I Never Said It Was True
I never said it was true.
“I knew it. This building really does belong to you.”
Leticia Arden had wedged her foot in the door crack and was smiling. My gaze dropped from her face to her black shoes first. They were caught precisely between the door and the frame. If I closed it now, she’d get hurt. If I pushed her away, I’d be the villain. She was a clever woman. I doubted her sharp mind had been given to her for this kind of stunt.
“Please remove your foot first.”
“Answer me first.”
“If the question is whether your foot is stuck, then yes, it is.”
“I’m asking if this academy belongs to you. You clearly told me not to cause an explosion in your building.”
“When you care deeply about a building, other people’s buildings can start to feel like your own.”
“Who even does that?”
“You’re looking at him.”
Leticia’s expression twisted in disbelief. “Before coming here, I looked into your family.”
“You investigated someone else’s family history and then came straight to me?”
“It took a while. I’d never heard the name before.”
The Belcrown family had fallen into ruin long ago. The academy’s founding was recorded solely as an imperial achievement, and our name was buried in the corners of outdated blueprints and royal construction logs.
“Three hundred years ago, your house led the royal construction corps. You even participated in the initial construction of this academy.”
“You’ve done your research thoroughly.”
“There were strange records too. It said that people from the Belcrown family, even at banquets, would inspect the cracks in the walls before touching any food.”
“The person who wrote that must have exaggerated.”
“Looking at you, I’m not so sure.”
Unfortunately, it was a rather plausible record.
“So I can understand how you knew about the emergency passage. But the representative from the Trust Management Bureau was about to call you ‘young master.’ That part I don’t get.”
“It must have been a similar-sounding word.”
“What sounds similar to ‘young master’?”
“Sudden.”
“Sudden?”
“Perhaps she was trying to say a sudden accident had occurred?”
Leticia stared at me intently. My ancestors’ will had forbidden me from being suspected, not from being suspected in the first place. The real prohibitions were officially declaring myself the owner or presenting the original lease contract and trust seal as evidence. All Leticia had was a strong hunch. A very accurate one, admittedly.
“If I were the building owner, what would you do?”
“I’d ask you to open my laboratory.”
“You’re already doing that right now.”
“So does that mean yes?”
“I never said it was true.”
I pushed the door a little farther. Leticia finally withdrew her foot.
“Wait just a moment—”
“It’s late.”
I closed the door and turned around. Nicholas was sitting on the bed.
“You really are the building owner, aren’t you?”
“If I said no, would you believe me?”
“Nope.”
“Then there was no point in asking.”
Nicholas had already reached the answer. He had seen the call panel in the North Annex recognize my seal, and he had watched my orders being carried out to the letter. Continuing to play dumb in front of him wouldn’t be concealment—it would be an insult.
Nicholas Bern. In the original story I’d read in my previous life, he was the supporting character who could spot lies hidden among numbers. A practical man who would later prop up the imperial finances only for the nobles to steal all the credit. I had planned to recruit him even before enrolling.
“Nicholas.”
“Why so serious all of a sudden?”
“Do you need a job?”
He blinked. “Is this a bribe to keep me quiet?”
“Keeping quiet is part of the job description.”
“What would I be doing?”
“Record rumors among the students and any facility issues. Also review the student council ledgers and rental records.”
“Why me?”
“You have a good eye for people.”
“And the pay?”
“Double your current living allowance.”
“When do I start?”
His judgment was quick.
“There’s just one thing.” Nicholas raised a finger. “What if I tell people you’re really the building owner?”
“Breach of contract.”
“Me?”
“Me too.”
I pulled a blank sheet of paper from the drawer beside the bed and slid it toward him.
“So your first task is to manage both your mouth and mine.”
“My mouth comes with the salary too?”
“It’s the most expensive item on the list.”
Nicholas thought for a moment, then picked up a pen. “Double the allowance still feels a bit low.”
“Your mouth is cheaper than I expected.”
“It’s the friends-and-family discount.”
“I never said we were friends.”
“Most employers start that way.”
He smiled as he wrote down his name. Nicholas Bern. In the original story, this was a name that never received proper treatment under anyone. This time, it sat at the very top of my contract.
The next morning, a summons from the Accident Investigation Committee was stuck in our door.
Nicholas scanned the paper and pointed at one line.
“This is weird.”
The issuance time on the notice was 7:40 a.m. The committee formation time was eight o’clock. Yet the document read:
In accordance with the resolution of the Investigation Committee, the student responsible for facility damage, Ethan Belcrown, is hereby ordered to attend.
