A Necktie and an Uninvited Guest
"Enough!"
The moment Professor Janet's shout echoed through the riding grounds, Schubik barely managed to grab Aidan, who had balled up his fists and lunged forward. Bayul hurried to help, though a beat too late.
"What did I say I hated most of all?"
At Professor Janet's question, Aidan hung his head low.
"Aidan?"
"...I'm sorry."
"That's not the answer I was looking for."
"You said you hated fighting between classmates most of all."
"That's right. I despise brawling more than anything else in this world, whatever the reason may be. Any complaints?"
Professor Janet looked back and forth between Aidan and Jared before speaking.
"Aidan, one demerit point. Jared, five."
"Professor! Aidan only gets one, and I get five? This is unfair!"
"Unfair?"
"Yes! He's the one who came at me! You saw it yourself, didn't you, Professor? I'm being wronged here!"
Accumulated demerits could mean being held back a year. Even the mighty Jared feared that much, and five points had his eyes spinning on the verge of losing it entirely.
"Jared, five more points."
At Professor Janet's quiet words, it wasn't only Jared who was stunned. Bayul, Aidan, and everyone present were shocked as well. Ten demerit points was on par with an unauthorized leave of absence — they could even file a formal protest through the student council over excessive punishment.
"Do you still feel wronged?"
Of course I do!
That was exactly what was written across Jared's face. And yet the boy said nothing. No — more accurately, he couldn't. If he opened his mouth again, more points would be added, plain as day.
His face said he knew perfectly well what he'd done. He could protest if he wanted to, right then and there — but his opponent was Professor Marsa Janet. Jared knew from long experience that it was better not to.
"If you want to avoid my demerits in the future, fix that insolent attitude first. If you act disrespectful in front of me one more time, I may bar you from my classes entirely. You wouldn't want to be held back, would you?"
"...No, Professor."
Jared forced the words out through clenched teeth, barely suppressing the urge to scream who do you think you are, you hag? As much as he hated to admit it, Professor Janet was a profoundly irritating presence that even his father's power couldn't touch.
"Class is over for today. I'll announce the makeup lesson date later."
With the horse incident, riding class was obviously impossible. It was the class he'd dreaded above all others, so it was good news for Bayul — and yet, looking at the fallen horses, he couldn't bring himself to feel glad.
He'd heard that the small animals grazing on that plant could die from it. Bayul was appalled all over again that Jared had fed such a dangerous weed to horses over nothing more than wounded pride.
In the distance, Lanasa could be seen hurrying over with the grounds staff. Professor Janet waved them toward the horse that looked worst off and strode quickly ahead.
"Jared, you okay?"
As soon as the professor was gone, Jared's lackeys came rushing up.
"Ten demerit points? Isn't that way too harsh?"
"He gets one and you get ten — how does that make sense? Should I report this to the student council? That'd give that woman a real headache!"
"I just... messed with the horses a little..."
"Quiet down already!"
His light-fingered mouth hadn't been able to hold itself in, and now it was running wild. Who knew what else might slip out of that hole in his face if he lingered. It galled him, but retreating was the only answer for now.
Damn it all!
Shuddering with fury, Jared stormed straight out of the riding grounds.
"So that's it, huh? The pathetic little revenge scheme just fell flat on its face?"
The moment Jared was gone, Schubik opened fire without missing a beat.
"Hey, Aidan — how'd you know? Did you see it?"
"Why would I need to see it?"
"So you just guessed and ratted him out?"
"Ratted him out my foot. Be glad nobody got hurt. Other than Jared, who else around here would pull a stunt like that?"
"Fair enough. Still, something's weird."
"What's weird?"
Schubik frowned, glancing over at Professor Janet.
"Professor Janet, I mean. Why would she hand Jared ten whole demerit points just on your word? She never even checked, just took you at face value."
"You saying he's not the culprit?"
"No, he definitely is. You heard his lackeys let it slip earlier too. We had a hunch before — now we've got hard evidence."
"And?"
"It's just — normally when one side says it wasn't them, you'd ask a third party or run an investigation to sort out who's telling the truth. But Professor Janet just took your word for it, no questions asked. Right, Bayul?"
"Huh? Oh... I guess so."
Now that he thought about it, it was strange. Professor Janet had singled out Aidan from the very start, then declared Jared the culprit purely on his word. Could she really trust Aidan that much?
"Come on, Schubik. Jared — it's Jared. You think he's the only one who knows what a lunatic stunt he pulled? Professors have ears too, you know!"
"Gah! So word of last night reached her already?"
"Wouldn't that be it?"
"So she anticipated his revenge? Ohhh, that tracks. That actually tracks."
Perhaps feeling proud as the origin of the rumor, Schubik even clapped his hands in delight. Was that really such a thrilling thing? The more Bayul got to know him, the more curious corners this guy had.
"But really, who takes revenge like this? How was he supposed to know where the horses would bolt? Redmain charged at Bayul, sure, but he could've gone anywhere."
"Which is exactly why he's an idiot."
"What?"
