Becoming Friends Without Friendship - (3)
Morgan trudged across the quiet academy grounds, clutching a bundle of leftover food she had secretly asked the staff to save for her. The cafeteria scraps were wrapped in paper and held close to her chest.
…
A red-haired witch carrying various foods wrapped in parcels, cradling them carefully as she walked. To anyone watching, she looked exactly like a beggar returning from a successful round of pleading.
If the children of the Republic’s noble senators—especially that woman—had seen her, they would have picked a fight without fail. Fortunately, no such confrontation occurred.
It was the second day of the Sun God’s Sabbath holiday. Almost no students remained on the grounds. The only sound came from laughter drifting in from the distant shopping district. Seniors and classmates alike had all gathered there.
Morgan forced the corners of her mouth upward in a mocking smile.
…
They’ve only just entered the academy, yet they’re already rushing off to play. If that’s all they’re going to do, why did they bother coming here in the first place? …Still, it’s not bad that no one’s around to mock me for how I look.
“…Pathetic fools.”
Her voice trembled slightly. But there was no one to hear it.
Morgan continued across the grounds until she reached the Magic Department’s territory. She passed through the new building’s corridors bathed in spring sunlight, then headed toward a dim corner of the old school building—a storage room.
Step. Step…
…
The place she finally reached was gloomy, completely unlike the bright academy scenery. It resembled a dark cave filled with cobwebs and dust. This was Morgan’s personal workshop.
The moment she saw the shabby door, Morgan let out a sigh of relief. The tension drained from her shoulders, and she slid down to sit in front of the door.
“Haa… thank goodness…”
Luckily, she hadn’t run into anyone. Once the tension eased, a ringing filled her ears. From beyond her subconscious, terrible imaginings began to whisper.
What is that, sewer sludge slime? Why are you taking leftovers?
Oh my god… even commoners don’t do that.
You’re tarnishing the name Driach…
Well, she probably faked her identity to get into the academy.
That girl doesn’t even deserve the name Morgan. Let’s just call her ‘Beggar Mori.’
Ahahaha! That’s perfect!
Beggar Mori. [Beggar Mori.]
[You are nothing.]
[No money for materials, so you’re asking to borrow some…? Do you not interact with anyone at all?]
“…!”
Morgan squeezed her eyes shut against the unnaturally vivid hallucination. Her head throbbed, and tears threatened to spill. Reason and imagination clashed, making her nauseous.
“Ugh…?!”
Damn it, imagining things that haven’t even happened…!
She couldn’t throw up. If she stayed hungry like this, she’d have to beg for food again before dinner. The students returning from the festival would really mock her then. She had endured enough humiliation for a lifetime. She knew how to avoid it now. No. Hold it in.
“Ugh…!”
Gulp—
…
Morgan forced the bile back down. Along with the burning pain in her throat, the half-digested food flowed back into her stomach. Covering her mouth with both hands, she scanned her surroundings with tear-filled eyes. Fortunately, no one was there.
…
The moment she realized that…
“…Hic.”
Tears began to fall. A pathetic hiccup escaped from behind the hands covering her mouth.
“Hic… hic.”
There was no one around. She was alone. Even if she disappeared from this world, no one would notice.
…
Morgan barely managed to stand on her trembling legs. Then, as if nothing had happened, she wiped away her tears and mechanically recalled what she needed to do today.
Drip—
The sorrow vanished like mist, replaced by emptiness.
…First, rest for a bit, drink some water. Write a letter volunteering as a test subject for the ‘back-alley experiments,’ then clean the alchemy cauldron so it doesn’t burn, and when the appointed day comes, wash with water from the campus well and go to the experiment…
She would earn money and buy red herbs. Her own body was something she could pay with without hesitation. Thanks to the Vow of Chastity, the experiments were safe and rational. Her dignity would be preserved, and she would be participating of her own will.
