Welcome (Back) to Oxenbridge

They had let me out of the dungeon, but my steps back toward the dormitory could not have been heavier.

The Bailiff's voice, laying the whole affair out for me, kept circling in my ears.

"Traces showing she had been struck by black magic were found on Miss Claudel's body, along with residual mana."

"In the dormitory bedroom you shared with her, Anastacia, we also found signs that someone had broken in and torn the place apart, as if searching for something."

"The Faculty Guild believes this was the true owner of the black grimoire, come to take it back."

"Internally, we've decided the Headmaster will hold the grimoire in temporary custody until the inquisitor's visit. Even so, we cannot guarantee your safety as things stand. Return to the dormitory at once, keep your head down, and watch how this unfolds. I'll have guards posted quietly around the building."

It was still early morning. I passed student after student on the walk back, and yet I felt strangely blank, as if I were floating an inch off the ground.

It was that peculiar feeling you get on the way home after leaving ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠school early.

As if I belonged nowhere. As if I had lost the road.

My head was a wreck.

Even so, the students' muttering slid cleanly into my ears.

"Hey. Hey. Somebody died last night! They're saying it was murder."

"Holy shit."

"Is that why the first-years have today and tomorrow off?"

"I heard it too. A count's daughter, wasn't it? You don't think she's tangled up in some weird political scheme again?"

"No, from what I heard it was a black magician."

"When are those bastards ever going to quit their shit..."

The moment I got back to the dormitory, I went straight to the bath.

Not one thought surfaced about how strange a woman's body felt, or about any curiosity to explore it. I simply stood there in silence, mechanically rinsing off three days of grime, trying to make myself accept what was real.

My roommate was dead.

The very roommate who had sent me to prison.

And if the Bailiff was right, I might be standing in the same danger.

...None of it felt real.

Of course it didn't. What ordinary twenty-first-century Korean gamer was supposed to be on familiar terms with death?

I'd been to funerals, sure. My grandfather had passed when I was little, and in middle school a friend I'd once been close to—before we naturally drifted apart—died in an accident, and I'd gone to that funeral too.

But those were just ordinary things. Sad, yes, and unexpected, but still the sort of thing that could happen. The sort of thing that did.

Murder was different.

I realized I had come at this game completely wrong from the start.

A raising sim? Please. The hints had all been sitting right there. Tags like Psychological Horror and Mystery. I couldn't remember the exact wording—I'd only skimmed it—but the game description must have said something along those lines. Solve the case. Survive. Words to that effect.

Fine. I admit it.

This hadn't been some bullshit guess wrong and eat the penalty event. It was the opening of the actual story. I had buttoned the first button wrong, and not by a little. Thanks to that I'd missed events like the entrance ceremony, a party member (maybe) was dead, and by my own difficulty settings I had landed myself in hard mode.

Ha...

Once I admitted it outright, the knot in my chest seemed to loosen a little. All right, Olivia. That's how it went. Even so, the living have to live, don't they? I'll live hard enough for your share too. And if I can, I'll get revenge for you.

Whew... I loved you.

I scrubbed myself until my skin squeaked, then changed into fresh clothes. The clean, bright feeling that comes right after a shower wrapped my whole body.

Mm-hm. This steady comfort of underwear that clung just right and held everything in place! Surely there wasn't a single moron my age who still didn't know how to put on a bra?

I stepped out of the bath with grim resolve.

Someone had just died in our dormitory bath. That someone was the weak, flailing me of the past. The weak me was dead. From this moment on, I would be born again as a new Anastacia.

That was when it happened.

Huh?

??????

"No. No. Shit."

What was this? There'd been a time limit too?

??????

And my vision drowned in darkness.

In a pitch-black dark where not a single light existed, I saw a ✠ mark flickering in the lower left of my vision.

Then the dark closed in again.

Then a snare drum rolled out of nowhere.

Drrrrrrrr—boom! Crash!

With a bright little ta-da!, an enormous block of text popped into being and filled my vision.

I woke on a rattling covered wagon.

"Hey, you there, Sister. Finally awake. You said you were headed for the magic academy, didn't you? We're nearly there, so get ready to get off."

"Fuck."

"......"

So this was a regression where I didn't even have to pay for it?

No—I hadn't died and come back, so maybe I was supposed to call it a time leap. These things were usually an earring if you hung them on an ear and a nose ring if you hung them on a nose. Call it whatever.

Ah. This was not the time. Complicated thoughts could wait. Stats first.

Ignoring the middle-aged man in the seat ahead, who kept letting out incredulous little laughs, I hurriedly drew the Journal from inside my robes. Stats... character sheet... here!

A loop entry I hadn't seen before. Fine. Moving on.

Right. Here it was. I read down the page as fast as I could.

So that was why the experience had been doled out in such stingy little drips of one and two. This wasn't the sort of system where you hoarded a hundred points and leveled up. I got the feel of it. Raising an aptitude cost as much experience as its current value. My Faith was 3, so bringing it to 4 would take 3. If Faith were 5, I'd have to spend 5 to push it to 6. That kind of thing.

Hmm. But what was I supposed to raise?

Think. First of all, I was a mage. For real. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠And a former nun besides. Strength and Finesse could wait, couldn't they? If I ever ran out of things to raise and still had experience left over, I could dump it then. That left Will, Faith, Inspiration, and Knowledge.

Years of gaming were about to pay off.

Will was obviously just Willpower. Safe to treat it as the stat that governed resistances and how fast your resources came back. Faith was Faith. If I was going down the theurgy tree, that would be the main stat I had to raise. Inspiration... Inspiration? No idea. Judging by the bonus it got from the Ecclesial Scholarship Student path, maybe it was something like Wisdom in a normal RPG? And last, Knowledge. If you were a mage, pouring points into this was basically the law—the all-purpose stat that grew your mana pool, your spell slots, and your raw power. Though given the background, there was a chance Faith had taken Knowledge's place.

Hard. This is hard.

I was more stuck on it than I wanted to admit.

After worrying for a while, the pressure of the clock won, and I decided to raise Inspiration, Will, and Knowledge by one each.

That leftover point is going to bother me, but...

I wasn't about to waste precious experience on something useless just to make the numbers come out neat. How miserable would it be to come up one or two short at the moment that actually mattered?

While I was at it, I flicked the Journal back and checked the log as well.

Sure enough, the loop information has been added here too.

I'd checked what I needed to check. Now it was time to think about how to play this loop.

Two things mattered above all else. First, stay out of prison. Second, keep Olivia from dying.

Come to think of it...

I'd regressed.

Olivia was still alive, wasn't she?

Good.

For this loop, I decided, I was going to dig into her a little.

...And get a look at her chest while I was at it.

"You there, Sister! We're at the magic academy, so hurry up ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and get down!"

"Ah—yes!"