Building Close Friendships (2)
Afternoon break time. The campus had already slipped back into the embrace of deep night. The island's fleeting daylight had vanished without a trace, leaving only the magical streetlamps scattered around the grounds to push back the darkness with their warm glow.
We flopped down at an outdoor table near the building. The chill wind brushed my busted lips, snapping me awake.
"Phew, now I can breathe."
I pressed a drink cup I'd grabbed from the cafeteria against my cheek.
"Ugh, seriously. Teaching those kids ain't easy. Not easy at all."
Jayden, who'd been quietly listening to my griping laced with a deep sigh, spoke up in his usual deadpan tone.
"So you got into a fistfight during class?"
"Letting an insult slide is a disgrace for a mage."
Jayden scanned my sorry state and spat out curtly at my bold reply.
"You're just a disgrace."
This punk?
"Man, no loyalty. When your buddy comes back beat up by a bunch, you think about helping first."
"I'm not idle enough to play along with your games."
Jayden snorted at my teasing words. Rupert, sitting next to him, stared at me like he couldn't fathom why I'd insist on outdoors in this chilly weather, pulling his thick cloak tighter over his blazer.
"Dude, seriously... what the hell happened to your face? Rolling in the dirt with dormmates from day one of the semester... What if rumors spread?"
"Rumors? I got no rumors left about me anymore."
Even in Gratia, full of slackers, we were already famous as the idiot duo. Too late to play innocent now?
I fiddled with the steaming cup, gazing out at the darkened campus. The sky looked like midnight, yet we still had one more class left—hard to believe. Occasionally, auroras danced overhead, their shimmering curtains a breathtaking sight.
Part of why I'd stubbornly chosen this cold outdoors was to get some fresh air from the stuffiness, but mostly, I wanted to soak in this subtle scenery with my friends a little longer.
"We late?"
Jane showed up dragging Lily along, her hands full of dessert boxes from the cafeteria.
"Ooh, you came, Hermione."
"I told you not to call me that!"
Jane sighed deeply, like she was too annoyed to even respond anymore.
"Ugh, whatever. Here. I got some for you guys too, so eat up."
It had been a while since lunch, with dinner still ahead—perfect timing for a snack. I snatched the treat Jane offered and shoved it in my mouth.
Nom nom nom.
The sweet flavor filling my mouth made me forget the sting of my split lips for a moment.
"As expected, only Lily Mom looks out for us!"
Jane's brow furrowed perfectly at my nonsense.
"Why would I be her mom?!"
I kept munching my bread, unfazed by Jane's sharp yell, white cream and sugar dusting my lips. With the most serious face in the world, I stared at her.
"Nah, you're always 'Lily this, Lily that,' hovering over her every little thing. And didn't we learn the one who gives yummy stuff is Mom? Take it or leave it."
"Where'd you learn that crap?! And we're both still kids, duh?"
Jane let out a disbelieving chuckle but couldn't tear her eyes away, worried about my busted lip. Sure, I was just a classmate obsessed with food, but after hanging out so long, some affection had built up—worrying was inevitable.
"...Hey, doesn't it hurt? Shouldn't you hit the infirmary for some magic healing?"
"This? It'll heal by morning after some sleep. Magic? No one knows it anyway, and begging's a hassle."
I wiped my mouth casually with the back of my hand. Stuff like this healed with spit.
Jane sighed at the rough gesture. Noble kids would throw a fit over a tiny thorn, but this guy was thrilled over a pastry despite his mangled face.
She pulled a small handkerchief from her pocket and tossed it at me.
"You're filthy. Wipe off the crumbs. And... tone down the fighting."
I caught it, wiped my mouth neatly, and flashed her a thumbs-up.
"Thanks. But next time, grab some milk too. Milk pairs best with these desserts."
"...Where'd you sell your conscience?"
Jane shook her head in exasperation, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. Despite her words, she knew Lily—gloomy since entering the academy—had been smiling more lately, all thanks to this guy.
"Heh, conscience? That's me. Watch your words before the King of Conscience, Hermione."
"Haa..."
Jane let out a deep sigh. If he just skipped the dumb jokes, he'd be perfect. The guy had zero sense of atmosphere—gratitude soured in an instant.
Eric Daylent, Vigo Devote, Soren Leiden. These three had been friends since childhood, bound by their shared heritage as heirs to prestigious families that had produced mages for generations.
But even in their solid bond, a clear hierarchy existed. The Daylent family—one of the great 10 Houses—took the lead with its prestige, while Devote and Leiden followed in its shadow.
Naturally, Eric always lorded over the other two. On a street lit by magical lamps, amid passing students, his irritated scolding rang out sharply.
"Damn it! Three of us rush him, and you can't handle one puny kid? You idiots!"
Eric kicked a pebble at his feet in frustration. Chubby and skinny—er, Vigo and Soren—shrank under his blazing glare, mumbling excuses.
"S-sorry... N-next time, we won't let him go. Just bad luck this time."
"Yeah. We tried hard, but my hand slipped. The guy's slippery like an eel."
Vigo and Soren piled on excuses. Seeing Eric's brow furrow deeply, Soren hurriedly added,
"He suddenly kicked out, caught us off guard. A mage with no dignity—like a total barbarian! We just got careless."
"Still, Eric, his lip was shredded. We didn't go down without a fight."
Vigo rubbed his bruised arm with a sycophantic grin. Eric snorted dismissively, glaring coldly. The two straightened up in unison, pledging boldly.
"Next time, no need for you to step in. We'll flatten his nose for sure!"
Eric pinched his temple and sighed deeply.
"Is that your excuse? Haa..."
Generations-old family ties—he'd trusted them as reliable allies. But seeing these so-called mages flail against one kid's punches? Regretting even scheming with them.
'Tainting the family name has limits.'
Eric suppressed his boiling disgust, staring down his cowering friends coldly.
"Hoo..."
After a low breath, he added in a icy tone.
"I'll let it slide today. Go clean yourselves up."
With that curt dismissal, Eric turned and walked away without a backward glance.
'Damn.'
Eric reflected on their bitter feud. At first, he just wanted to teach that lowborn her place. He couldn't tolerate her—trashy and talentless—having talent comparable to his.
Watching her waste that precious gift filled him with loathing and unbearable irritation. So he'd planned to crush her ambitions thoroughly.
But then some rabid mutt appeared out of nowhere, barking and ruining everything. The more he clashed with the guy, the deeper he sank into the mire.
His noble honor splattered with mud, rolling filthy on the ground. Now it felt like even he was being mocked beyond those lowly ones—blood boiled in reverse.
At some point, that talentless girl faded to the background...
Eric's mind overflowed with thoughts of that rabid dog, that yellow monkey.
'What to do?'
Letting it go would hobble him with lost prestige. Rumors of a Daylent heir toyed with by some nameless mutt? Game over. He'd hang his head anywhere, mocked by countless families.
'If only I'd used magic then.'
Eric recalled flying from the kick. Enraged, he'd raised his wand—but their eyes met, and he lowered it.
Emotionless, disinterested, inorganic eyes. For some reason, a compulsion screamed not to use magic. The gaze vanished like an illusion, but inexplicable dread gripped him.
'Was I scared?'
Unable to swing, Eric had charged with fists. He landed a few, but that look lingered.
"Goddamn it!"