A Promise Before the Poison
Simon walked over to Claudia, who had collapsed on the arena floor.
"You okay?"
"……"
She gave a small nod, nothing more. She tried to get up, but the paralysis hadn't fully worn off — the moment she lifted her hips, she crumpled back down in a graceless heap.
"I'll help you back to the waiting room."
She shook her head. "……Leave me be."
But Simon wasn't about to do that. He draped her arm over his shoulder and, careful not to startle her, slowly raised her to her feet. He was so strong that the moment he moved, her steps were carried along whether she liked it or not.
"……"
Claudia gazed sideways at him with a dazed look. The arena was in chaos, staff scrambling to vent the toxic vapor and scrub down the floor. The other henchmen were so busy they didn't even spare the two of them a glance.
They left the arena together and stepped into the corridor leading to the student waiting room. Claudia looked at Simon. She'd used one of her precious paralysis poisons on him, and yet there he was, striding along without a wobble in his step — somehow, it grated on her.
The reason Simon was this unaffected was probably.
"……Professor Byeolya's poison-tasting class."
Claudia said it out loud. "Even with your body paralyzed, you can still move like that because of that class, can't you?"
Simon hesitated a moment before slowly nodding. "I wouldn't say it's unrelated."
"……Ha."
A hollow laugh slipped from her lips. "Right. You're someone Nephthys brought in — of course there was a reason. No class she'd tolerate could possibly be useless."
Muttering to herself, Claudia let her head droop again. "Hey. It really got under my skin, you know."
"What did?"
"What you said two days ago. About how, honestly, if you could turn back time—"
A hoarse voice spilled from her mouth. "You asked if I really wanted to be doing this, didn't you?"
"Has your answer changed?"
"I can't answer that."
Claudia shook her head. "I'm not an individual anymore. I represent the many. I'm the one who led the boycott. If I give up now, I'd be betraying everyone who trusted me and followed me this far."
They reached the waiting room door. Simon opened it one-handed and eased her down onto the sofa.
"Get some rest."
"……"
He turned to leave—
"Simon."
Claudia stopped him. "Do you know the real reason I led the boycott?"
Simon turned back to face her squarely. Truthfully, it was something he'd been terribly curious about too.
"Which is?"
"Professor Byeolya……"
Her voice trembled. "She doesn't take care of us."
"Huh?"
"Doesn't she, though? Have you ever seen how the other professors dote on the students who choose their subject? They give special training, drop hints here and there. The professors don't want talented students — the ones tied to their own track records — washing out. Professor Bahil does it, Professor Walter does it, Professor Hong Peng does it, all of them do. So why……"
Her voice sank into sorrow. "Why won't Professor Byeolya look out for us?"
"……"
"She's equal to everyone. She makes everyone build up their antibodies the exact same way. But if antibodies build up in our competitors' bodies, that puts us Toxicology students at a disadvantage — our odds of surviving to second year drop even lower. Why? Why does she do nothing to look after us and instead make things harder for us?"
She pressed both hands to her forehead. "Yes, I know! I'm selfish and mean! But Kizen is an endless competition! Is hoping for a sliver of favoritism from my major's professor such a terrible, finger-pointing offense?"
Simon stayed silent. Her voice finally cracked.
"In this second BMAT, every single Toxicology student's rank plummeted! That brat Meilin threw a fit because she dropped from 9th to 220th, right? I fell from 35th to somewhere in the 700s! For the first time since coming to Kizen, I actually think I might get expelled! And then — and then, the very next day, Professor Byeolya……!"
Tears began to mix into her voice. "She just! Feeds us more poison!!"
"……"
"At this point, don't I have the right to feel hurt? I never even wanted to fight my own professor!"
At last she buried her face in her hands and sobbed out all her bitterness.
Simon had nothing to comfort her with — no way to scold or soothe her. Her emotions were far too raw for that.
"I hope you won't be too hard on yourself. Professor Byeolya……"
Simon rolled several different words around in his mouth before finally trailing off. "I'm sure she has her own reasons."
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, sniffling, but fresh tears spilled down where the old ones had been. "……I'm sorry. Dumping all this whining on you when it's none of your business."
"It's fine."
"I'm pathetic right now. I want to be alone."
"Okay. Rest up."
Click.
Simon slipped out of the waiting room and closed the door behind him. Then he tilted his head back toward the ceiling and sank quietly into thought.
That evening, Simon sought out Byeolya's research office.
"Professor, it's Simon."
"Ohh, come in."
When he opened the door, Simon was startled by the scene before him.
What — is this a person's office? Or a junkyard?
It was a sight that defied belief on multiple levels. All manner of trash and random clutter lay strewn about in chaos, and the walls and furniture were corroded with rust — eaten away by the poison that seeped from her own body.
Right in the middle of that disaster zone, a woman lay sprawled without a care in the world.
"You got here faster than I expected."
Byeolya waved her hand with a grin. Simon quickly bowed. "Ah — hello, Professor."
"Come sit."
"Thank y—— huh?"
His foot wouldn't come free. He looked down — he'd stepped in something sticky that had been smeared across the floor. No matter how he pulled, it wouldn't let go.
