Chapter 2: The First Letter (2)
Chapter 2: The First Letter (2)
That day was strange from the very start. To be precise, it felt off from the moment I finished preparing to head out.
As always, I washed my face and got dressed. But when I went to put on my belt, I found a weapon hanging there that I had never seen before in my life.
It was a small hand axe. Until now, the only weapon I had ever used was a single sword, yet suddenly, I had acquired a sidearm.
I felt a sense of bewilderment, but after a moment of confusion, I put the belt on anyway. I figured I must have received it from someone while I was drunk and decided I’d just return it later.
Donning the red cape that symbolized a third-year student of the Academy, I stepped outside to find the campus already teeming with people.
It was from this point on that I began to feel truly perplexed. Of course, it wasn't simply because there were a lot of people around.
Including students, faculty, and the resident staff who managed the school facilities, tens of thousands of people lived here. It wasn't unusual for the grounds to be crowded in the morning.
What unsettled me wasn't the size of the crowd, but the level of attention they were giving me.
The moment I started walking, countless eyes followed me. Soon, the sound of whispering began to tickle my ears.
"Is that him? The one?"
"I heard he beat that Yurdina brat half to death..."
At the sound of a rumor I’d never heard before, my gaze snapped toward the source of the whispering. But the moment I looked, they simply cleared their throats and hurried on their way.
Are they talking about me?
Puzzled, I tilted my head again. No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn't understand.
This was the 'Imperial Academy,' the undisputed premier educational institution on the continent.
It was a place where prestigious scholars and experts dispatched from various nations gathered to teach the continent's greatest talents. Its history and scale were of a completely different caliber compared to any other institution.
Since it took pride in being the best in the world, even getting into the Academy was no easy feat.
Only the most elite talents, handpicked from across the continent, could cross its threshold. The entrance exams, boasting competition ratios ranging from hundreds to thousands to one, were equal for everyone.
Whether they were royalty, nobility, or commoners, most people usually started with a curse word when reminiscing about their entrance exam.
It was a long-standing tradition of the Academy to make applicants sign a waiver stating they wouldn't hold the school responsible even if they lost their lives during the exam. While actual fatalities were rare, the mere fact that such a waiver was required proved just how perilous the entrance exam was.
Only after surpassing hundreds of other prodigies in such a grueling process could one finally become a freshman at the Academy.
Of course, getting in didn't mean the struggle was over. Over the four-year curriculum, roughly 10% of the students failed every year.
At the Academy, failing meant immediate expulsion. Naturally, students who had fought so hard to get in struggled desperately to avoid failing, making the competition even more intense.
It was a curriculum like a jungle. Only those who survived this four-year struggle for existence could finally be released into society with the tag of 'Academy Graduate.'
Still, it wasn't a bad investment, considering that graduation guaranteed a fast track to success.
In fact, there were countless parents who were desperate to get their children into the Academy just for the prestige of being a 'proven talent.'
My parents, for example, were exactly like that.
Since I was young, I had shown no interest in most things, let alone managing the estate, which soon became a source of worry for my parents.
The succession had long been settled with my eldest brother, and I wasn't particularly bright when it came to business like my younger sister. My parents couldn't help but worry about how I would make a living.
When I turned eight, they finally made a decision: if I didn't have a field I was interested in yet, they would at least secure a way for me to support myself.
And so, rigorous training began from a young age. Fortunately, my talent wasn't completely abysmal, so I was able to achieve some results through blood-soaked effort. With a bit of luck added to that, I managed to scrape my way into the Academy.
Of course, once I arrived, I realized my talent was nothing special.
This was a place that gathered all sorts of geniuses from across the continent. Naturally, there existed a gap that could not be bridged by half-hearted effort or mediocre talent.
If I had any talents worth boasting about, it was my footwork or horsemanship. Thanks to those, I belonged to the group that managed to avoid failing.
In other words, I was in the lower-mid rank. Still, if I kept going like this, I would be able to graduate without any issues. I was perfectly satisfied with that.
Knowing one's place was always important. I had long since abandoned the childish teenage delusion that I was the protagonist of the world.
