Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: Otilie - (2)
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The next day, Otilie headed straight to the western garden, skipping her classes entirely.
-Crunch.
She dug into the soil with her bare hands where she had buried the doll's remains.
Unlike yesterday, the weather was clear and bright, so the ground was rock-hard. Her nails peeled back from the effort, stinging fiercely. Blood oozed from the raw wounds, staining her fingertips red like they'd been dyed with henna. But Otilie paid it no mind.
"Sorry, Edel."
She felt nothing but shame for having buried the doll in the ground, even if only briefly.
Otilie carefully extracted Edelweiss's remains and clutched them tightly to her chest. Then she quietly stood up.
'You made it so diligently because you loved dolls, didn't you? There's no way it could be wrong. Do what you want to do.'
The priest had been right.
For Otilie, dolls were too vital an element to abandon after just one failure.
She wasn't so overwhelmed that she wanted to give up on herself.
"Sorry for throwing you away. I was the fool. I won't do it again."
Otilie gently stroked Edelweiss's remains with her scraped fingers, murmuring softly.
The shattered remains weren't beyond repair. On the contrary, she felt a surge of confidence. Confidence that she could create something even better.
Hadn't that professor said it? The Ihen Dorp family had harbored the ambition to recreate flawless humans.
Otilie believed that dream wasn't unattainable.
"...Let's try again."
She had just resolved herself when...
Swoosh.
A shadow fell over Otilie from behind. She whipped her head around to see a woman in white clerical robes standing there.
"...You."
A silver-haired woman with golden eyes. Her beauty was so striking that Otilie had almost mistaken her for a doll.
Yet despite her gentle demeanor, her gaze was chillingly cold.
"What are you doing here?"
"Ah, no... Um, well..."
Otilie realized her mistake.
This woman clearly oversaw the western chapel. And right now, Otilie's appearance was utterly suspicious.
Showing up out of nowhere near the chapel during broad daylight when morning classes were in session, digging in the dirt—no wonder she'd arouse suspicion.
So Otilie flashed the most innocent smile she could muster and lifted the remains of Edelweiss from her bosom.
"I came to... find my friend. The one I buried here."
"..."
"...Yes."
She faltered even as she said it.
She'd buried her friend. And come back to dig her up.
Wasn't that practically confessing to a heinous crime? The woman's eyes narrowed as she watched Otilie fluster, but then she glanced at the doll remains in her hand and let out a small sigh.
"Well, at least it's better than that stray mutt."
"...Huh?"
The woman crouched down with a cryptic remark and took Otilie's hand—the one scraped raw from clawing at the hard soil moments ago.
Whoosh.
A golden glow gathered at her fingertips, and in an instant, the wounds healed. She was wearing clerical robes, so she must be a student from the Divine Faculty after all.
"Uh, th-thank you..."
"If you're grateful, then go back to class. Skipping lessons is a bad habit."
The woman pushed Otilie on the back.
Otilie relaxed a bit, relieved there'd be no formal report or anything...
'But isn't she a student too?'
Deep down, she wanted to point out that they were both playing hooky.
Even more oddly for a Divine Faculty student, the woman wore flashy earrings.
They were equally delinquent students.
Unlike the Knight or Divine Faculties, the Magic Faculty's academic building was divided into two structures.
To be precise, they were twin towers in a cruciform layout.
One was the Ivory Tower. The other, the Ashen Tower.
Barring special circumstances, each tower followed a different curriculum.
The dividing line was simple.
"Bloodline."
The professor on the podium raised his index finger.
This was a classroom in the Ivory Tower of the Magic Faculty. A haven for pureblood supremacists. And where Otilie belonged.
"For a mage, bloodline is more important than anything else. The reason you can receive advanced education here in the Ivory Tower is all thanks to the mana affinity—or compatibility—flowing through your veins."
Bloodline was of utmost importance to mages.
As if to prove it, every student in the Ivory Tower was a pureblood mage.
Meanwhile, those in the Ashen Tower were mongrels tainted by impure lineages—mixed-blood mages with non-mage family blood.
Though part of the same faculty, the two towers were bitter rivals, like oil and water that could never mix. This had been drilled into students since enrollment day by the faculty.
"Mana compatibility stems solely from the nobility of one's bloodline. Thus, you are sacred blood. You must never lose to the mongrels of the Ashen Tower. Though last year that witch from the Ashen Tower dared to threaten the Ivory Tower's position, her smug nose will be flattened soon enough. In that vein, this professor has high expectations for you first-years."
The lecturing professor showed no intention of properly educating the students.
He ranted on about how superior pureblood mages like those in the Ivory Tower were to the Ashen Tower rabble, and how tragic it was that last year's faculty top student had come from there.
Truth be told, Otilie couldn't care less. Pureblood or mixed-blood—it held no interest for her.
Her mind was already filled with thoughts of how to upgrade Edelweiss.
As class ended and Otilie moved to leave the classroom, someone called out to her.
"Hey, Ihen Dorp."
One peculiar custom of the Ivory Tower was its emphasis on lineage.
Addressing people by their family name was part of it.
Like the roll-bun-haired girl calling Otilie now.
"After getting thoroughly thrashed yesterday, you somehow managed to show up for class?"
"...Yeah."