"PUHAHAHAHAHA!"
Watching Simon struggle, Byeolya doubled over clutching her belly and laughed herself sick. Simon's face burned with embarrassment.
"D-don't just laugh, help me out here, Professor!"
"Try this."
She dug into her ear with her pinky, then flicked him a mysterious blue square-shaped substance. Ugh. Using his other, un-stuck foot, Simon gingerly nudged the square over to the sticky patch. The moment the blue mass met the goo, it melted away as if it had never existed.
"……This really isn't my place to say, but couldn't you tidy up a bit before living here? I feel like Professor Hong Peng would have a stroke if she saw this."
"How I use my own room is my business!"
Soon the two were seated across from each other on the sofa. Byeolya rested her chin on her hand and smiled. "You've got a troubled look on your face. Something's got you stuck while preparing for the BMAT? Talk to me about anything — I'll help you at least once, guaranteed."
"Ah, actually…"
Simon shook his head. "For this third BMAT, I've more or less found my own solution."
"Oh, have you now? Congratulations. Then why'd you come looking for me?"
"There's something I'd like to ask you."
Simon continued with a serious expression. "Once the poison-tasting class is finished — what do you plan to teach next?"
Hearing that, she let out an incredulous laugh. "Why would that be on your mind?"
"I ran into Claudia at today's Duel Evaluation."
Simon explained what had happened with Claudia — leaving out her personal reasons for orchestrating the boycott and, as much as possible, speaking on her behalf. Byeolya listened with an indifferent face.
"Did those kids send you to ask?"
"No."
Simon smiled warmly. "This is entirely my own decision."
"……"
Byeolya closed her eyes without a word. A long silence stretched on. Simon waited patiently for her to speak.
"Fine. Alright."
At last her mouth opened. "I was planning to teach my original Toxicology technique. Adapting your bodies to poison is nothing but the preparation stage for it."
Simon's eyes widened. She really did have a plan all along.
"Wouldn't it have been better to tell the students that in advance?"
Her expression said she disagreed completely.
"There's an apple on an apple tree."
"Ah. Yes."
"Hungry animals are waiting for that apple to fall. So does the apple announce — 'Greetings, folks, I'll be dropping right off this tree at such-and-such hour, minute, and second, so be sure to lie in wait and catch it then' — before it falls? Hm?"
"N-no."
Byeolya irritably threw both legs up and slammed them onto the table. Bang! Bang!
"Exactly. It doesn't, damn it! These noble brats are so disgustingly full of themselves, they straight-up demand briefings from me? Am I, the teacher, supposed to bow and scrape and explain what I'm going to teach them? Should I be graded and evaluated by a student for it?"
Apparently, Byeolya had feelings piled up of her own.
"D-did something happen?"
Simon asked with a worried look. She kept her silence for a moment, then finally spoke.
"When I first joined Roc Island, the elders summoned me."
She ground her teeth. "Talking with those thick-headed bastards taught me one thing: no matter how long and hard you explain, they'll always find some quibble somewhere, and you'll just get hit with one endless objection after another. The elders, the brats boycotting my class — they didn't like me from the start, that's all there is to it!"
……Hmm. Thinking the wound ran deeper than he'd imagined, Simon opened his mouth. "I suppose people like that do exist. But Professor — like I said, there's Claudia's example. The students grew resentful because they simply didn't understand your thinking or your philosophy of teaching. I believe this part can be resolved with a conversation."
"Oh, drop it!"
She barked at him. "I chose my way, they chose theirs. And we each pay the price for our choices. Out in the steppe, nobody teaches you how to survive step by step!"
"Even so,"
Simon said earnestly, "this isn't the steppe."
Byeolya growled. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
"At Kizen, it's perfectly normal for professors to appeal to their students. The students are used to Kizen's culture, so they might misunderstand — wonder why every other professor does it and theirs alone doesn't. They're still kids, after all."
So said Simon, seventeen years old, matter-of-factly. "So couldn't you have just one conversation with the students, Professor?"
"So what you're saying is — I should bend my head and cave to that ridiculous class boycott?"
"No."
Simon smiled. "You'd be giving the students a chance."
After Simon left, Byeolya remained alone in her research office, quietly lost in thought.
"What both sides need right now is a conversation. Simply showing them what original technique you'll be teaching after the poison-tasting class — wouldn't that be enough?"
His voice still flickered in her ears.
"Good grief. I've gone and made a promise I shouldn't have. That's not like me."
Knock, knock, knock.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
"Professor. It's the Head TA."
"Ohh, come in."
The head TA of Toxicology, her face slack with dread, opened the door and entered, wound tight as a spring.
"Head TA."
"Yes, Professor!"
"Round up the assistants and gather every kid taking part in that boycott, right now. Any brat who doesn't show — feel free to dock them."
The head TA's face, which had been trembling at whatever bizarre scheme was coming, lit up like sunrise.
"P-Professor!!"
"Aish, what now? Shouting out of nowhere."
"Ah, my apologies! I'm just so happy…… But what should I say the business is about?"
Byeolya grinned like a villain plotting something delicious. "Just tell them I have something to say."