The Mysterious "Helper"
It was Bayul's second day at the Academy, and the first class on the schedule was horseback riding — the subject he feared most. Frankly, he would have preferred to skip it entirely, but a student like Bayul hardly had the luxury of such choices.
One small mercy was that his roommates, Quinn and Aidan, were in the same class. Eli, on the other hand, had back-to-back lessons in the Magic Department, so there would be no chance to see him until lunchtime.
"Bayul!"
Bayul was standing alone, keeping an awkward distance from Quinn, when Aidan came running up waving. Among the students sneaking glances at him out of the corners of their eyes, a familiar face was a genuinely welcome sight.
"Aidan!"
"You got here before me? I figured you'd skip class today, what with the state you must be in. You doing okay?"
"Yeah, thanks to you."
Bayul flashed a bright, reassuring smile.
"You're really okay? I heard you drank an absolute ton last night."
"I'm so healthy it's almost a problem. I polished off every last drop of the soup Rai brought me, too."
"Really, now?"
Even with Bayul's assurances, Aidan couldn't quite shake his suspicion. His eyes narrowed to slits as he looked Bayul up and down, again and again.
"No way that's possible……"
And yet here stood Bayul, in perfect condition. Strange as it was, if the man himself insisted he was fine, what more could anyone say? All he could really conclude was that it was a blessing to be so hale and hearty after drinking that much.
"Quinn. Thanks."
Aidan blurted it out of nowhere, and the murmur rippling through the crowd of students swelled at once.
And no wonder — Bayul wasn't the only topic of the day. Bayul winning the drinking chess match was astonishing enough (the fact that he was perfectly fine the next morning only added to it), but the students were all aflutter about how Quinn had personally carried a drunken Bayul on his back and walked him to his dormitory room.
Since the new semester began, Quinn had always been alone. Part of it was because the students shunned and snubbed him for being merfolk — but part of it was Quinn himself, who held himself aloof and kept humans at arm's length. In truth, he'd barely exchanged a word even with the handful of friendly students (Eli among them), and that coldness of his had only ever drawn greater frost and contempt from the others.
Was a roommate different, then?
Quinn's new behavior was more than enough to stoke their curiosity — and the company he was keeping made it all the more tantalizing. The sole heir of the great House of Randert, Duke of the realm.
Anyone thinking of the future would agree that knowing Bayul could only be an advantage, and befriending him would be better still. Yet the students couldn't bring themselves to approach — his background was simply that formidable.
Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say they didn't dare. The rumors floating around certainly hadn't helped, either.
Quinn and Bayul.
The pairing seemed somehow lopsided, and yet it created a strange kind of allure. It was only because he wasn't human — in truth, Quinn had plenty of qualities the students would have adored.
His silver-tinged blue hair was a mysterious shade no human could ever possess.
And his skin — clear and translucent, like pristine water drawn from the depths of a remote mountain. His faintly blue lips looked pale yet dewy, and his blue eyes gleamed as if gems had been set into them.
As for his fin-shaped ears, after a couple of months they were hardly off-putting anymore — if anything, they only made Quinn seem all the more special. Many of the female students already secretly admired his beauty, even if none of them would admit it outright.
"……"
Even in response to Aidan's thanks, Quinn gave no reply, as always. He stood ramrod straight, not so much as blinking, as if the matter were no concern of his.
"Aidan!"
Just then, someone came walking toward them.
"Schubik."
Brown hair, brown eyes, and conspicuously long legs. The newcomer was Schubik — the Academy's information broker, whom Bayul had heard plenty about but never met. Having only ever seen him from behind, this was as good as their first meeting. Despite his towering height, the boy had a rather endearing face, probably thanks to the freckles across the bridge of his nose.
"This here's Bayul. You know who he is, right?"
As if there were any chance he didn't. Schubik greeted Bayul with a shy little bow.
"Hey, I'm Schubik. Sorry for running off on you yesterday."
He meant when they'd left Professor Rothius's office.
"Don't worry about it — you had your reasons. Good to meet you, Schubik."
When Bayul laughed it off without a trace of resentment, Schubik's whole demeanor brightened instantly. True to his title as the Academy's "information broker," his curiosity was boundless.
"So how on earth did you beat Jared? Were you always this good at chess? What about the alcohol? Do you usually hold your liquor like that?"
"…Huh?"
"Who was at the Crow's Nest last night? Were there seniors there too? If so, was it Pierre? You know, the one with eyes so narrow he looks exactly like a weasel? Ring a bell?"
Under the barrage of Schubik's machine-gun questions, Bayul's thoughts scattered in every direction. He couldn't begin to sort out which one to answer first. Then a nagging doubt crept in.
Wait — wasn't he supposed to already know all of this?
Schubik had been the clear origin point of the rumors about last night's events. So why was he acting like he knew nothing? Something didn't add up.
"Hey, Schubik."
"Yeah yeah, go ahead!"
The moment Bayul opened his mouth, Schubik pressed in close, all ears.
"I heard it was you who first spread the news last night. Didn't you see it yourself?"
"Me? No! What? Not at all!"
Not him?
"Then how did you……?"
"Ah — I got a note."
"A note?"
"Yeah, when I woke up there was one stuck in the gap of my door. Want to see it?"
Before Bayul could even nod, Schubik pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and smoothed it out.