Otilie racked her brain for the roll-bun girl's name.
But she had no talent for remembering names, so she just offered an awkward smile.
"If you have any sense left, drop that toy nonsense from yesterday and learn proper magic. Here— this is the basic magic textbook I used as a child. Study it, and you might at least take your first steps."
The roll-bun girl pulled a thick textbook from her bosom and handed it over.
From the emphasis on "I used as a child," it was clear she intended to help under the guise of charity while feeding her superiority complex.
"...Thanks."
Still, good intentions were good intentions.
As Otilie meekly accepted the textbook, the roll-bun girl flicked her hair and returned to her group.
"Lady Rosenkranz is so kind. Donating such an expensive book to that good-for-nothing."
"It's nothing. I just... felt bad for her, being such an outcast in class."
"Oh my."
Otilie overheard the snide remarks but didn't let it bother her much.
She examined the textbook she'd received.
Introduction to Magic Theory.
In truth, though classified as a pureblood mage and admitted to the Ivory Tower, Otilie had no memories of learning magic as a child.
She'd only ever learned the craft of handling the automatons filling her family's estate.
However...
'It's too early to give up. You can quit after giving it your all.'
"...Yeah."
A talent others couldn't understand was still a talent.
Making dolls.
At the very least, it was Otilie's strongest suit.
'Just create a masterpiece magnificent enough to flatten that esteemed professor's nose, and you're done.'
Otilie would create.
"This'll do nicely."
Otilie nodded slightly as she looked at the textbook.
It seemed like decent kindling for refining Edelweiss.
The following week, the Magic Faculty's second monthly evaluation began.
Gregor Luden Dorp, the guiding professor for the Ivory Tower first-years, scowled as he surveyed his students.
Rumble.
Rosenkranz's flame magic from moments ago had been quite impressive. A fine display worthy of her storied magical lineage.
The other students' spells weren't bad either. Remarkable achievements for their age.
But insufficient. Far too insufficient to claim the faculty top spot.
'That wench from the Ashen Tower.'
The current second-year top student, Isolde.
Isolde wasn't just any mongrel.
She was a commoner outright. A baseborn with not a drop of mage blood.
Since that filth claimed the faculty top spot, the Magic Faculty's prestige had been plummeting.
Just recently, the Ashen Tower's guiding professor had approached Gregor and said:
'The Ashen Tower has so many talents it's becoming a problem. It seems the notion of mage bloodlines fades with the times after all.'
"...Insolent bitch."
Gregor ground his teeth.
Since the founding of Erebos Royal Academy, the Ashen Tower had never produced a faculty top student.
Not once.
Until now, under Gregor's watch.
This couldn't stand.
This year's first-years had to produce the Ivory Tower's top student. He had to prove pureblood superiority, no matter what.
"Next."
Gregor called, and his eyes narrowed at the petite black-haired girl who stepped forward.
"Ihen Dorp."
Her full name on the roster: Otilie Kete von Ihen Dorp.
Gregor frowned.
'How did a lineage once called a magical powerhouse become so feeble?'
Just a few centuries ago, House Ihen Dorp had been the undisputed leader of the kingdom's magical world, their research hailed as touching the essence of magic.
Now, only the name remained.
Their sole legacy: a worthless girl who couldn't even handle basic spells.
For House Ihen Dorp at least, the Ashen Tower professor might be right, Gregor thought.
"Tch. Begin."
Gregor clapped to urge her on.
He held no expectations. He didn't think she'd master basics in a mere week. Avoiding a failing grade would be her limit.
But.
—Clank.
Gregor panicked at the object Otilie produced.
A meticulously human-like figure.
A doll.
The very one he'd smashed with his own hands last week.
"...Ihen Dorp."
He'd pulverized it completely—where had she gotten another?
At this point, pity gave way to anger.
"I gave you one last chance out of respect for your house, yet you smear mud on everyone's face."
Gregor drew his staff and cast gravity magic, crushing the doll from all sides.
This time, he'd compress it into oblivion, leaving no trace.
——Boom.
Dust billowed.
Gregor was certain the toy had been reduced to a pea-sized lump.
"...Hm?"
But contrary to expectation, the doll stood unscathed.
Not a dent anywhere. Its hollow eyes simply stared at Gregor.
The classroom fell silent in an instant.
"...What."
Even if it was beginner gravity magic, it was cast by a Magic Faculty professor. That toy should have shattered instantly...
"...That's."
The incantation etched into the doll's body.
A defensive magic circle.
A basic spell.
Did the doll cast magic? No—could an inanimate object even activate a defensive array? It required an independent mana circuit inside, which was impossible.
G doubts flickered in Gregor's mind, but Otilie's expression caught his eye first.
"...Heh."
Otilie wore a crooked smirk.
Unmistakable mockery.
As mentioned before, mages detested challenges to their authority.
"Y-You... you dare mock me?!"
In a rage, Gregor unleashed a grand spell he'd never shown students before, bearing down on the doll.
Rumble rumble.
"Did you hear, Priest Leo?"
"What now?"
"There's been a collapse at the magic tower. Fortunately, no casualties."
"..."
He sipped his drink silently.
"Priest Leo?"
"Don't talk to me. I'm troubled."
"...O-Okay."