Lessons and Encounters (9)
Celine nodded as if she had no choice. “Well… summoning is dangerous, so I can’t teach you that. But I can go over the theory and some applications. I still have the notes I took during my first year, so I’ll lend those too. Let’s both do our best, okay?”
She gave a small smile at the sight of the young boy brimming with enthusiasm so early in the semester, then stood up. “See you Friday,” she said, and left.
It felt like a fierce snowstorm.
Only after everyone had gone did Marei finally manage to breathe again. A colossal storm that had dragged an iceberg along with it. Though the moment itself had been brief enough to call fleeting, its aftershock lingered for what felt like an eternity.
Adapting to city life after coming from a tiny village where the word “noble” barely existed had been full of startling surprises. Still, he was gradually growing accustomed to the hectic days, and by most measures he was adjusting successfully. Yet surrounded by people who treated one another with such open hostility that it bordered on savage, Marei could only fidget in helpless anxiety.
Boys and girls his own age were already drawing clear lines around what belonged to them and charging forward to claim it. No—calling it a blind charge would mock their efforts, so forget that. They were sketching grand designs Marei couldn’t even imagine and steadily bringing them to completion.
They were all older than him, but unlike Labella or Idrien, these were students who truly seemed like peers. The brutal expressions they wore, the casual way they bared their fangs—Marei found it all shockingly, terrifyingly alien.
The way they tore into one another made them look less like people and more like savage beasts.
Even Philia, usually so logical and quietly articulate, had spat curses and mocked her opponent. And the shameless Jubelin, who had openly harassed his own fiancée in front of a complete stranger, had simply smiled as if nothing were out of the ordinary—though it would have been stranger if he hadn’t shouted.
Beasts wearing human skin. For one brief instant, that was exactly what they seemed.
Marei couldn’t stand the fear that he might one day become the same. He stared blankly at the sky for a long while until his own worries suddenly felt trivial, even ridiculous. Brushing himself off, he stood.
More precisely, he had caught sight of a familiar golden-haired girl walking past in the distance.
He followed her cautiously. She continued on her way as though unaware of anything, and even when she turned toward a secluded part of the grounds, he trailed after her without drawing suspicion.
“Who is it…?”
Muerangde asked without turning around, her voice low and growling like a young animal. Marei instinctively pressed his lips shut, then hurriedly collected himself.
“It’s me. Marei.”
The golden-haired girl slowly glanced back. Her eyes widened, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly—before she quickly pursed her lips and deliberately scrunched her entire face into a frown, as if to prove she felt nothing at all. It was simply adorable.
“…Hello.”
“Hello, Mellan.”
Muerangde’s greeting was so stiff it felt unnatural. She avoided his gaze entirely.
Seeing her pretend to be uninterested, he wondered whether he should play along. Under the weight of his steady stare, she kicked at the innocent ground with the toe of her shoe.
“Where are you headed?”
At the light question, Muerangde lifted her head a fraction. She subtly raised the basket she was clutching tightly with both hands.
Recalling the last time he had seen her sharing food with the animals, Marei roughly guessed her destination.
“Are you going to feed the animals again?”
“Want to come with… No. Yeah. Yes, I’m going to share some food.”
Her eyes had sparkled for a brief moment before she deliberately looked away, acting as though it meant nothing. She was so clumsy and cute that he felt an almost overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms and drag her along anyway. Was that strange?
“Shall we go together?”
“…There’s no need. I’m used to going alone… and I can handle it just fine.”
Muerangde kicked at the ground again, clearly dissatisfied. The way she kept stealing glances at the silent Marei made her seem restless.
“Can’t we go together?”
“…It doesn’t matter. If you really want to come, then fine.”
Her words were disjointed. Her tone awkward. Her body rigid. She was incredibly tense.
Whenever he looked at Muerangde, an oddly powerful sense of pity washed over him. This small, doll-like girl who seemed as though she should be loved by everyone behaved as if something inside her had been crushed. The sight made him want to reach out and hold her whether she asked for it or not.
“Then I’d like to go.”
Strength subtly returned to Muerangde’s drooping shoulders. She let out a tiny “Hmm~” through her nose, then sidled up beside him and stood shoulder to shoulder.
