Lipsberg University of Technology
It took me a moment to pry Liesel E. Hayes off me.
The green-haired girl must have realized a little late that she’d overdone it herself, because she pulled back from me and let out an awkward laugh.
The pointed tip of her beastkin ear, half-hidden by her hair, was faintly pink with embarrassment.
Professor Linne’s smile deepened.
I had no idea why she found other people’s trouble so amusing.
“Tina, Tina.”
So that was my nickname.
One teasing line, and I was suddenly aware of just how embarrassing it was to be called by a nickname. To shake off that awkwardness, I slowly moved my head from side to side. Then, once again, I absentmindedly wound a strand of my side hair around my finger.
Besides, I hadn’t even been given a nickname in the first place. I turned to Liesel E. Hayes.
She seemed quick on the uptake, because the green-haired girl immediately clarified.
“Um, isn’t it cute?”
“Not at all.”
Really, it was less about whether it was cute and more about the fact that I was embarrassed.
▼
Professor Jernenfeld said she had someone else to meet and sent us off first.
Whether she truly had an appointment or was just planning to toy with us was hard to tell.
Probably half and half. That was about the best guess I could make. I’d only just thought that to myself and muttered it out loud, when—
“Hardly. Professor Jernenfeld may be eccentric, but she’s such a kind person.”
—I was immediately scolded for it.
If the professor heard that, wouldn’t she laugh until she cried?
Unlike me, who had only the scantiest scraps of memory to work with, Liesel E. Hayes seemed to know just about everything that happened at the university.
At least, that was the impression I got listening to her in the taxi.
She mixed together ridiculous rumors that had no basis in fact with stories that, even to me, sounded oddly plausible.
Like how somewhere in the university there was a passage leading to the old imperial capital.
Or how someone had asked the dorm supervisor why a roommate they’d lived with for a year never seemed to appear anywhere outside the dorms, only to find out they’d been using the room alone all along.
Or how, if you flunked an exam and then threw a broken piano off the roof, you could almost ace the next one.
Or how, if you sat blankly in a certain seat in the library, inspiration would come to you.
They were exactly the kind of stories that drift around any university, so I couldn’t help laughing. Especially the one about dropping the piano; that was practically a quarterly event, and I’d even seen it with my own eyes.
Not that I’d ever joined in the commotion.
While we were talking, the taxi stopped by the roadside. The green-haired girl opened the door first and got out.
Inside the taxi, the wrist she held out to me was slender, but looked surprisingly sturdy.
“We’re here.”
With some difficulty, I hauled my body back out of the taxi, where it had been wedged in with my luggage.
My right arm was still troublesome, so I needed Liesel E. Hayes’ help to get out.
The dormitory looked strangely old-fashioned for a university of technology. The building had its back to the river and swelled in wave-like curves.
From the concave sections, terrace-like projections jutted out, climbing the dormitory wall in a gradual stair-step pattern.
Dark red bricks covered the lower walls.
Windows were packed irregularly and densely along the terrace-like portions, while the plain wall below had them in a consistent, orderly pattern.
There was plenty to take in. I looked away for a moment and glanced around.
A road ran parallel to the river behind the building, stretching as far as I could see, and along it stood rows of dormitories in a variety of shapes.
Memories began to surface, little by little.
The dormitory from before had been a newer building, one constructed later than this.
Its location was probably opposite the current dormitory.
Back then, my roommate had been the sort of person who, like me, didn’t talk much.
I couldn’t tell whether that was because of shyness or simply their nature. My roommate never said much to me, and I never said much to them either.
Though now it seemed to be the complete opposite.
I looked at the girl leaning her upper body into the taxi doorway.
Her long green hair, the orange jacket half-hidden beneath it, and the beastkin tail swaying softly below.
White legs in short denim shorts that looked a little out of place in the chilly weather.
With a clatter, her body slipped free. She reached in and hauled out her suitcase with one hand.
That was some impressive strength.
I followed Liesel E. Hayes as she dragged the suitcase toward the dormitory.
The interior, despite its appearance, was fairly spacious and neat.
There were signs of remodeling here and there, but that was just the inevitable fate of an old building, so it wasn’t something worth fretting over.
The hallway curved along with the shape of the building. My room was at the very end.
“Sorry it’s a bit messy. I like cooking and things like that.”
For someone who said that, it was clean. I shrugged to show it wasn’t a big deal.
The room faced the river behind the dormitory.
Beyond the narrow corridor leading in from the door, a kitchen and living room opened up.
On either side of the living room, there was a door leading to a private room.