So, until now, I had maintained a level of presence where people would react with, "Oh, that guy!" when they heard my name.
To put it negatively, I didn't stand out in any way; to put it positively, I had adapted smoothly to Academy life.
So, the reaction I was getting from those around me today was bound to feel a bit alien.
Whispers followed me with every step. At first, I thought I had dressed incorrectly, but that wasn't it.
I wanted to believe I was just imagining things, but the way people were stealing glances at me was the kind of look you couldn't possibly mistake. It was an awkward feeling.
Nothing was scarier than unprompted attention, especially when you couldn't tell if it was out of goodwill or malice.
The whispering that distressed me didn't subside even after a long while. I was on my way to a lecture, and at this rate, I’d have to listen to people whispering even during class.
It wasn't like I could just grab a passerby and ask why they were whispering about me, either.
As I was looking around with a troubled expression, a savior caught my eye.
It was a man with a familiar, trudging gait. His face, which still had a hint of youth, was deathly pale. He must have spent the previous night drinking himself into a stupor again.
With brown hair and green eyes that suited him well, he was my long-time friend. We had been close since childhood, and our bond was deepened by being in the same entering class at the Academy.
'Reto Einstein.' He was a celebrity in his own right—if you asked anyone to name the biggest slacker in the Academy, his name was bound to come up.
He let out a yawn, seemingly still suffering from last night's hangover, then suddenly stiffened when he saw me walking toward him. The emotion flitting through his eyes was unmistakable panic.
However, our relationship wasn't so awkward that I had to worry about every split-second reaction. Glad to see him, I immediately raised my hand and greeted him.
Yes, Reto would know the reason. He’d know why everyone around me was so desperate to whisper the moment they saw me.
"Hey, Reto!"
I walked straight toward him without hesitation. But for some reason, Reto seemed increasingly restless.
He hesitated, glancing at me warily, then his eyes widened as if he had realized something. I didn't know the cause, but he looked incredibly shocked.
His scrutiny continued for a long while. Only when I stood right in front of him did Reto suddenly burst into tears and pull me into a tight hug.
"Ian, you're back...!"
Wait, what kind of nonsense is this?
I wore a blank expression for a moment at the sudden hug before quickly snapping back to my senses. I immediately pushed him away.
I had no interest in sharing a passionate embrace with another man in broad daylight. And as far as I knew, Reto didn't either. He used to call himself a 'lonely wolf who prowls the taverns every night hunting for lonely women.'
For someone like him to suddenly hug me, I couldn't help but be bewildered. It felt like he was welcoming a friend back from a war zone.
I got goosebumps. Words of rebuke poured out of my mouth.
"Hey... are you crazy?! Why are you hugging me first thing in the morning? It's gross...!"
But despite my shivering shouts of protest, Reto just sobbed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He sniffled and spoke.
"Sniff... Yeah, this is the Ian I know. This is definitely Ian... Welcome back, you bastard!"
He patted my shoulder repeatedly as if to commend me. I gave him an incredulous look, but he was so caught up in his emotions that he didn't even care about my reaction.
The patting on my shoulder was starting to feel like a dull ache. My brow furrowed naturally, and a bewildered voice escaped my lips.
"...What are you doing?"
It was Reto who was surprised by my perfectly reasonable question. His eyes went wide, and he practically jumped as he asked me.
"Hey, don't you remember? Don't you remember the crazy things you've been doing for the past week?!"
"The past week?"
I looked even more confused at Reto's dramatic reaction and asked him back. Reto thumped his chest in frustration.
He was a mage with a weak constitution, yet he seemed that frustrated.
"You, you... you don't even remember that? You beat that Yurdina brat half to death during the last lecture!"
"...I did?"
I pointed my index finger at myself. At the question I blurted out in disbelief, Reto nodded vigorously, confirming his words.
"Yes, you lunatic! In the last class, the third-years and second-years were supposed to pair up for sparring, and you beat that Yurdina brat until she couldn't even stand! Do you know how shocked Celine and I were when we heard? Wow, I wondered if this guy had swallowed the wrong snack while drinking yesterday..."
