Denebergen's Seven Mysteries (2)
At first, I thought it was just Charlotte meeting some senior one-on-one. Maybe something had gone wrong, or perhaps she was getting bullied by some nasty upperclassman targeting the commoner freshman... That was my guess, but the truth was different.
Charlotte had indeed been singled out, but she wasn't the only one.
"This way."
I let the second-year senior who'd come to fetch Charlotte guide me straight to the spot in question. He had a face full of irritation, but as we descended underground to the problem area, I was surprised to see nothing but people who all looked pretty much the same—rough and intimidating. Was a scary mug a prerequisite for this club? If so, Charlotte and I would've been cut at the application stage.
Here and there, I spotted first-year students whose faces still held that youthful innocence, all tense and on edge. Fair enough—being dragged into a dim, dingy basement by these menacing seniors and surrounded in a circle would freak anyone out. From the motley crew they made, it didn't seem like they'd done this often either. They must've been thrilled at the news of fresh meat.
"Hey, you there—did you get an invite too?"
"Me? Yeah, someone invited me."
"Remember who?"
"Not really. Some guy who looked pretty manly."
"Plenty of those around here... Hard to say."
Meanwhile, I'd tricked the second-year who'd come for Charlotte and slipped into the secret meeting spot in the basement without a hitch. I'd figured they'd chew me out for showing up uninvited when only Charlotte was called, but surprisingly, they didn't pry too hard. Lucky me, drawing a dimwit—or maybe everyone here had faces and brains that blended together.
Thanks to some offhand slips of useful info while brushing off my excuses, I pieced together the whole story.
Hmm, your classic hazing, huh.
What could I say? It wasn't all that shocking. In any place with hierarchies—seniors and juniors, superiors and subordinates—it was inevitable. But this was a school, which changed things. Young students found it harder than imagined to stand up to upperclassmen, so the teachers and staff who failed to prevent it bore some blame too.
Can't exactly call a teacher down here now, though... How do I smash this?
I spent the pleasant puzzle time eyeing the ringleader type, who was trying hard to build an air of dominance. Name was Humpton or something? Third-year or not, a kid was a kid. To me, having seen far worse hazing in the resistance army, it just looked pathetic. Just older, that's all.
Compared to back then, this is child's play.
Even if the resistance was a ragtag bunch rebelling for a coup, the "army" in the name meant military discipline. It started with rah-rah camaraderie, but soon ranks formed, hierarchies hardened, and hazing ramped up. Some lunatics even used their subordinates as stress toys under the guise of enforcing discipline. As the abuse went public, cohesion crumbled, deserters popped up, and the whole foundation shook.
If I hadn't fixed it then, it would've been disaster.
But I'd solved every hazing issue in the resistance in just a month on Philbert's orders. The group wasn't huge, sure, but more importantly, I knew the cure-all: raw physical force. Overwhelming violence.
Ahh, I swore I'd live as a dignified noble this life...
Sorry, Philbert. Even with a fresh body and noble status, some things can't be helped. Looks like that rude assassin's blood you left me is still pumping.
"Alright, looks like everyone's here—let's get started!"
Right on cue, the third-year named Humpton bellowed. His arrogant voice boomed through the silent basement, grating enough to make you want to plug your ears. The other students winced too—until his cronies snapped them back to attention, and they slunk down.
"Why do you think I called you here?"
Someone raised a trembling hand at the question.
"M-money...?"
"Fuck! What money? If I needed cash, I'd grab those bourgeois noble shits by the collar—not call you losers!"
"Sorry!"
"As your senpai from commoner stock like you, I'm here to teach promising juniors how to survive this hellhole called Denebergen Academy. Got it? Yeah?"
The chubby bespectacled guy who'd answered got blasted instead. Turns out, aside from me, everyone here was a commoner. Charlotte included, they all shivered, nodding furiously at Humpton's every word. Kinda fascinating.
If he needed money, he'd blackmail nobles... Yeah, right. Just preying on easy commoner marks like himself. Small-time thug.
Learning Humpton was trying to form some commoner cartel made him even more pitiful. Without my assassin poise, my crappy acting might've let laughs slip.
"Anyway, ahem... You're that Martin Trading Company kid, right?"
"Y-yes! Yes, sir!"
