Professor Bahil's Cursed Laboratory
The truth was, it wasn't only the students pouring their hearts into this Dark Festival.
"A department championship is so self-evident that I see no need to discuss it further."
Bahil, a man dressed in a sleek white suit that looked born to flaunt the season's style, lifted his coffee cup as he spoke.
Before him stood the core figures of the Curse department, including the 3rd-year representative, all at rigid attention.
"What matters is something else entirely."
Click.
Bahil set his cup down on the desk.
"I don't care about the rest, but the Summoning department must be dragged down. By any means necessary."
One of the 3rd-year students rubbed his palms together.
"Understood, Professor! Honestly, those guys don't even need our help! Just look at their recent Dark Festival records—6th, 5th, 7th, 7th, 7th. Leave them alone and they'll dig their own—"
"I called you in precisely because I knew you'd spew that nonsense."
A vein bulged on Bahil's forehead.
"Why. Do. You. Think. I summoned you all here to talk right now?"
An overwhelming pressure froze the students' expressions solid. The air itself seemed to grow heavy, pressing down on their heads and shoulders.
"Oh dear, my apologies."
He withdrew the killing atmosphere and flashed a smile.
The gentle, refined Bahil returned—the one admired by so many students.
Click.
Bahil raised his cup again and closed his eyes.
...Phantassus Hugh Ikel. That boy made this department far too soft.
Back when he had taught the 3rd-years himself, the Curse department had been a pack of elite mad dogs pursuing nothing but victory and results.
But while he'd stepped away to teach the 1st-years for a stretch after his research leave, Phantassus had completely remade the department's culture.
Now he had to chase a championship with these 3rd-years slouching around with ambitionless, mushy grins plastered on their faces. It gave him a headache.
"The 2nd-years' role will be especially critical."
Snap!
The moment Bahil flicked his fingers, Merida Hugh Ikel—who had been dozing off with her head bobbing—snapped her head up. She'd been trying hard to pretend she wasn't asleep, but drool was already dribbling down from the corner of her mouth.
Glances shot at her from every direction—Is she insane in front of the Professor?!'—but Merida simply slurped the drool back in and stared blankly into the air through sleepy eyes.
"The 2nd-years' target is Simon Polentia. You must bring him down in the matches. No exceptions."
Something shifted faintly in Merida's gaze, which had been creeping open in a drowsy squint. Bahil caught it immediately.
"Ho? So you have some interest in him, do you?"
It was rare for Merida to react to anything, so the other students turned to her with a touch of surprise as well.
"Come to think of it, I heard Merida was dispatched to the Ivory Tower with my... rather, with Student Council President Simon."
She nodded.
That was her entire reply—a nod.
"Do you think you can beat him?"
"......"
Merida blinked her round eyes a few times before answering.
"No."
The students glared daggers at the back of her head.
You were supposed to say 'I'll win'!
All they wanted right now was to walk out of Bahil's laboratory alive.
Bahil pulled his knees up and sat with a strange expression.
"You're admitting Simon Polentia is a cut above you?"
"I would have won under normal circumstances,"
she said flatly.
"But Phantassus oppa taught Simon the same Sleep that I use. And during the Ivory Tower dispatch, I ended up showing him my Trance in person."
"Good of you to be honest."
Bahil flexed his fingers.
"It's true that he's strong. But he possesses no exceptional curse resistance or counter-curse arts, so there are plenty of openings to exploit. I shall grant you all the special new curses I have recently crafted."
A chance to learn Bahil's brand-new curses!
Merida's face barely changed, but the other 2nd-years clenched their fists with excitement.
"Thank you! Thank you! We'll do our absolute best, Professor Bahil!"
"I'll personally take responsibility for sending Simon Polentia back in a body bag—!"
BOOOOOM!
The student who'd made that last remark was blasted mid-sentence by a bolt of black lightning, sent flying into a bookshelf. Massive shelves groaned and collapsed in every direction, sending documents and scraps of paper whirling through the air.
"Poison only becomes medicine when administered in small doses."