Reto's excited voice continued, but I could only give him a blank stare.
Because I had absolutely no memory of it.
The past week? Does that mean I’ve been out of my mind for an entire week?
Furthermore, 'that Yurdina brat' was the nickname for that woman.
The illegitimate daughter of the Marquis of Yurdina, 'Seria Yurdina.'
Though she was lowborn, she carried the blood of the Yurdina family, the giants of the Empire's north. Even in the Academy, which gathered all sorts of talents, her swordsmanship was peerless.
Even before entering the Academy, she was already considered a strong candidate for the top of the Swordsmanship Department. Though she was only a second-year, most fourth-years were no match for her.
Many had approached her, drawn by her talent, background, and beauty, but she consistently ignored them all. That was how she earned the nickname 'the Yurdina brat.' By now, there was even a subtle atmosphere of people ostracizing her.
Even so, no one dared to openly bully her because her talent shone so brightly. At the Academy, skill was everything.
She was that much of a powerhouse. Though she might not reach the level of the Yurdina heir currently in the fourth year, she was a female swordsman with talent that rivaled the best among the second-years.
And I beat that Seria Yurdina half to death?
It was so absurd I couldn't even laugh. When I let out a hollow chuckle, Reto's expression turned serious.
"Hey, do you really not remember? Come to think of it, you were a bit strange. You had these incredibly tired eyes... Is it some kind of curse?"
Only then did I realize that Reto wasn't joking or lying; he was being serious. A faint trace of worry flickered in his eyes.
If someone as optimistic as him considered it this serious, it was better to assume most of what he said was true. I immediately felt a throbbing pain in my head.
I’d been doing things like that for a week? But why?
A dull ache resonated in my brain. It felt like I was on the verge of remembering something, but that frustrating feeling of it being just out of reach persisted.
Common sense dictated that this was a very serious matter, yet for some reason, a part of me felt like this was natural. That realization gave me an even stronger sense of dissonance.
As I groaned for a long while, the worry in Reto's eyes deepened. He began to mutter something.
"Let's see, what kind of curses cause memory loss or personality shifts? A Banshee's Wail, Pan's Lute, or maybe possession by a high-ranking ghost..."
I had a feeling I’d get caught up in something even more troublesome if this continued. What if I was dragged to some laboratory in the Magic Department and subjected to all sorts of experiments?
The mere thought was a nightmare. I raised my hand to cut Reto off.
"Forget it, don't worry about it. I mean... who would bother cursing the second son of a minor rural viscount like me?"
At my dismissal, Reto fell silent and stroked his chin. He still looked suspicious, but he seemed to think my point made sense.
It was true. Why would anyone cast a high-level curse capable of shifting someone's personality on the second son of an obscure noble family?
Still, when Reto's expression didn't soften, I let out a smirk and cracked a joke. It was my way of showing him I was fine.
"Who knows? Maybe some graduate student majoring in Curses went crazy after being stuck in a back room all day and fired off a curse at random."
"Well, that's true. If it's a graduate student, I can believe it..."
I’d meant it as a joke, but Reto seemed to be considering the possibility quite seriously.
Just what kind of place was the Magic Department's graduate school?
As I shook my head, Reto's hand suddenly landed on my right shoulder.
He was wearing a dashing smile, as if he was finally relieved.
"I'm glad you're okay, man. Honestly, I thought you might skip the next lecture."
The next lecture? The moment I heard those words, I remembered where I was currently heading.
Even though a week's worth of memories had been erased, all lectures were scheduled by the day of the week, so my destination hadn't changed.
And that place was the swordsmanship training ground.
A groan escaped my lips—a distorted sound filled with distress.
"I heard she was discharged from the infirmary yesterday. That Yurdina brat."
As he spoke, Reto patted my shoulder a few more times with a warm smile.
"I heard she's out for blood. But since you said there's no need to worry, I'm relieved."
Actually, I think I should be very worried.
I thought to myself, breaking into a cold sweat.
It was all too obvious how a predator whose pride had been wounded would react.
I felt like a pig being led to the slaughter.