…Anyway, no one cares. Even if this frail body gets more chemical side effects or scars, who would notice? For studying, all I need is one functional hand.
Besides, hadn’t her arms already become a mess of scars from the wounds she inflicted on herself? A single scratch on a magic catalyst could halve its price, yet here she was, able to participate in experiments as ‘fresh material’ with a body covered in scars. All things considered, it seemed like a fairly rational decision.
…
She was selling her own body as an experimental tool, but somehow it felt like it was happening to someone else, which made her heart strangely at ease.
Just as she was rising with that cold, mechanical mindset, a flash of red caught the corner of her eye on the ground in front of the workshop. It was a bundle of red herbs neatly tied with golden thread.
Morgan froze, wondering if she had seen wrong.
“?”
She set down the wrapped food and touched the red herbs with her hand. The vivid texture was unmistakable. The herbs were a brighter red than her own hair. Even when she brushed her hair back, they stood out clearly. It wasn’t one of the hallucinations she had occasionally seen since her mother’s death. Moreover, beside the bundle of herbs, a note written in elegant handwriting was tied together with the golden thread.
A present for you.
“…?”
Reality slowly returned to her dazed mind. Tears streamed down one side of Morgan’s face again. A storm raged inside her chest. But the only thing in her head was a single question.
“Who…?”
I’m not someone who deserves to receive a gift from anyone…
Yet above all else, she felt an involuntary sense of relief. It was the true feeling she had hidden in a corner of her heart.
Ah… thank goodness. I don’t have to become a test subject now.
…
The tears quietly flowing from Morgan’s eyes did not stop. And the next day, and the day after that. In front of her workshop, along with notes, the other materials she needed were neatly placed there. Herbs, fruits, oils…. Exactly the amount required for her classes.
…
It was the first kindness she had ever received in her life. And so.
Morgan was afraid.
What on earth do they want from me…?
*
Fifth day of the Sun God’s Sabbath festival. Although no classes were held at the academy, Lydia’s group continued their early morning training. They had gathered at their usual clearing.
Arty was sparring with Mave, sharpening his sense of real combat swordsmanship. Lydia and Aria watched silently from the corner. The two wooden swords clashed with crisp sounds.
Crack! Crack!
Lydia regarded the scene with satisfaction.
Originally, Arty should have been disarmed within five exchanges, but he’s already learned the rhythm in just a few days. In the original story, the tutorial would have ended by now, but right now he’s a proper swordsman.
The current Arty looked as if he had pulled forward the strength he would have gained several months later. The change was truly tangible. But he was still lacking.
During the endless exchange of offense and defense, Mave finally spotted an opening.
“Haha! Country boy! Your legs are wide open!”
“Kugh—?!”
Mave slipped her leg between Arty’s as they faced each other with swords raised, then hooked it like a sickle and yanked. Arty’s stance immediately collapsed and he fell.
Both had reached the Fluid realm. Having accepted mana into their bodies, the power they exchanged was on a completely different level from ordinary students. Arty rolled all the way several meters away.
Crash—!
“Guh…?!”
“Hahahaha!”
Mave strutted over to the fallen Arty with a triumphant grin.
“Country boy, this is the difference in our levels.”
“Shut up and just help me up already.”
“Hehe…! With pleasure.”
Mave smiled and reached out her hand, but… Arty didn’t use it to stand. Instead, he pulled her down. Mave let out a pathetic sound as she fell too.
“Kyaa—?!”
“Puhaha! Now our eye levels match!”
“Y-you rude country bastard…!”
The two of them immediately began roughhousing on the dirt floor, using joint locks and the like in a playful scuffle. The sight of them wrestling while pressed close together carried a refreshing innocence, like country boys playing around.
Lydia watched with a sigh.
The problem is that Mave is also a beautiful girl on the outside, so it looks a bit lewd. No, why did that guy Arty suddenly start playing around so casually with a girl?