"Forget it — you're loud, so go on home. Class is cancelled, right? Bayul, you're probably worn out from the drinking last night too. Go back to your dorm and rest."
"You're not going?"
"I should help the professor out. Looks like I've got more of this guy's tantrums to babysit, too."
When Aidan stroked him, Redmain let out a contented nicker. The horse's enormous eyes, fixed on Aidan, were brimming with trust.
Will anyone ever look at me like that someday?
The envy struck him out of nowhere. Aidan's back as he dashed off toward the fallen horses, reins in one hand, looked more magnificent than ever today.
Second period was Political Economy, a required course for any Administration Department student. While everyone else leisurely prepared for the next class with riding cancelled, Bayul, back in his dormitory, was sweating through an unexpected ordeal of his own.
"No, that's not it."
He'd lost count of how many attempts this was. Mirror propped up, digging through his memory, looping and re-looping the thing — but the shape he knew so well just wouldn't come out.
"I'm pretty sure this is how Rita did it..."
Someone had always tied it for him; he'd never once done it himself, and now he couldn't even manage a single necktie. If he'd known this would happen, he would've learned beforehand. Too late for regret. Of all days for the tie to act up — the very first day he wore his uniform. Bayul honestly wanted to cry.
"Eli, where are you..."
Eli would be in the middle of his Magic Department class by now. It didn't have to be him — he needed anyone's help, desperately. If he walked out looking like this, he'd be laughed at for sure: can't even tie a necktie. That much, at least, he wanted to avoid.
"Okay, one more time. Slowly."
Bayul took a deep breath. Getting this worked up over a tie — even he found himself pathetic.
"What are you doing?"
"Yah!"
Too absorbed in concentration, apparently — he hadn't heard so much as the door open, let alone anyone entering. At the voice that suddenly came from beside him, Bayul shrieked.
"Why are you so jumpy?"
Quinn's expression twisted with displeasure.
"K-knock before you come in! You scared me half to death."
"Do I need to knock to enter my own room?"
"Well, technically no, but we share it, so..."
"...Fine. I'll do that from now on."
Quinn seemed to ponder it for a moment, then surprisingly gave in without a fight.
"Is your body feeling better now?"
"My body?"
"You looked a little pale earlier, that's all."
He'd been unusually listless back at the riding grounds as well.
"You've got to be kidding. You're in any position to worry about me? The one who nearly died of a hangover was you, not me. You barely survived, and now you're worried about someone else? Do I look like a weakling to you?"
"No, that's not what I meant..."
"And you can't even tie a necktie? What have you been doing all your life that you never learned that? Tch. Can you actually do anything?"
Young Master Bayul can't do anything at all. Young Master Bail was good at everything. That's why the lord grieves the more.
That was what the servants always whispered at the family estate. To hear the same words here, of all places — was he truly a worthless human being, then? Should it really have been him, and not Bail, who died?
The blow landed defenseless, and Bayul's mind went blank for an instant. That thing he'd imagined hundreds, thousands of times a day rose up to torment him.
It should have been me who died, not Bail.
Then Father wouldn't have had to grieve so much.
My brother would have grown into a proper heir and carried on the family name.
I'm the one at fault for surviving.
"What? What's wrong?"
Bayul's face had gone dead white when it had been perfectly fine a moment ago, and Quinn panicked. The boy's pupils were shaking wildly, as if an earthquake had struck behind them.
"Hey!"
Worried he might collapse again, Quinn rushed to grab Bayul and turn him around to face him.
"Why are you—!"
Just then, a single tear rolled down from the boy's gray eyes. His gaze was unfocused, as if bewitched by something.
What? Why is he like this?
Had Quinn said something that would make him suddenly burst into tears?
Is crying this guy's special talent or something? Why does he keep crying in front of me? Now it looks like I'm the one at fault!
So annoying.
He truly was a high-maintenance human being.
"Can't even manage a tie like this, and a grown man's bawling over it?"
Quinn irritably fiddled with Bayul's necktie.
"You a crybaby or what? Why are you crying like that? Did you come down with depression or something?"
Quinn's hands were rough and unhurried. A few quick, precise movements, and the tie was done in no time.
"There. Look."
Bayul's body turned around. Quinn stood behind him, hands resting on both his shoulders.
"Well? Not bad, right?"
In the mirror, Quinn stood a full head taller than Bayul. Satisfied with the necktie, the corner of Quinn's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
"...Huh?"
It was a smile Bayul had never seen before.
So he can smile, too.
The unexpected sight snapped Bayul back to his senses, and only then did he notice the tie around his own neck.
"Oh — when did you...?"
"While you were busy crying."
"While I was crying?"
Only then did Bayul catch sight of his own face in the mirror and recoil in shock. He hadn't even realized he'd been crying. He hurriedly wiped away the tear tracks.
"No need to be so shocked. It's not like it's the first time I've seen it."
What does he mean, not the first time? When else have I ever cried...?
"By the way."
Quinn, lifting his second-period textbook and about to step out of the room, stopped for a moment.
"Once a day, and that's it. I can't watch you cry twice."