchioness of Roenhart—was a ruthlessly cold woman. She was the kind of villainess who would sell out her own family if it served her pursuit of power.
She’s probably trying to poison me over the succession. If I died, Ilia would be the only heir left. I had thought my completely ruined reputation meant they no longer cared, yet she couldn’t resist sending poison multiple times. In my food, in my water, and on several occasions, outright assassination attempts. Fortunately, the assassins’ incompetence and the academy’s impenetrable defenses had kept me alive, but each incident had turned an already miserable academy life into pure hell.
The succession was already severed, yet she still pays attention to me… truly pathetic. Blinded by power, I suppose. Even though she had raised ‘Aren’ from childhood, it seemed there had never been any real affection.
My words caused Ilia’s expression to falter for the first time.
“What…? Poison? What are you saying…?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. I never thought you were ignorant of it.”
There was no way Ilia hadn’t heard about the attempts on my life. At the very least, while attending the academy she would have caught wind of it. Yet she stared at me with a brazen face, as if she truly had no idea.
“……Explain yourself properly. What do you mean? Poisoning? A-are you physically all right?”
With a panicked expression, Ilia grabbed my shoulder. I immediately knocked her hand away.
“Don’t touch me. It disgusts me.”
Even now she wore that false mask. What a splendid noble lady indeed.
Leaving Ilia’s shocked face behind, I placed the Magic Grass back between my lips and walked out of the garden.
Huu. The smoke no longer carried any sweetness. Only a bitter, choking dryness remained.
“Please wait…! B-Brother…!”
It sounded like Ilia was shouting something behind me, but I closed my ears and ignored her.
She’s probably only spewing curses anyway. Calling me a scoundrel. Condemning me as a useless burden who only causes trouble. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be pleasant to hear.
I won’t be able to visit the garden for a while.
It was time to return to my familiar routine. To a silent, quiet place where no one could disturb me.
I returned to my room.
Inside the Roenhart family’s private chambers.
Despite the servants and maids desperately trying to stop her, Ilia burst inside.
“Mother…!”
A voice heavy with rage rushed forward. The woman who had been calmly sipping tea slightly furrowed her brow. The Marchioness of Roenhart—Ilia’s mother. Merry Roenhart. She elegantly set her teacup down and fixed a cold stare on her daughter, who had come running in such an undignified manner.
“Ilia, what is this commotion?”
Ilia flinched. She had rushed here blindly in her anger, but having never once spoken harshly to her mother since childhood, her body began to tremble on its own. A learned helplessness, perhaps. Unconsciously, Ilia lowered her head and fidgeted with her fingers. There had always been someone to ‘protect’ her whenever problems arose, but that person had long since become a broken wreck and a scoundrel.
Though her expression remained full of discontent, Ilia’s posture was impeccably polite as she quickly began to question her mother.
“…Mother. Did you not promise you would not touch my brother?”
The fundamental reason she had ultimately betrayed Aren. It had all been to protect him. Yet now every effort she had made—turning him into a scoundrel, destroying his reputation, dragging him into the abyss—had become utterly meaningless in a single moment.
At her daughter’s bold question, Merry’s lips twitched. She remained silent for a moment before finally speaking.
Please, say it isn’t true. If she had done nothing at all, it would be one thing, but since she herself carried a heavy share of the blame for his ruin, Ilia desperately hoped her mother would deny it.
“…I didn’t kill him, did I?”
“Mother…!! What kind of absurd—”
Ilia knew. She knew how obsessively her mother clung to power. Even so, she had helped her. Because they were blood relatives. Because she was her parent. Because the final line had not been crossed. But… but…
Overwhelming guilt crashed over Ilia alongside the sense of betrayal. Then everything she had done until now—
She felt nauseous. The words tore from her throat.
“So it is true that you tried to have my brother assassinated…!”
“…Ilia. Are you raising your voice to your mother?”
Merry glared at her, but Ilia did not stop. For the first time in her life, she stood up to her mother directly. How much time passed after that, she couldn’t say. Only when the Marquis of Roenhart—having received the news late—came running did her voice finally fall silent.