During their intense(?) wrestling, the softness and elasticity of Mave’s body were clearly revealed. But neither of them seemed to care at all as they played, which was strange.
…
In the original story, this was the stage where he would have freaked out at even touching the heroines’ hands.
True to the protagonist of an adult game, once the lewd events start, he goes straight for it.
Mave shouted like a boy.
“Country boy! Take my joint lock!”
“Ack! I counter with a leg twist!”
“Ah?! You bastard?! Where are you grabbing?!”
“It’s a swordsman’s duel!”
“Ugh…!”
Lydia tilted her head.
A boy and a healthy beautiful girl grabbing each other’s bodies and rolling around passionately… When you put it into words, it sounds weird.
Lydia glanced at Aria.
…
…
Aria’s face had taken on a complicated, subtle expression. She shook her head and sighed. It was a sigh tinged with a bit of resignation.
“…Haa.”
…
It seemed she felt jealousy, but the situation was too ambiguous to truly be jealous about. Neither fully negative nor positive…
It’s subtle. I should stop them for now.
“Ahem.”
Lydia clapped her hands.
Clap, clap—!
“Both of you look like donkeys rolling around on the ground. That’s enough. We’ll end today’s training here.”
“!”
“!”
Mave and Arty, who had been squeezing each other with all their strength, stood up awkwardly. Mave belatedly realized the situation and smacked Arty on the back.
Thump!
“Ugh, you rude bastard.”
“Hmph, what about it.”
There was none of the subtle tension Lydia had been worried about. Aria approached the dirt-covered Arty. She grabbed his sleeve and began wiping his face.
“…Hero, no matter what, you shouldn’t make a lady roll around on the ground.”
“Ah, um… I’m sorry.”
Arty’s ears turned bright red as he hung his head. He suddenly broke into a cold sweat and fidgeted restlessly. The bold spirit of the adult-game protagonist who had just been grappling Mave’s body vanished in an instant. Only the innocent country boy remained.
Lydia finally understood the situation.
That guy… does he no longer see any woman except Aria as a woman? I did push them together, but I didn’t expect it to happen this fast.
“…Hah.”
It had only been two months since the entrance ceremony. In the original story, this was the point where the tutorial had just ended and full player control began. If there had been no special strategies or inheritance points, it would have been the stage where he had barely managed to leave an impression on the heroines’ faces. It was ridiculously fast.
Lydia reflected on the changes that had occurred so far.
The biggest change has been in his relationship with Aria…
Aria had approached Arty of her own accord. The two of them had gone through life-and-death struggles together and become strongly aware of each other. They stamped their faces together every morning, and during the festival period they had gone on a date alone. Any nobles or other heroines who tried to interfere had been lightly dealt with by Lydia. All the unnecessary humiliation events had been completely skipped, allowing Arty to grow with confidence.
…
Hmm. Come to think of it. Two people already entangled as Hero and Saintess becoming this closely involved was practically holding a sword to their throats and threatening them to just fall in love.
…I did push the pure-love route quite hard.
As a result, Aria had been wiping Arty’s face for over five minutes.
“There’s… there’s a lot of dust.”
“Y-yes, there is. Thank you, Saintess.”
“But you still look cool.”
“…Thank you.”
…
…
Aria slightly raised her eyes and asked.
“Hero, do you dislike it?”
“What?! No way! Rather, like this…!”
“L-like this?”
…
“…?”
“It’s nothing.”
Thump thump, sweet and sour, tingling and electric. The two had created a realm that even a Sword Master could not invade. And even though they wanted to say something, they swallowed it like a hiccup. They couldn’t even define their own feelings.
…
…
Lydia watched them and came to a conclusion.
They became aware of each other and fell for each other too quickly, so now they’ve become overly cautious…. I pushed the pure-love route too much, and their emotions have swelled beyond the memories they’ve accumulated.