“Where are we going…? I still don’t know the school layout very well…”
“Ah, right. Follow me.”
Muerangde, who had been standing right beside him, gave him a quick glance before walking ahead. She moved at a pace that felt slightly too fast, yet she kept turning back—every few steps, really—checking to match his stride. Thanks to that, Marei was able to keep up.
Her golden hair sparkled within the shafts of light piercing the forest shadows, looking as though it might melt at any moment. He stared absently at the strands that seemed close enough to touch. Sometimes when his own steps slowed, Muerangde had no choice but to pause and wait.
Whenever they slipped deeper into the shade of the trees, her hair took on the faint glow of sunset, carrying with it the bitter scent of some nameless flower. He couldn’t understand why a girl nearly the same height as him looked so fragile. Just watching her walk ahead filled him with unease.
Even though Muerangde carried the basket that felt far too heavy for him with ease, for some reason he couldn’t explain, she still seemed on the verge of falling, of breaking, of collapsing entirely. Yet she simply walked on in silence.
As she had said, perhaps he was standing beside her with far too light a heart. The thought quickly spiraled into something melancholy.
Whether she knew his thoughts or not, Muerangde suddenly stopped and began to whistle—a long, high note that spread through the trees. Almost at once, small animals began to gather. It looked so perfectly timed that Marei couldn’t help letting out a soft gasp of wonder.
“Wow… that’s incredible.”
Rabbits and squirrels, small woodland creatures. Flying mountain birds. Even reindeer far smaller than the ones he had seen in the north. It seemed every herbivore in the forest had come. The sight of the golden-haired girl at the center of them all was like something out of a fairy tale.
“Ahem…!”
Muerangde cleared her throat in embarrassment and puffed out her chest. Unlike her usual self, she delayed giving them the food. The beasts, possessing no patience whatsoever, immediately shoved their faces into the large basket.
“Ah, no! W-wait! I said wait! Kyaa—kyaang!”
When a reindeer gave the back of her neck a huge lick, she let out a cute squeak. The momentary gap in her grip was all it took—the animals swarmed the basket at once.
“S-stop! I told you to stop!”
Herbivores clung to her, buried their faces in the basket, and charged from every direction like a pack of wolves. Worried the little ones might get hurt, Muerangde froze, unable to push them away or protect the food. In the end, the basket was taken from her.
“It’s always… always like this… such a mess…”
Muerangde clutched the now-torn, hole-riddled basket tightly and pressed her lips shut. If she opened her mouth, a sigh would surely slip out between them; they kept twitching with the effort of holding it back. To appear unbothered, she straightened her back even more and stared at the ground. She looked as if she might burst into tears at any second.
Muerangde still seemed precarious. Yet she looked more alive than when she walked the paths alone, or when she smiled without strength. She appeared fragile, but something told him she would not collapse or shatter. It was a strange certainty.
Marei stepped closer. Muerangde lowered her head further. Her eyes were red and bloodshot. She breathed very slowly, inhaling and exhaling in careful rhythm as she tried to calm herself.
“Mellan, are you all right…?”
“……Yeah. I’m fine. Just… just a moment… really, just a moment…”
Her cheeks twitched. She kept lifting her gaze to the sky only to drop it again. A single teardrop slid down, but Marei pretended not to notice. Muerangde rubbed at her eyes, then looked at him and smiled as though nothing had happened.
“See? It’s like this every day. Every single day I ruin everything and nothing goes right. It’s not just this—human relationships are the same. I ruin them, and ruin them again, and everyone gets angry, so…”
Muerangde sighed. She reached out to the small animals—rabbits and the like—that still lingered nearby. Full and satisfied, they readily accepted the vampire girl’s touch.
“It’s telling people not to come near me. Because I’m an idiot who can’t do anything properly. I don’t want to hurt anyone by trusting them for no reason, and I don’t want to be hurt either.”
That’s how I really feel.
Muerangde let out a low breath. When a small white rabbit approached, she crouched, gathered it into her arms, and sank to the ground as though she had collapsed. She looked ready to swell up and burst. Like a balloon. That was the thought that came to mind when he looked at her.
