A Face From the Past
Jane straightened in her seat and laced her fingers together.
"And? What did you find?"
The Head Assistant set the documents down on the desk. "Zero percent."
Jane picked up the papers with an impassive expression, and the Head Assistant continued her report. "We could not find a single point of commonality with Magnus, Commander of the 5th Legion."
"...I see."
In truth, the vetting had gone beyond what any transfer student warranted — and the very reason for it had been nothing more than a face. Mishandled, it could have become a political liability, and it was hardly a kindness to the student himself.
More than anything, if Magnus truly intended to enter Kizen and work some scheme, there would be no sense in deliberately parading around a white-haired boy who so vividly reminded everyone of him — all it would do was sharpen Kizen's vigilance and fortify its defenses.
Jane closed her eyes, her expression a tangle of conflicting thoughts.
"White will begin attending classes starting tomorrow. However..."
"By all means, Professor."
Jane opened her eyes slowly. "We keep him under surveillance."
The next morning, the Mission Assessment was over, and a new routine began.
Students reunited in the lecture hall wasted no time spinning tales of their adventures.
"The ogre was practically the size of a castle, I swear!"
"And that baron bastard actually tried to bribe me. Me!"
Amid the lively chatter, Simon pulled out his textbook beside Toto.
I'm back.
He could leave the heavy mantle of Student Council President in the council room and return to being just another department student, free to focus on his classes alone. He stretched with a long yawn, savoring a brief moment of peace.
"Morning."
Lorraine, just arriving at school, came over with her calm, measured steps — tap, tap. Her restrained movements, her composed, graceful expression. Simon returned the greeting.
She's back to her usual self.
The Lorraine they'd seen in Tarados had been something else entirely. It may have been a small indulgence, a little escape, but there she'd been free — even, at times, almost cheerful. At school, that brightness had settled back into stillness.
Seeing her lock-neck clamped firmly shut again, Simon felt a quiet pang of sympathy.
"Good work leading the transfer students," Lorraine said, settling into the seat in front of him with a flick of her black hair. "Back-to-back school duties right after the Tarados mission must have worn you out."
"Nah, I'm fine. Professor Jane went easy on me, and Mayrin and Cami pitched in too."
"Ah! There's the Student Council President!"
A girl came rushing over to Simon. "The transfer students arrived, right? Did any come to the Summoning Department? Are they boys or girls?"
At that, the other students — who had been trading mission stories — turned their heads.
"Would the transfer students really pick Summoning? They probably all flooded into Curses or Dark Mechanics like always."
"Didn't they? The dorms were buzzing about it yesterday."
"Boy or girl? Start with the important stuff!"
Feeling the eyes converge on him, Simon smiled faintly. "Two boys."
"Kyaaaaa!"
The girls around him erupted into delighted cheers. The boys clicked their tongues or simply lost interest, drifting back to their mission stories.
"What are their specialties?"
"Why did one of them choose Summoning?"
"Are they handsome?"
Questions rained in from every side as the crowd closed around Simon. Toto was shoved clean out of his own seat in the span of a heartbeat, and Lorraine let out a small sigh.
"Everyone."
Just as she opened her mouth to speak—
"Get lost, all of you."
Serne was approaching from behind, platinum hair sweeping with every step. The girls crowding around Simon scattered at once, hurrying back to their seats.
She then claimed the seat behind his with the air of someone taking what was rightfully hers.
"Swarming all over him first thing in the morning. What a pain in the ass." Grumbling under her breath, she shot Simon a light wink.
Simon gave an awkward smile. "Serne."
"Mm?"
"I've been wondering for a while now. Why are you so set on sitting behind me?"
"Well, you see..."
The corners of her eyes relaxed into a lazy curve. "From here, the back of your neck is such a nice view."
—!
Simon felt a chill crawl up his nape. Savoring his stiffening reaction, Serne smiled like a devil.
"I imagine it every single class, you know. What would happen if I planted one of my feathers right there. Given everything you've shown us so far, I'm sure you'd resist — but then again, one little tap on the shoulder and your face goes bright red, so maybe it'd be easier than I think. And if I did take control... I wonder what I'd do with you?"
She propped her chin on her hand and smiled sweetly. "And just as I'm lost in that kind of daydream — oh my! The bell rings, and the school day's done!"
Simon exhaled a long, weary sigh. "Toto, want to trade seats with me?"
"Huh? Oh! Uh, sure, I don't min—"
"Why would someone be so careless with their own life, I wonder."
Toto froze like a statue, half-risen from his chair. He turned his head with a creak to look back at Serne — who only tilted her head, blinking at him with wide, guileless eyes.
"Did you hear something?"
"N-no, no, nothing at all!"
"...Serne."
Simon turned to say something to her — but at that moment, "Professor's here!" rang out, and the students scrambled back to their seats in a rush.
Clip. Clip. Clip.
The teaching assistants filed in and took their places in tidy formation.
Behind them, Aaron — the Summoning Department's head professor — strode in, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. Today, as ever, he climbed onto the podium in the world's most comfortable pair of shorts, slippers dragging along the floor.
"Summoning Department."
His bleary, sunken eyes swept across the students.
"Did you all do your missions properly?"
"Yessir!"
The students answered in a loud, unified voice. Aaron gave a nod and unfolded his papers in that languid drawl of his.
"The statistics say quite a few of you took D-rank and C-rank missions. I respect your choices, but don't forget — you're required to clear a black-grade request before the end of your second year."
He set down one stack of documents and picked up another. "Also — while you were all enjoying your leisurely assessment period, the Student Council President went and brought in the transfer students."
