A Curse to Some (4)
The moment the desire to simply rest took over my entire body, every color in the world seemed to blur at the edges. I couldn't tell whether the leaves of the trees stretching toward that high sky were gray, green, or blue. Had the concept of color ever existed in the first place? I couldn't even tell whether I myself was a living person.
I had seen myself flailing in a sea of countless data when I first possessed this body — so could something like me really be called human? Whatever the case, anyone could see that my life had fallen apart.
Five NPCs out for my blood. And a ten-level reward waiting for whoever managed to murder me. It would have been wonderful if all of that worked in reverse, but nothing of the sort was ever going to happen.
"…Let's just stop thinking about it."
The thought crossed my mind to go back to the Academy. I hadn't been expelled or formally dismissed, after all. Maybe I could just live out a quiet school life there. They say if you want to hide a person, you hide them in a city, not a forest — so once I slipped inside, no one would ever think to look for me. People would be shocked to see my face strolling through the Academy gates as if nothing had happened, believing me dead, but I figured I could talk my way around it — say I'd been brought back by resurrection magic or something. And if that didn't work… well, I'd go find Eileen. Whether I got tortured there or had my limbs lopped off — living alongside a woman who would quietly tend to me didn't sound half bad.
The longer those thoughts carried on, the more the puzzles in my head crumpled in on themselves and burned each other away, and at some point my thinking simply cut out. I finally understood why the broken-hearted become the undead in a ruined world. The moment you give up on being alive, your movements grow this grotesque. I could barely remember how to walk properly, and sometimes the whole world seemed flipped a hundred and eighty degrees.
Saint Liberta Academy
"…Ah."
By the time I came to my senses, I had already arrived at the Academy. So the name isn't "Abandoned Academy" — it's actually Saint Liberta. Shaking my head at that useless piece of knowledge, I shuffled toward the main gate.
"Hmm…? Who on earth is coming during class hours— gah?! Aren't you Dean?!"
The guard posted at the main gate recognized my face and hurried over, visibly startled. "They definitely said you died at the Academy…"
"…As you can see, I'm very much alive, so would you let me through?"
"S-sorry about that."
The hulking guard grabbed my shoulders and shook them, and I answered with a furrowed brow — at which he immediately released my shoulders and cleared his throat awkwardly. Having a face that looked like an outright villain's seemed to come in handy at times like this.
"Hold on…! You've already been struck from the school registry. You can't enter!"
"Move."
Being struck from the registry due to death was simply a matter of getting it corrected. Surely a place as resplendent as this Academy had a system for that much. So I shoved the guard's shoulder aside and walked in. Watching someone that big get pushed back so effortlessly, I gathered he was probably a lower level than me — and I was only level ten.
I didn't know how much time had passed, but the Academy was so brimming with life that it was hard to believe anyone had ever been murdered here. Students chattering away in peals of laughter, couples walking shyly hand in hand. There were even idle-looking boys lounging on picnic mats spread across the park. But when someone distinctly un-peaceful passed through that peaceful space, every gaze naturally swung toward me. Heavy-lidded eyes, a sharp stare — an intimidating face that did not invite conversation. Dean, the Academy student who had no right to be alive. My mere appearance made the pleasant air of the campus plummet in an instant.
"What are you looking at, you punks."
As the students kept stealing glances at me, I felt panic creeping up, so I muttered a quiet curse — and they scrambled out of their seats or dropped their eyes and held their breath. Being treated no differently from a common thug, the corner of my mouth curled up into a wicked smirk I hadn't asked for. …Doesn't seem like this place is a home for me either.
I had anticipated this situation to some degree, so before leaving I decided to at least change my clothes, and without much thought approached a boy sleeping in the park. He was about my height and roughly my build — looked like a good match for swapping outfits. …Was I always this casual about stripping people of their clothes? No — there was no reason to show consideration to NPCs. They were things that dropped items when they died anyway. What did it matter?
"Get up."
"Gahkh…! Who the hell— heeek!!"
I seized the sleeping boy by the collar and hauled him upright. Forced awake against his will, he glared at me in fury — until his eyes met mine, and they dropped instantly to the ground.
"P-please spare me…"
"I'm not going to kill you, so hand over your clothes."
"Y-yes!! Of course!!"