Their emotions had overwhelmed their memories, causing them to lose confidence. If she urged them here with ‘Confess, your heart is love,’ they would probably run away like cowards and make ridiculous excuses.
—As a Saintess, my duty is…!
—How could someone like me, a commoner, dare…!
It was an adorable but headache-inducing stage.
I should have pushed them more moderately.
However.
When she thought about Morgan, who would soon join them, it might actually be better for the two of them to be so strongly aware of each other that no gaps existed at all. Even if the pace was a little slow, this was preferable.
If they suddenly become a couple and regain their composure, they might waver in the face of what’s to come. It’s better to leave them alone so the ground can harden after the rain.
Wouldn’t a couple who experienced fated love be more solid than a couple who got together in just two months?
The decision to leave them be. That was Lydia’s philosophy of pure love.
…
Mave approached Lydia’s side. She was watching the two with suspicious eyes.
“Don’t you think the atmosphere between them is weird?”
“…Just leave them be.”
“No, is it really okay to leave them like that…?”
“They are still sprouts who haven’t even realized their own feelings. It is proper etiquette to watch over them warmly without stepping on them. They will probably soon say ‘Let’s start as friends’ and link their pinky fingers.”
“Oh my god, Sun God have mercy…”
Mave stuck out her tongue in disbelief. Leaving them behind, Lydia began walking toward the dormitory. The party looked at their de facto leader.
“Ah, Lady Lydia! Are you leaving first?”
“Indeed. I have business to attend to, so I shall go ahead.”
Arty scratched his cheek and said.
“You’ve been leaving early a lot lately. You used to stay with us until the end of training…”
“It is because I am giving a gift to a genius.”
“A genius?”
“Yes.”
At Lydia’s words, Arty, Aria, and Mave all tilted their heads in confusion.
“?”
“?”
“?”
*
Creak. Slam!
Whoosh—!
In front of Morgan’s workshop. Lydia had intended to leave only the gift at the door as usual, but the shabby wooden door suddenly turned into an illusion that swallowed her whole. As a result, she had been automatically transported inside the workshop.
Lydia inwardly admired it.
…To create such a sophisticated illusion barrier with catalyst materials that should be lacking due to lack of funds—Morgan really is a genius.
Lydia looked around the dark workshop—it looked like a storage room. And in the deepest corner, sitting on the desk with her legs crossed, was a girl… The red-haired girl, the witch Morgan, narrowed her eyes and glared at her. In the darkness, her red eyes sparkled like jewels.
Lydia thought unconsciously.
…To think that such beautiful light is considered a symbol of lowly birth in the Republic. What blind fools.
…
…
Morgan spoke.
“You. Who are you.”
“Lydia de Gallia. That is this lady’s name.”
“Royalty? Why would royalty…”
Morgan bit her lip. Then she looked at Lydia’s hand. Sure enough, it held magic catalyst materials neatly tied with golden thread.
“What is your scheme?”
“…Nothing at all. This lady merely wishes to offer a gift to an honorable genius. Perhaps we could even become friends.”
“Don’t spout nonsense. Admiration, friendship, honor… those things are worth less than trash.”
Morgan raised one corner of her mouth.
“Do you think I wouldn’t know the petty schemes of nobles? Do you think a girl born from a commoner’s womb would be clueless? Speak your true intentions honestly. Why do you keep leaving materials in front of my door? Pity? Threat? Mockery? Whatever it is, say it.”
…
It was an outrageous attitude. No matter that she was a foreigner, speaking so aggressively to royalty from another country was extremely dangerous in itself. But Lydia did not waver.
It’s a bluff. And part of her self-destructive personality. Before she can be abandoned, she abandons first… Looking closely, her hands are trembling.
Lydia spoke confidently. Even inside the dark, warehouse-like workshop, her golden hair sparkled.
“This lady wishes to become a friend who uses you.”
“…What?”
Morgan was taken aback. Lydia continued.
“Therefore, would you not also use this lady as a friend?”
“…”