Bahil lowered his raised index finger.
Amid the wreckage of the fallen shelves, a single rat squeaked, its whole body trembling as if convulsing.
"Mind your words in my presence."
The students' faces stiffened.
Then what are we supposed to say?!
He's the one who ordered us to beat Simon Polentia, but the moment someone mentions destroying him, he goes berserk. There was no keeping up with his tempo.
Knock, knock.
Just then, a knock sounded at the laboratory door. Bahil didn't even turn around.
"I was quite certain I ordered that no one be let in."
Ignoring him, the door slid open with a creak.
"Excuse me, Professor."
It was Chehekl, the chief teaching assistant of the Curse department.
It took her five seconds to assess the situation: collapsed bookshelves, a single rat, and students all wearing expressions that screamed please save us!
A thoroughly predictable scene.
"It's quite late. The dormitory matron will be looking for them, so I'll send the students back now."
She cast Cancellation magic, reverting the student-turned-rat to his original form. The student trembled violently, his face frozen in terror.
"Off you go, then. Take him with you."
"Y-yes, ma'am!"
"Pardon the intrusion!"
The students fled Bahil's laboratory like escaping prisoners.
And even amid all the chaos, one student still sat bobbing her head in slumber—until the horrified 3rd-year department representative dashed in, scooped Merida up, and carried her out.
Click.
Chehekl closed the door, and silence settled over the laboratory.
"Goodness."
Bahil smiled brightly and picked up his teacup once more.
"If you're too gentle with students, they develop bad habits, Chehekl."
"You went too far."
Chehekl's voice had an edge to it.
"What professor on this earth curses a student and turns them into a rat?"
"I do feel apologetic about that. He so thoroughly failed to read the room that I lost my composure."
Chehekl shook her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
He's just sour because he heard how Simon stole the show with his Dullahan.
"Time moves far too quickly. I blinked and the midterms were already behind us. At this rate, we'll miss our window."
Bahil tapped the armrest with his fingertips.
"This Dark Festival is our chance. I'm afraid I can't rule out more aggressive measures."
Flutter!
Today, as every day, Simon clocked in at the Student Council room.
After draping the President's coat over his shoulders with practiced flair from where it hung on the rack, he turned around.
"Alright, let's get star—"
"Simon?"
BANG!
Mayrin dropped a mountain of documents onto the desk and flashed a sweet smile.
"Late to work, and yet you're striking a pose? Forget the theatrics and review these. Now."
"S-sure."
Instantly deflated, Simon took his seat at the desk and bowed his head. Mayrin hurried off to find other materials, calling over her shoulder.
"Oh, look at the papers next to you first! It's a compilation of student complaints from the last Dark Festival. We're reviewing it in a meeting an hour from now!"
"O-okay."
Somehow, the work just kept piling on.
Simon had just picked up the adjacent stack and was racing his eyes across it when—
"Work~ oh work~"
THUD!
This time Dick dropped yet another bundle of documents. Simon stared at him with his mouth hanging open.
"...And what's this one?"
"Sponsor support list for this Dark Festival."
Dick grinned, flashing his teeth. Simon flipped through the pages.
"...Wait, hold on. Shouldn't something this important go through committee review?"
"Those are the official Dark Festival sponsors. What came in here, let's say, is sponsorship donated free of charge for the students."
"What's the difference, exactly?"
Feeling a headache coming on, Simon dove into the Dark Festival workload.
The routine student council duties he'd handled before and the Dark Festival work now before him were leagues apart—in sheer volume and in difficulty both.
Things he'd casually glossed over in the past turned out to have this many concrete, meticulous procedures tucked underneath them.
Was... was studying actually the easy part?
The Dark Festival workload was crushing enough to provoke such thoughts.
On top of that, the Student Council President's judgment mattered most of all.
Mayrin, Dick, and Camibarez did the legwork, weeding out the trivial and boiling each pile down to a handful of key items for Simon's review—and the judgment and selection fell to him alone.