“They passed a resolution before the committee even existed.”
“And they already labeled you the responsible party before any investigation.”
“Log that as your first official task.”
“What about performance bonuses?”
“Write the contract first.”
The investigation committee was held in the main building’s eastern conference room. Professors from the Department of Magic, teaching assistant Ludovic, a dispatched official from the Magic Tower, and the student council’s safety officer filled the long table. At the far end sat Ines.
The committee chair, the head of the Magic Department, knew my identity. He was a senior professor who personally handled the Azure Hall usage contract. But in this room, I was merely a student.
“Belcrown. Have a seat.”
Leticia was already there. The department head opened his documents.
“Miss Arden deployed a fourth spell that exceeded the three attributes she was permitted to use.”
“I determined I could control it.”
“That determination caused the accident.”
The Magic Tower official immediately added, “The casting array was standard equipment. In the end, the user’s excessive output must have been the cause.”
Leticia’s expression wavered. “I decided the output level. I will take responsibility.”
The official’s face relaxed. I placed the summons on the table.
“Who issued a resolution before the committee was even formed?”
The conference room fell silent. The student council officer’s shoulders twitched.
“It appears to be an administrative error in the wording.”
“Was labeling me the responsible party also an error?”
“Based on the circumstances at the scene…”
“There was no need for an investigation, then. You already wrote down the conclusion.”
The Magic Tower official’s face hardened. “You’re clouding the main issue.”
“Then let me ask about the main issue. Was it also Miss Arden who removed the stabilization pattern?”
“The installation was done by Magic Tower technicians.”
“And the people who blocked the emergency passage and skipped the safety inspection?”
No answer came.
“Miss Arden ignored the warning signs. That was wrong. But one student did not rip up the floor, alter the mana conduits, and block the emergency passage all by herself.”
The department head glared at me. “I am aware you possess emergency access rights to the outdated safety equipment.”
He tapped his fingers on the table. “However, whether a student was in a position to exercise that authority is an entirely separate matter.”
Ines unfolded her documents.
“A simultaneous mana conduit overload and automatic shutdown failure occurred. This precisely matches the emergency conditions stipulated in the Azure Hall usage contract.”
The department head’s fingers stopped moving. Ines produced the materials one by one: no approval for the casting array installation, no application for altering the stabilization pattern, missing signatures on the regular safety inspection, and even photographic records of the Magic Tower equipment boxes that had blocked the emergency passage.
“The primary causes of the accident are unauthorized facility modifications and failure to maintain emergency equipment.”
The Magic Tower official shot to his feet. “Watch your phrasing.”
“You should have watched the contract more carefully.”
The conclusion was reached quickly. Leticia received a warning for excessive output. The professors and teaching assistant were held responsible for safety management. The Magic Tower was billed for facility restoration costs. My exercise of emergency access rights was recognized as a legitimate action under the contract.
As we left the conference room, Leticia followed me.
“Why did you reduce my share of the blame?”
“I simply divided the faults accurately.”
“I tried to have you thrown out of the classroom and ignored you in the practice room.”
“I remember.”
“Even so?”
“I didn’t want any lies left in the accident records.”
Leticia’s gaze fell to my bandaged hand. “It might leave a scar.”
“That much is worth accepting.”
“The royal records were right.”
“Which record are you referring to?”
“The one that said you look at walls before people.”
“Because if people get hurt, fixing the building alone doesn’t end the matter.”
“That’s even stranger.”
Leticia said so and smiled.
When I returned to the dormitory, an envelope from Ines had arrived. Inside were not the conclusions but the raw materials: blueprints of the student council building’s basement, the rental ledger, mana usage logs, repair cost invoices for the walls, and partial access records.
I handed the documents to Nicholas. He placed the rental ledger and mana usage log side by side.
“The basement rental records are blank, but the mana consumption is higher than the ground-floor banquet hall.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means there’s a facility operating that isn’t listed in the books.”
Next, he opened the repair cost invoice. Replacement of red carpets. Six round tables. Twenty bundles of ivory tiles engraved with numbers. Nicholas’s eyes narrowed.
“This isn’t a social club. It’s a gambling den.”
Last were the access records. Instead of names, only family crests and carriage seals remained. The imperial double-headed eagle. The Loengrin ducal house’s silver lion.
Nicholas set the documents down.
“Let’s settle the hazard pay first.”
Only two days since the semester began. The Magic Tower’s genius had already started digging into my identity, my newly hired secretary was demanding hazard pay on his first day, and members of the imperial family were running a gambling operation in my basement.