The sheer pressure of my gaze alone was enough to make the boy surrender his uniform willingly. Leaving him standing there half-naked behind me, I changed into the new school uniform. "Heeek!!" I glanced over for a moment to check whether anything fit wrong, and in that instant the boy bolted, his face drained corpse-white with terror. I paid his flight no mind and went on blankly straightening my clothes — when a sound like a crowd surging up from behind reached my ears.
"Surrender quietly, Dean!!"
"You're under arrest for unauthorized entry into Liberta Academy!!"
Looking closer, they seemed to be guards. My vision had gone hazy for some inexplicable reason, so I couldn't make out details, but every one of them had their own weapon trained on me. …I'm envious. I don't even have a weapon.
"Khh… heh heh heh heh."
When I let out a shallow, madman's chuckle, the guards — overwhelmed by the momentary pressure — only gripped their weapons tighter. Who on earth surrenders to a threat that tame? If they really wanted to threaten me, one of them ought to jab that spear into my side at least once.
"S-stop that!"
"Go ahead. Stab me."
"I said stop…!"
"I said try stabbing me."
Idly, I reached out and caught the spearhead hovering within arm's reach, drawing it toward my throat. That didn't seem like quite enough, so I pressed my neck against the blade and offered up my own blood — and the guard flinched hard, yanking the spear back.
"…Tch."
Anyone who'd never lived through the Ruin was hopelessly soft. If the one holding that spear had been Eileen or Carmen instead of a guard, they'd have run me through without a second's hesitation.
"Move. I've got nothing left to see here."
"Halt…! If you don't stop— heek!"
I simply stared blankly into the eyes of the guard issuing his final warning, and when he came face to face with the darkness inside me, he stumbled backward and fell on his rear. Sparring with a guard who had lost all will to fight was more trouble than it was worth, so I slipped naturally between them and walked out of Saint Liberta Academy. Unless something truly extraordinary happened, I doubted I would ever set foot here again.
And so I passed through the Academy's main gate and began trudging down the paved road that stretched away from it. As I toddled along the forest path, the rustle of the undergrowth seemed to murmur softly at my ears. The sounds of wild animals passing, of insects chirping in the grass, of leaves trembling and whispering in the wind — all of it was beautiful. This peace, arrived at after so long, gently soothed a heart the world itself seemed to despise.
"…Hhk."
It was the first time in my life being comforted by nature, and the simple fact that nothing here was pushing me away felt like it was stitching up the wounds in my heart. Cradled in the embrace of Mother Nature herself, I walked on, weeping in spite of myself. Like a child lost on the road, hoping that someone — anyone — would come find the pure, unmasked self beneath it all.
But my peace did not last long.
Clack—
Because a black-haired woman had emerged abruptly from the brush, a gun leveled at me. A musket the size of a pistol, the kind you'd only have seen in Baroque-era Europe — its most distinctive feature being the immaculately maintained bayonet fixed to the muzzle. There was no movement suggesting she meant to extort money or valuables, so she had to be one of the ones I hadn't yet met: Maeve, Altair, or Sigrun.
Yet there was nothing of Eileen's or Carmen's vengefulness in her eyes — only a gaze so close to total indifference it barely registered as emotion at all.
"…Boring."
Even with the gun aimed precisely at my head, I'd shown no reaction whatsoever — and apparently that disappointed her, because she clicked her musket back onto her hip. Her outfit sat somewhere between soldier and poet, anachronistic in the extreme, yet too striking to dismiss as tacky. Above all, the black coat that swallowed her whole figure carried a fatal beauty, like a black rose blooming in a flower garden. I was still dazed by an image so vivid it made me wonder if an NPC like this had ever existed, when—
"Dean. That's right, isn't it?"
She had apparently sought me out already knowing my name, and she opened the conversation while staring straight through me with eyes brimming with nothing but abyss. I don't know why, but unlike Eileen or Carmen, I sensed no killing intent from her at all. Despite having been killed by me, she showed no sign whatsoever of wanting revenge — so I gave a small, quiet nod.
"Found the right one, then. I'm Maeve. Poet and hunter — Maeve."
Introducing herself as Maeve, she took the hem of her coat in one hand and bowed at the waist in the manner of a noble's courtesy. And the moment that greeting ended, Maeve drew the musket once more from her hip, leveled the muzzle at me, and—
"I have a favor to ask, Dean."
In a voice utterly devoid of feeling, she delivered a shocking request.
"Kill me."
In the split second her index finger steadily bore down on the trigger, the muzzle jerked sharply aside — swinging around to aim precisely at Maeve's own temple. Bang—!
The instant the hammer fell, the musket spat fire.