The Girl Only I Could See
Thanks to Quinn's unexpected help, Bayul made it to class without incident. The uniform felt a little strange, since it was his first time wearing one, but there was a quiet satisfaction in being dressed the same as everyone else.
He liked the yellow emblem stitched over the left breast, too. It felt, at last, like he had truly become a student of Carrington Academy.
Best of all was how noticeably the stares had diminished. Silver hair was rare, sure, but unless someone got a good look at his face, they couldn't be certain he was Bayul — and so far fewer eyes bore into him than they had yesterday.
I should've worn this from the start.
With the same regret as before, he opened the door to the lecture hall. A few empty seats remained — all of them clustered around Quinn. Bayul didn't hesitate; he walked straight over and sat down beside him without a hint of apology.
"Whoa, this is huge!"
"Guess the two of you became best friends after whatever happened last night. Unbelievable!"
Exactly as expected, the whispers rippled around the room. Quinn ignored them entirely, staring straight ahead as he said coldly,
"Move."
Bayul had never expected a warm welcome, so he simply opened his book without a word.
"Did I stutter?"
"No."
"And yet?"
"Can't I just sit with you?"
"No, you can't!"
"Why not? I tied your necktie for you, didn't I?"
"That was—!"
Because you were crying, that's why!
Quinn wanted to shout it, but he couldn't. Too many eyes were watching.
"Ugh, fine, I'll move—!"
Just as Quinn half-rose from his seat, Professor Wingkin Runner, the class's instructor, strode in through the front door. A chorus of groans — ugh, not again — rose from every corner. Starting the lesson before the bell rang was Professor Runner's signature move.
Damn it.
That was the end of any seat-changing. Bayul allowed himself a small, hidden smile, while Quinn twisted his face in disgust and dropped back into his chair.
Professor Runner was a slight man, but his face carried the kindly warmth of the friendly uncle next door. As his gaze swept the students and landed on Bayul, he gave a small wink. He didn't call his name or anything of the sort, but that seemed to be his way of greeting.
"Looks like everyone's seated. Shall we begin?"
Grumbling all the while, the students dug out their books one by one. Bayul, reading the room, flipped to the right page as well.
"Today's topic is: how the scandals of prominent figures in the spirit world send shockwaves through society. Would anyone care to read?"
The moment Professor Runner finished speaking, a girl in the front row shot her hand up. He nodded with a smile, and she immediately stood and began to read aloud.
The subject matter was heavy, but whenever the reading turned to actual scandals from history, it grew entertaining enough that Bayul found himself paying attention without even trying.
The Empire was a paradise of scandals. Incestuous marriages within the royal family, affairs between nobles, the illegitimate children those affairs produced, forbidden love between members of the same sex — the list went on and on.
Even Bayul's father, Duke Randert, had once been at the center of a scandal that shook the Empire to its core: his marriage to a commoner.
What kind of person was my mother, really?
That her own son knew less about her than the servants of the duke's estate did — what contradiction could be greater?
The ring...
The moment he thought of his mother, his eyes drifted to Quinn's ring without his meaning them to. His mother had come to meet his father carrying that ring — a precious treasure of the Mermaid Kingdom.
His head grew tangled all over again. Something about all of this felt as though a secret lay buried beneath it, and that frightened him. Was she really my mother? Was she even human?
His thoughts kept circling back to the merfolk, conjuring up absurd imaginings he couldn't stop.
Mmm...
Perhaps it was punishment for daydreaming in class — a sudden headache crashed over him. And then, after so long, a very long time, he heard the voice again.
—Does it hurt a lot? Should I make it stop hurting?
His heart plummeted. The voice had been quiet for quite a long while, and now it rang out against his eardrums without warning, nearly sending Bayul into a panic.
Why already...? It's barely been a week since the ritual...
Fewer than seven days had passed since he and Father Juan had performed the treatment in his home territory. This couldn't be happening. It simply couldn't.
—Hold still. Whoosh! Feels nice and cool, right?
SLAM!
Bayul shot to his feet, and his chair clattered backward to the floor. Professor Runner and every student in the room turned to stare at him in shock.
But the most startled person in the room was Bayul himself. Hearing the voice was bad enough — now something cold had touched his forehead.
Water? Or a drop of rain?
He tilted his head back, wondering if it had started raining, but the sealed ceiling filled his vision. There wasn't a single crack through which rainwater could leak.
This had never happened before. Until now, the voice had only ever been something he heard — never something he could feel. Had his illness grown worse? Why? Because of what?
"Hey, what's wrong with you?"
Quinn looked up at Bayul as if he'd lost his mind. At that question, Bayul turned his head absently — and a child came into view.
Six years old? Seven, maybe?
A little girl with long blue hair braided neatly into twin tails was smiling up at him, a mischievous grin playing across her face.
"You... it's you...!"
He wanted to ask if she was the one who had been speaking to him, but the words wouldn't come.
—Huh? You can see me now?
Of course he could see her. His eyesight was perfectly fine; he wasn't so blind as to miss someone standing right in front of him.
Wait — a person?
She was clearly smiling and talking like a person. But she wasn't one. Bayul's instinct told him so.