Past the floor-to-ceiling glass directly attached to the living room, a small terrace jutted out toward the outside.
The recliner on the terrace faced the river.
The place was well designed for letting the air flow through, and it looked like a good spot to step outside and lose yourself in thought.
“Tina, how should I help you organize your luggage?”
“Ah, well—”
In any case, there wasn’t much in it.
Compared to when I’d gone to Nordfjord, I’d brought far fewer clothes, and the spaces I’d filled were occupied only by things like photo albums, journals, and framed pictures.
And my room had an absurd amount of space for those things.
Enough to make me let out a dry laugh, honestly.
Had I really lived this carelessly? Watching Liesel E. Hayes brush dust from the empty spaces, I felt a little embarrassed.
▼
The wind on the day winter break was ending carried a faint chill.
Linne Jernenfeld stood on the observatory atop a hill overlooking Lipsberg, letting the wind wash over her.
When she took in the scenery around her, the sense of time became unmistakable.
The sunset, staggering wearily beyond the wall, seemed almost dreamlike.
Its light shattered against the dust of the wasteland drifting through the air, and those broken grains of radiance took on a violet hue as they seeped out in every direction.
The river accepted the purple glow without a word, slowly turning a heavy deep indigo. In Linne’s golden eyes, the border between day and night overlapped.
Without meaning to, she thought of the girl she had taken in as a student.
That girl’s eyes were always unsteady, yet stubborn in strange places, just like her parents.
Linne faced the wind calmly.
Here, it felt as though all the memories that had passed by were growing hazy. Or perhaps they were simply being swallowed by violet light and fading away.
Her golden hair scattered in the wind, throwing light in every direction.
“Head of Department.”
A presence approached. Linne turned on her heel.
“You’re late.”
“I apologize.”
A trace of guilt flashed across the girl’s impassive face.
The girl who addressed Linne Jernenfeld as Head of Department gave a slight bow.
As she did, dust-colored gray hair brushed forward. Cut short enough to barely cover the nape of her neck, it seemed designed for practicality rather than show.
When she lifted her head again, her eyes opened. They were somewhere in that uncertain range between sky blue and gray.
“Well, never mind. So, what’s the internal situation in the Golden Dawn Society?”
“After your vote was rejected, Head of Department, there have been no clearly visible movements concerning Yggdrasil. It seems the other department heads are keeping one another in check from below the surface.”
“So they’re finally moving.”
The ones who hadn’t so much as shown their faces in the meeting, and now they were going to act? Pathetic. Linne smiled and snorted softly.
Still, the direction was positive enough.
Since she, the Thirteenth Department Head, had stepped forward to stop it, the others had every reason to rise up.
In Linne Jernenfeld’s mind, the department heads who had skipped the meeting came to her. For the moment, they would use that as a pretext to keep the remaining department heads in check and restrain the faction in favor.
For the moment, at least.
“If only they’d stay nice and still.”
“...Yes.”
As the sunset nearly vanished, the hair that had been scattering brilliant gold began to settle softly.
Her lifeless eyes swept over the gray-haired girl. Rather than lingering anywhere, they gave the impression of being ready to drift off somewhere else entirely.
Her unfocused gaze and her clothes, which were entirely black, only deepened that impression.
“Wyn.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Have you been by the family estate?”
“...I’m sorry, but I haven’t. I’ve been too busy.”
Linne knew it was a lie.
She had even given the girl a long enough schedule to go to the estate once, and this was what she got?
Her eyes drifted to the girl called Wyn’s right side.
That submissive posture, while her gaze subtly avoided Linne’s.
She tried to hide the missing right arm, but the wind came at an unfortunate moment, sending the empty sleeve of her coat flapping through the air.
For a mage, losing a limb was a tremendous loss. It wasn’t just a matter of no longer being able to use one arm.
Especially if the mage was the type like Wyn L. Magnolia, it was all the more severe.
“You really don’t listen, do you.”
“I apologize.”
How had she ended up saddled with not one, but two stubborn fools?
If she was going to appoint a liaison, Ferdinand could at least have sent a child with a friendlier disposition.
Linne thought for a moment.
Her eyes narrowed, then opened again. Come to think of it, the student she’d just taken in wasn’t any less stubborn than this gray girl.
In that case, maybe things would improve if she put the two together.
The hesitation was brief.
“How would you feel about helping me teach someone?”
“Pardon?”
“I’ve taken in a student. But she’s been wandering around in a way that’s making me rather uneasy.”
She wanted to teach her more of something, anything. At Linne Jernenfeld’s words, the gray-haired girl tilted her head slightly, as if she found the idea strange.