For a moment, every gaze in the room slid toward Simon.
"Two of them applied to the Summoning Department. I'll introduce them now. Come in."
As he finished, the lecture hall door swung open, and Benz walked in wearing the Kizen uniform.
He's nervous.
Simon snorted at the sight of Benz moving as stiffly as a machine. The other students' eyes lit up too. They'd seen plenty of people get expelled from Kizen — but a brand-new face transferring in, like something out of any ordinary school? That was a first.
"Introduce yourselves. Keep it short."
Aaron said. Benz creaked open his mouth.
"H-hi there! I'm Benz, from Aland. I was in the Summoning Department there too — my specialty's Taming. The art of commanding monsters through dark magic. Looking forward to working with you all!"
Clap clap clap!
The students applauded in welcome. Benz scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and followed an assistant's guidance toward an empty seat, passing Simon along the way and tossing him a quick nod of greeting. Simon smiled and returned it.
"I was told there were two transfer students for Summoning."
Aaron looked toward the hallway. "What's the other one doing?"
"S-sorry, Professor!"
An assistant's frantic voice floated in from the corridor. "The student got distracted watching a bird fly by and—! Come on, stop looking and get in here already! The professor's calling you!"
Scrape.
Hector, the department representative, rose from his seat with a look of barely contained murder on his face. Aaron checked him with a single glance and waited in silence for a moment.
Then, ushered in by the assistant, a white-haired boy stepped into the lecture hall.
"Wow!"
"He's gorgeous!"
Several girls let out hushed, fluttering cheers.
"White hair at that age?"
"Something about that kid feels off. I don't like it."
The boys' reactions were considerably colder.
It wasn't silver, and it wasn't platinum. That bleached, unnatural white — pale as a dead man's eyes — had long been an omen of ill fortune in the Dark Alliance.
And of course, the reason was obvious: it brought Priests to mind.
Judging people by their hair color was prejudice, plain and simple. But the terror of white-haired Priests crossing the border from the Holy Federation remained rooted deep in the Dark Alliance's collective memory.
"......"
White stepped up to the podium and stared blankly ahead.
He wasn't looking at his seated classmates. His gaze was, quite literally, unfocused — fixed on empty air.
A heavy silence settled over the lecture hall.
"Professor?"
The Head Assistant nudged Aaron gently. "Professor, the transfer student is up front, waiting to speak..."
But something was wrong with Aaron. His breathing was ragged, and his pupils kept trembling, darting about as if he were looking at something he shouldn't be able to see.
"P-Professor? Are you feeling unwell?"
"...No. It's nothing."
Aaron pressed a hand to his forehead, forcing the words out. "Introduce yourself. Keep it short."
"......"
White turned his head and looked at Aaron.
The instant their eyes met, Aaron's pupils began to shake violently once more.
Then White simply turned back to the students.
"White."
That was all.
Keep it short, indeed — he'd tossed out his name and shut his mouth.
When the Head Assistant gestured at him with a worried glance, another assistant quickly ushered White to an empty seat.
"Professor, if you need a moment—"
"No."
Aaron drew a rough breath and opened his textbook. "There's a long road between here and teaching you all Dullahans by midterms."
"...Professor."
He looked up at the students. "Everyone, open your textbooks to page twenty-five."
"Yes, sir!"
"Now that the transfer students are here, we're picking up the pace. Fall behind the curriculum even once, and assume you're weeded out for the rest of your second year. I'll be assigning a flood of graded assessments from today onward as well — and some exams will be sprung on you without notice, right there on the spot. Walk into every single class as if you're marching onto a battlefield."
He opened his textbook and raised his head. "We'll start by nailing down the theory of Ghouls."
Shhhhhhh—
"......"
After class, Aaron stood braced over a sink, gasping for air.
Water poured from the tap in a steady rush, but he made no move to shut it off.
When he lifted his head, his reflection stared back at him from the mirror. His hair dripped water in heavy drops, as though he'd washed his face a dozen times over.
— Professor.
In the mirror, a pale white-haired boy was speaking to him from behind.
— Professor Aaron.
CRACK!
Aaron drove his fist into the mirror. A fracture shot across the entire pane in an instant.
He lowered his bleeding fist and let out a long, shuddering breath.
Damn it.
He covered his face with his palm.
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
Then — the bathroom stall door banged open behind him.
"What an interesting situation."
White trousers and polished shoes kicked their way out of the stall.
Tap-tap. A man's footsteps rang out against the bathroom floor as he strode forth.
"I don't believe in fate. The notion that the ending of everything in this world is already written — that's nothing more than a comfort for the lazy and the weak. But if we allow ourselves a touch of literary license, I suppose one could say this..."
He pressed a sleek fedora down onto his head with one hand, the corner of his mouth curling upward.
"It's almost like fate playing a joke."
"......"
"That student — White, was it? He's the spitting image of the Magnus our senior taught all those years ago. The elders made such a fuss about it that I wondered how bad it could possibly be. My, my."
Aaron turned his bloodied face and glared with feral eyes. "What business does the Curse Department have in the Summoning building? Bahil."
Bahil leaned back lazily against the bathroom wall, tugging the brim of his hat down over his eyes with a smile.
"I came to see that child, and figured I'd have a look at the legendary white hair while I was at it. Anyway — lovely bathroom. Thanks for the use of it, senior."
Bahil waved slowly and sauntered out.
At last, Aaron shut off the overflowing tap and heaved a long sigh.
In the mirror his fist had shattered, his reflection stared back at him — split into a dozen fractured pieces of itself.