"You, you... who are you?"
—Me? I'm just me!
"What?"
"Who are you even talking to?"
Just as Bayul scowled at the little girl's bizarre answer, Quinn cut in.
"...Can't you see?"
"See what?"
Perched on the edge of Quinn's desk, the girl waved her hand excitedly. And still — they couldn't see her?
Bayul took a trembling step backward. It wasn't just Quinn. Not one of them could see her. He was the only one in the entire room who could.
First phantom voices — now phantom sights.
"B-Bayul!"
At this new symptom, Bayul collapsed where he stood.
Chapter 9: Water, Fire, Wind, and Earth
"Huh? What's going on?"
Aidan, drenched in sweat and swinging his sword for all he was worth, first sensed something off when class was nearly over. Restlessness seeped in through the windows of the Administration Department lecture hall nearby, and soon students came pouring out. A moment later, he spotted someone sprinting beneath them — carrying a person on his back.
"What happened? Did somebody collapse?"
"Wait, isn't that Quinn?"
"Nobody else has that height with that hair color and length. Who's he carrying?"
"Silver hair? And he's headed for the temple — must be pretty serious."
What stunned everyone wasn't the news that someone had fallen ill — it was the sight of Quinn himself carrying someone and running. They'd only ever seen him alone, so the sight of him with company felt awkward and almost surreal. That was exactly why nobody registered who was on his back. Not until Aidan started screaming, anyway.
"BAYUL!"
"Huh! That's Bayul? Duke Randert's son?"
"They said he had some terrible illness — guess it was true! Collapsing the moment school starts, what is he even doing? What if he dies right here?"
"No kidding. How's he supposed to manage academy life like that?"
Had Aidan heard any of that, he'd have snapped at them to mind their own business and get back to their own work — but unfortunately, the boy was already sprinting toward Bayul, so none of it landed.
"Aidan, the bell hasn't rung yet!"
He didn't hear Schubik grabbing at him, either.
"Class is about to end anyway — he could've just toughed it out. Seriously, that guy's impatience is something else."
Just as Schubik grumbled, a black shadow streaked past him.
"Huh? Hey, Logan! Where are you going now?"
He was lucky the professor had stepped out for a moment — leaving class mid-lesson meant demerits.
"What is it with you honor students? Not a shred of fear in either of you, huh."
Muttering with a scowl, Schubik soon tilted his head.
"But why's Logan running? Aidan I get, but what's it to him? Does he even know Bayul?"
As far as Schubik knew, the two had never crossed paths.
"Hmm, maybe it's something else entirely?"
But the whole vibe felt too suspicious for that. When had Logan ever moved like that?
The academy's most popular heartthrob and the finest swordsman in the Knight Department was defined by two things: a man of few words and unshakable gravity. No one had ever seen him rush, in any situation, and nothing outside of swordsmanship held his interest.
And that Logan was sprinting toward the temple like a man possessed? Why? What for?
Schubik couldn't stand a mystery. He was the resident information broker, after all. Demerits were on the line, sure, but sitting still would've been an insult to his own pride.
"Eh, what's the worst that could happen?"
After a moment's hesitation, Schubik tossed his sword aside and took off after his friends.
"What? Where'd they go?"
He'd chased after them immediately, but by the time Schubik reached the temple, he couldn't find so much as the hem of Logan's coat, let alone Aidan. The only thing there to greet him was the same creepy statue as always.
A naked man, head buried between his drawn-up knees, clutching his skull in both hands. It was one of the most iconic representations of the God of Despair. His face was hidden, but his whole body radiated despair.
Of all the gods they could have enshrined at an academy where students came to learn, the God of Despair? Some might call it a mismatch, but there was a reason this temple stood where it did. It had existed long before the academy was ever built. Legend held that, in the academy's earliest days, its enormous donations had been a tremendous boon to the founding.
Perhaps that was why, despite having fewer students than even half of any other department, the Theology Department commanded no small weight within Carrington Academy.
"Was the treatment room this way, or that way?"
Maybe because the bell hadn't rung yet, the temple's interior was dead silent. He'd only ever been near the place before — this was his first time stepping inside.
Unless you were a Theology student, or badly injured somewhere, there was no reason to come here. Back in the hometown where Schubik was born and raised, they'd worshipped the God of Abundance for generations.
"Even gloomier in here than it looks from outside."
Fitting for the God of Despair, everything about the place felt bleak and shadowed. The ceiling, the walls, the floor — all of it pitch black — and the nameless beasts carved into the pillars looked ready to leap out and swallow Schubik whole at any moment.
"Ugh, places like this are seriously not my thing."
His damned curiosity was the problem. Other people could master their curiosity just fine — why couldn't he? Sometimes he genuinely hated himself for it.
"Is it this door?"
"A sign or two would've been nice, you know? Those Theology kids have gotten lazy."
He tried picking a pointless fight to drown out his fear, but nothing changed.
"Okay, okay. Stay calm. Calm down. The kids will obviously be behind this door. Yeah. Definitely."
Steadying his breathing, Schubik slowly reached for the door handle.
Grip!
Someone seized his shoulder — that was the moment.