Simon ruffled his hair as he pored over a map and survey materials.
They want to carve a road through the hillside? Isn't that just asking for a landslide on a rainy day? The event is less than a week away...
Of course, judging and bearing responsibility were his job too.
He felt the weight settle onto his shoulders.
Can't have the belly bigger than the ship.
Simon stamped his rejection seal and moved on to the next document.
And so the hours blurred past.
"Alright, meeting time!"
An hour vanished in a blink.
Work, meeting. Work, meeting. Even deep into the night, the tasks refused to end. Students were normally required to return to their dormitories before curfew, but Jane had pulled strings and secured them a special exemption.
Though at this point, he honestly wasn't sure it counted as a privilege.
"Wow, the campus is creepy at night."
Dick said, peering out the window.
"Every light's out. Feels like we're the only building still lit."
FWAP!
A crumpled paper ball smacked him in the face, and he staggered.
"How many times have I told you to stop goofing off!"
Mayrin shouted.
"Ugh, seriously. Let us breathe a little! What are you, a sweatshop boss? You're gonna work us to death!"
"And you've been sneaking off to slack every chance you got since an hour ago, and you're complaining?"
Just then, Mayrin pressed a hand to her forehead.
"Ah, I'm out of sugar. I need something sweet."
"Me too!"
Knock, knock, knock.
As if they'd been waiting for those exact words, Mojo—leader of the direct servitors—entered the Student Council room.
"Compliments of Professor Jane. You are to eat first, then resume work."
Four pairs of eyes went perfectly round.
Freshly baked pies, chicken dishes, and an array of other mouthwatering foods, all carried in by the servitors.
Mayrin swept the cluttered desk clear in a flash.
"Please have some too, Mr. Mojo!"
"Your words are appreciated, but we dine in the servitors' lounge. Well then, enjoy your meal."
The team paused their work and gathered around the table to enjoy a late-night feast.
"Mmmmmh—"
Mayrin bit into a pizza practically dripping with honey, her face melting into ecstasy.
"I feel like I could liiive."
"This is so good!"
Simon and Dick were attacking their food with combat efficiency, shoveling it down.
"Wow, and here I thought I ate a ton at dinner. Somehow this all fits too."
"Tell me about it."
The four of them enjoyed the meal in warm, convivial spirits. Dick gnawed on a drumstick as he leaned back against the sofa.
"Eating's great and all, but we have to pull all-nighters like this for almost three weeks? Just kill me now, honestly."
"I'm so happy right now!"
Camibarez declared, flapping her bat wings.
"All three of us in the same room, working late together, eating delicious food, chatting! When I look back on this someday, I just know it'll be a wonderful memory!"
Working as the Student Council was a part of school life too—that was her point.
Simon and Dick both chuckled and nodded. Camibarez clenched her small fists with determined eyes and shook them.
"I'm going to work even harder from now on!"
Mayrin finally couldn't hold back.
"Camiii! You're too cute, aaagh!"
She lunged across the table and buried her face with a fwump! right into Camibarez's chest.
Startled, Camibarez went wide-eyed for a moment—then gently lowered her eyelids and stroked Mayrin's head in slow, tender sweeps.
"Mayrin, why have you gotten so clingy lately?"
"Hehe, I've always been like thiiiis."
Simon smiled quietly to himself.
The recent events had shaken Mayrin emotionally more than once, but she seemed to have recovered and found her footing again.
"Ugh, baby talk. Absolutely can't stand it, for real."
Dick made a disgusted face while snickering—and took a kick to the backside from Mayrin. Simon and Camibarez's laughter rang out, filling the room with light.
Two days later.
Simon and the Student Council members climbed to the top of a hill.
"There it is!"
Roke Island, Kizen's home—battered by fierce currents and towering waves.
But unlike any other day, today's sea lay calm. And it would stay that way for the weeks to come.
"I can't wait! The Dark Festival!"
"Yeah. Now it truly begins."
And against that blue sea, thousands of ships were cutting across the waves, streaming toward Roke Island.