Midnight, the Crow's Nest. Bayul and Jared, chess match.
Winner: Bayul. The drunken one was escorted out by Quinn.
The note contained nothing but the bare essentials.
"Who sent you something like this?"
"No idea. I just call them my 'Helper.'"
"Your Helper?"
"Yeah, every so often they feed me news I'd never hear otherwise. And they've never been wrong. Not once."
Judging by Schubik's expression, he trusted this Helper enormously.
Who could this Helper be? And how do they know about my business?
Granted, he'd been drunk last night, but the only people at the Crow's Nest had been Bayul, Jared's clique, and Quinn.
Was one of them secretly Schubik's Helper? Or was there yet another watcher, hiding in the shadows like Quinn had been?
On the evidence, Quinn was the most obvious suspect, but Bayul dismissed the thought almost as soon as it formed. It didn't suit his character at all — and besides, if it had been him, he'd never have written himself into the note like that.
But who on earth was it?
"Whoever it is, they clearly wanted me to spread the word. I was merely faithful to their request! Ha!"
Schubik looked immensely proud of himself, as if he were shouldering some sacred mission.
"So here's the thing — have you ever actually seen anyone who might be this Helper? I've been dying to know for a while now. They keep bringing me intel ordinary people couldn't possibly get their hands on. How would anyone even know to show up at the Crow's Nest in the middle of the night? Bayul, you didn't see anything?"
"Sorry — I was a little preoccupied playing chess."
Schubik stared at Bayul as he shook his head, disappointment written across his face, and muttered to himself.
"Definitely not the crow's doing…… Hmm. Who is it, really?"
"The crow?"
"Oh, just something I say. That place is called the Crow's Nest, after all. You didn't know?"
"…Huh?"
"Ah, right — you wouldn't have, it being nighttime and all. There's an actual crow living in there. That's why we call it the Crow's Nest. Aidan here even gave the thing a name. Isn't that right, Aidan?"
"Er, yeah. I guess I did."
"What was it again — Sebastiano? That's it, right?"
Caught off guard by this sudden new topic, Aidan looked a little flustered. Come to think of it, between Ingrid and now this, Aidan did seem unusually fond of birds.
I wonder how Ingrid's doing. The little owl came to mind unbidden — the way it had chirped so cutely from the palm of his hand.
"Here he comes."
Just then Schubik whispered low, staring across the training grounds. Who's coming? As Bayul followed Schubik's gaze with mild curiosity, it was only a matter of seconds before the color drained from his face.
At the far end of the riding grounds, Jared had appeared — his clique flanking him on both sides like a personal honor guard.
"Jared's in our class too. Yikes, look at the murder in his eyes."
Even from a distance, Jared's glare burned bright and vicious. The way he marched toward them, he might as well have been coming for revenge. No surprise there — his towering pride had just taken a deep gash. Bayul felt a flicker of tension, but he did his best to stay composed.
"How are you feeling? Still holding up?"
Mindful of all the watching eyes, Jared greeted him with a smile. The words were transparently insincere, but Bayul answered with a smile of his own.
"As you can see."
"I was worried about you. Glad you're fine. Good thing we stuck to beer."
Beer? Surely he wasn't about to admit, with his own mouth, that he'd been drinking beer?
But no — apparently he was.
"Wow, really?", "Good thing we went easy on him", "We could do it again sometime" — the answers from Jared's clique dripped with exaggeration, each one chiming in on cue.
It was the exact same script as yesterday in the dining hall. They were ostensibly addressing Bayul, but the words were really meant for the crowd. If everyone believed Bayul had merely drunk common beer rather than that vicious liquor, Jared could salvage a scrap of his dignity.
"I had a good time yesterday. I had no idea you were such a chess player. I suppose you must have played every day with that brother of yours — the one who drowned?"
At the mention of his brother, Bayul's expression froze for an instant. And as if he'd been waiting for exactly that, a sour smile bloomed at the corners of Jared's mouth.
"Jared, you only won because you let him. The guy kept begging you — saying he'd die if he drank any more — so what choice did you have!"
"No, a loss is still a loss."
"You just went soft because he blubbered like a little girl——"
"Enough! You're embarrassing Bayul, letting him hear all this."
I'm the one being embarrassed here?
Hah. All Bayul could manage was a hollow laugh. So this was how they manufactured a fool out of someone — lie with a straight face, smile, and repeat. Their shameless performance left him equal parts incredulous and, somehow, pitying.
"Honestly, I can't stand listening to this anymore. The one who drank beer was you, Jared. And then you handed Bayul that vicious Blood of Dragon. You really think that lie's going to fly now?"
It was Aidan who stepped forward in Bayul's stead, squaring up to Jared with his usual courage.
"Who told you that? It was the other way around!"
"Every time you rig a chess game, the loser drinks poison-strong liquor while you sip beer. Everyone who knows, already knows. It's a fact."
"Wh-what did you say?"
"You said it yourself, didn't you? You didn't lose — you let him win!"
"Fine! Let's grant every word — say I threw the match on purpose. But didn't you just say a loss is a loss? What, are you planning revenge now? Pathetic. Where do you get all these words?"
"…Did you just call me pathetic?"
"Wh-what! N-no I didn't!"
"You did! Right after your face went red as a beet! Everyone shut your mouths. Hey, all of you over there! Say something. Didn't he do exactly that?"