"End with 'senpai.'"
"Yes, senpai."
"Hmph. Fine. I won't ask, but if you step up with a 'gift for senpai' first, I won't say no."
"Y-yes...? Oh, oh! Got it! Yes, senpai!"
The terrified kid bowed repeatedly, shaking. Humpton kept calling out students, grilling them rough. It started as sitcom-funny, but seeing Charlotte tremble and hearing his droning turned it to annoyance.
This many... Might be tough.
I remembered all my assassin skills, but this body was frail—chronic illnesses since childhood, poor stamina and durability. No way I could guarantee taking down a dozen burly giants bigger than me solo. Odds... fifty-fifty? And no killing, or it'd blow up. Had to pull punches. For an assassin like me, capturing alive without killing was a pain.
"So here's the deal: We'll guide you through this school. In return, bow and show respect in the halls. Win-win, right?"
"Respect?"
"Yeah—like buying senpai lunch when he's short, or gifting to show admiration. Need me to spell it out?"
As I mulled fighting, Humpton's speech hit its peak. I clenched my fist to step up—then he veered weird.
"By the way, you know Denebergen's Seven Mysteries?"
Seven Mysteries out of nowhere? I got the vibe. Not unique to Denebergen—old schools had creepy lore that snowballed into "seven wonders."
"This very spot's one of 'em. Didn't know?"
The freshmen shook their heads—no clue, faces said. Didn't seem eager to hear it from Humpton either.
"This door right here is the first."
Humpton stepped aside, pointing to the lone door behind him. No one had noticed it before. Dorm basement—probably utility access or lounge. Nothing screaming "mystery."
"Looks normal, yeah? Grab the handle, turn—should creak open."
He did, but only rusty clicks—no give, even shoving hard. I wondered if he was faking to scare them, but slamming his body proved it: solid.
"Huff, huff... As you saw, this door never opens."
A door that never opens? Doors are made to open—what's the point?
"Legend says some grad long ago tried smuggling banned goods through it and got caught. No key, won't budge—fits the Seven Mysteries perfect."
Fine, dragging freshmen was one thing, but this door story hooked me. Smashed? Magic? Mechanism? Nothing panned out.
"Unopened for over a century. Indestructible—even top archmages failed. Like it's been here since the world began."
Thief's instinct: pick a locked door. Assassins overlap with thieves. My fist unclenched from fight-mode; now gripped wire from my pocket.
How many locks have I picked with this?
Too many to count. Wonder what faces they'd make if my wire cracked Denebergen's big "mystery." "Never Opens" would fade to nothing.
"Heh, yeah. Anyone here opens it, I'll call 'em boss for life. Fail? Weekly respect to your beloved senpais."
"W-weekly...?"
"How about the Martin Trading kid first?"
Freshmen slumped, realizing their doom. High-level magic or trick—pure intimidation and extortion dressed as quiz. "Guidance" my ass—shady peddler ripping off the weak.
Screw bosses and respect. I just wanna pick that lock.
But my focus shifted from Humpton's gang to the door. Excited to see "never" drop—and what was inside. Guarded like that? Something huge.
With my trusty wire...!
As I burned with drive, calmer Charlotte shot up a hand, glaring at Humpton. He twitched a brow, nodding.
"Question?"
"Yes. What's with the drawings on the door?"
"Ah... drawings?"
"Just curious."
Humpton glanced, shrugged.
"Dunno. Graffiti from old grads? It's one of the original Seven Mysteries— we don't know much."
Some brag—profiting off something he didn't make or understand. But Charlotte's question made me notice what I'd glossed over.
Drawings on the door—really graffiti?
Too high-quality for student scribbles. Odd: she said drawings, but to me, more like letters. Reincarnated, modern script took time to learn—different from 500 years ago. This? Even more alien.
But... familiar.
Undeniable deja vu. Racking my brain: not 500-year-old script, not that shape...
Ancient script!
Lightning struck—shivers everywhere. How'd I miss it? The "Never Opens" door bore ancient script like on my old dagger. That magic let me find kingdom tunnels—key to assassinating the whole Drelin royal family overnight.
Which means...
I could read the ancient script on that door. Through thousands of students over centuries—only me. The puzzle clicked into place.