One moment she seemed fine, the next she changed completely. Like drifting duckweed, Muerangde could become enormously happy in an instant, and then even more enormously sad. It was almost like bipolar disorder. She looked as though she might pop with a loud bang and vanish without a trace.
The sight made him unable to look away; the anxiety was too great.
Is Lee Ha-eun the same way?
He sat beside the silent Muerangde, who was gently pressing the rabbit’s cheeks. She gave a tiny flinch, then twitched her lips once more before focusing on the rabbit again.
“The way you work so hard for the animals is cute. Truly.”
Muerangde lifted her head and looked at him. She gave a small snort, then hugged the rabbit tighter. On closer inspection, it was the same white rabbit he had seen before.
“How cheesy…”
He had only spoken to keep her from bolting, but it seemed to be enough. The faint smile at the corner of her mouth told him so. Strangely, she looked more relieved than he did.
After staying silent for a long while, Muerangde slowly began to speak.
“Talking about feelings is really hard. The words that leave my mouth end up expressing something completely different before I know it. So I have to choose the right ones, and I have to say them in a way the other person can understand. That’s why I’m scared every time I speak, but… still… I hope my words don’t sound strange. What I want to say is… I’m sorry. And thank you.”
They were ordinary words, yet it seemed terribly difficult for Muerangde to utter even those. She fumbled and squeezed them out one by one.
“Yes, I’m thankful too.”
“Why are you thankful…”
Muerangde puffed her cheeks in irritation, then let out a small laugh. As if deliberately changing the subject, she held the rabbit she had been playing with out to him.
“I was going to give this one a name now. Will you help?”
Held by its side, the drooping rabbit looked longer than usual, creating the illusion that it was quite large. Its red eyes, the same color as Muerangde’s, stared straight at Marei.
He took the rabbit. The small creature was surprisingly warm.
“Crybaby. Because its eyes are red like yours, Muerangde.”
“This child’s name is Galbi! Crybaby is not allowed!”
Muerangde frowned slightly, looking genuinely upset, and answered firmly. She seemed to have already chosen the name—why had she asked for his help?
“Right, Galbi?”
Snatching the rabbit from his hands as though stealing it, Muerangde whispered into its ear, loud enough to be heard yet soft enough to feel secret. The rabbit twisted and squirmed, urgently escaping her grasp before leaping away and vanishing into the forest.
“Ah……”
Muerangde stared blankly at the rabbit’s retreating form.
“The name Galbi must not have been very good either.”
“Seems that way…”
Her dazed reply drifted back.
That was the end of their conversation with Muerangde. She began quietly gathering her things; he helped her. They waved at the school gate and parted as naturally as if it had been inevitable.
Or perhaps it was because of the faint warmth still lingering on his lips—the warmth that had remained after she said “thank you” and pressed her mouth to his.
A subtle heat kept circling his lips. The clumsy French kiss had been so forceful it felt like a headbutt; the inside of his mouth was actually sore.
Marei touched his lips, where that strange mixture of sensation and pain still hovered, and let out a small sigh.
Just knowing that a cute girl like Muerangde had kissed him should have been enough to make him happy. Yet strangely, the aftertaste was bitterly sharp. Maybe it was because her French kiss had felt less like affection and more like a desperate struggle.
Recalling that today was the day he had promised to meet Gilia, Marei naturally made his way to the plaza near the school and sat down to wait. He remembered how enthusiastically she admired Labella and found himself wondering what expression Labella would make upon seeing her.
Since Gilia had no ties to any noble house, Marei had come to think of her—from the Marita family—as something like family. To Labella, however, she would simply be a stranger. The young boy who didn’t yet understand that distinction could only sit there, curious what kind of face Labella would show when she met a girl his own age.
He wanted to see her beautiful smile, yet his sticky possessiveness also hoped she would greet the girl with the same cold expression and toneless voice she used with everyone else.
With a mixture of anticipation and boredom, Marei spun a spoon inside his teacup, killing time. Mornings and evenings near the barrier came unusually early, so the city’s sense of time still sometimes felt foreign. Sunset would arrive in less than an hour, yet the night streets would continue to sparkle with bright lights—a perfect example of that disconnect.