I Am a Bad Person
Yuria's drunken question, asking about an emotion I'd never once felt before, left me with a puzzled sensation.
'You don't hate me.' Wasn't that the question I should be asking? In the relationship between Yuria and me, the perpetrator was me, not her. Victim and victimizer. Even if I'd toed the line and tormented her, the fact that I had bullied Yuria remained an unchanging sin. Even if I'd halved the hardships she was originally meant to endure.
The ordeals Yuria faced at the Imperial Academy would be her first real trials, and I was one of the main culprits who'd gifted them to her.
Harboring these doubts, I looked into Yuria's eyes. Moisture glistened around her damp, teary eyes. Her gaze, laden with complex emotions, left me momentarily speechless.
"Why do you ask something like that?"
"...Just wondering."
At Yuria's curt response, tacked onto with a vague "just," I paused for a split second. Hating others wasn't a feeling I was familiar with anyway. Having long cut ties with that nagging bastard called conscience, questions like hers were hard for me to answer.
I hesitated before replying to Yuria.
"Not hating you... yeah... I guess so."
"..."
Yuria gripped the handle of her beer mug tightly. Her head bowed, ears perked up, her slender fingers trembled faintly with every quiver of her lips. I turned to her with a questioning tone.
"Why do you think I hate you, Yuria?"
"Because I did something terrible..."
"Terrible?"
Her word—"terrible"—threw me into thought.
"Did you dip into my wallet or spit in the coffee you gave me? The first would be serious, the second... well, I'll hold my tongue."
"Nothing like that."
"Then I really don't get why you're asking."
In response to my question, Yuria asked in a trembling voice,
"Why..."
"Yes?"
"Why don't you hate me?"
I repeated what I'd said moments ago.
"I told you. There's no reason for me to hate you."
Yuria's expression began crumbling into tears. Maybe because she'd been worrying so much lately, her choked-up face struck me as a bit pitiful.
"Don't lie."
"Because of me... no, because I... I..."
She stammered the same words, then bit her lip hard. I didn't know exactly what she was trying to say, but it seemed related to me. Maybe she'd learned about one of the incidents at the academy. The girls' dormitory fire, perhaps. Or one of the lies I'd told her. I'd moved so discreetly to avoid detection, but someone must have seen.
Not dwelling much on past events, I spoke calmly to Yuria, who was voicing her question in a quavering voice.
"What reason would I have to hate you?"
"..."
"Sure, my personality's a bit of a bitch, but I know my place."
Yuria fell silent at my response. Lips pressed tight, unable to speak, she murmured softly in a tiny voice, 'Why are you pretending not to know... You know everything...'
The atmosphere had suddenly turned into a game of truth or dare, and realizing I needed something out of it too, I cautiously opened my mouth.
"Let me ask a question this time. It wouldn't be fair if only you got to ask."
I clasped my hands politely on the table and said,
"Do you hate me, Yuria?"
Yuria hesitated, fists clenched tight. From her demeanor, I felt I'd gotten my answer. The alcohol might make it easier for her to speak freely on the surface, but deep down, her heart must be charred black. Not hating me would be the weird part. Even if the things I'd done were for her sake in the end, the wounds they'd left were real.
I didn't even think she should be begging for forgiveness. That in itself was the problem.
So.
I spoke in a voice close to a firm declaration.
"As you know, I'm a man without a conscience. Mm... you could call me a villain."
Yuria shot back without hesitation, her voice firm and denying.
"No, you're not."
"Thanks for saying that, but the Yuria who saw me at the academy knows better."
"There were reasons for all that...!"
I clenched my fist.
"What reasons?"
"..."
"What reasons make you think I bullied you?"
"Lady Olivia...!"
"Hm."
I figured things needed to sour a bit now. Though it was honest, hoping Yuria would draw a clear line, I coldly countered her.
"Even if the lady ordered it, if I'd refused, none of it would have happened."
If I hadn't stepped in, it might have been worse for her, but I didn't say that. It'd be uncool. And I didn't want her feeling guilty. That was my form of atonement. One of the few gifts I, as a possessor, could give Yuria. So I said something a little painful to her.
"If I'd given you a heads-up beforehand, it might not have been so hard. Or if I hadn't sided with the lady, you might have had a peaceful academy life."
Hearing my cold words, Yuria balled her fists and shouted,
"Then why did you help me?!"
Her voice was thick with emotion.
"In the dungeon, in the classroom, even sitting next to me alone at meals—it was all you, Ricardo!"
"I was nothing to you. I'm a nobody to Ricardo...! Why were you so good to me?!"
"Did you pity me?"
"Did I look pathetic, all alone?"
"Or..."
"Was this all part of your scheme too?!"
Yuria's eyes trembled. Faced with eyes brimming with truth, I couldn't easily bring up the story. I didn't know what to say or with what emotion—this awkward feeling made it hard to decide.
So I wrapped it up lamely.
"...Yeah."
"I don't really know either."
"Guess it's 'cause I'm a bad person."
*
On the way home, a drunk Yuria was piggybacked on my back.
Who'd have thought someone who couldn't hold her liquor would overdo it like this. I'd dodge with an embarrassed smile, and she'd order a beer and down it in one go; give a vague answer, and she'd order another and chug it. Now she'd turned into a total mutt, slumped on my back.
"Ugh... the world's spinning."
"You are, Yuria."
"Urp... ugh... my stomach's churning."
"Gonna have to ask you to hold that in."
Her ominous retching motions worried me, but I couldn't just dump her on the cold ground. With a deep sigh, I headed toward the academy.
"It's been so long, I don't remember the way."
About a year and a half of faded memories had me wandering the park like a lost monk. I should've seen the sign to the academy if I followed the main road, but...
Repeating the same path, I found myself in a gloomy alley.
"Hm... illusion magic?"
I let out a deep sigh. I'd felt someone tailing us since earlier. It was seriously unpleasant. They'd dogged us persistently since we left the tavern, and now that we'd hit a dead end, they were slinking out—like cockroaches under a mattress.
Another deep sigh, and I muttered,
"Wonder if violence from drinking counts as diminished capacity."
Between the dark alley shadows, black silhouettes appeared one by one. The man stepping forward slowly wore the academy uniform, and those behind him had swords at their waists. They approached with a menacing air. Their apparent leader emerged from the darkness and spoke.
"Got your gift. Nice prank, Ricardo. Thought I was done for."
The man with black horn-rimmed glasses. Seeing his face, I flashed a calm smile.
"Hans."
Hans glanced at Yuria on my back and said,
"Drop that."
"Calling a person 'that'? Kinda offensive."
Black, misty energy began emanating from Hans's hand. Pitch darkness shrouded the alley, thick enough to blind us. I said to Hans as he approached slowly,
"Dropped out and went over to their side?"
Hans chuckled softly.
"They give good grades here."
"Hm... I see."
I cautiously placed my hand on Tyrfing's hilt. Then, looking at him with emotionless eyes, I said,
"You should just go."
Hans's eyes trembled greatly at the sight of the black sword blade.
"Or else..."
I'm not the good person Yuria imagines. I'm someone who thoroughly calculates gains and avoids fights I might lose—cunning to the core. The word "good" doesn't suit me. In a steady voice, I told Hans,
"You'll die."
Hans muttered softly.
"Try it."
"Okay."
The pitch-black space vanished with a single slash. Hans stared at me in dismay. Just like Pascal, he muttered under his breath,
"Crazy bastard."
Testing the limits of Black Magic Resistance.