Suspicion Bites Its Own Tail (5)

No. What even is this.

I lifted the envelope sitting on my desk. A letter boldly stamped with the seal of the House of Feltner kept whispering its meaning to me no matter how many times I looked.

The one who had been tailing me all this time was someone connected to the Feltner Ducal House. And if you asked which member of the ducal house had crossed paths with me recently, there was only one possible answer.

Reading the letter would settle it beyond doubt, of course, but my instincts had already drawn their conclusion.

I slit the envelope open with a knife and drew out the single sheet inside, unfolding it wide.

Brief and to the point.

Two lines, and beneath them, a single brazenly written name—the one I'd expected—was the whole ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the letter.

The third Thursday of March meant this week. Two days from now, to be exact. And 21 Crescent Street was, if I remembered right, in the exact opposite direction from where I lived.

"Ah… this is a problem."

Just as I'd been celebrating the disappearance of my surveillance, a far bigger problem had strutted right up and stuck its head out.

What on earth had Bellatrix caught wind of? Aside from the business at the entrance duel, I couldn't recall doing her any harm.

If I were pressed to name something… the fact that I worked Bellatrix the hardest of anyone during lectures, maybe…?

Or could it be that she'd noticed something while Niger's personality was awake instead of mine?

Somehow, that didn't sit right. She didn't seem like the type to hold a grudge for that long over nothing more than interference in a single duel. Come to think of it, though, the way she'd watched me had been unusually, almost bizarrely overt.

Honestly, I'd rather she be doing this because she was interested in me. Like, the truth was she had an obsession with me and that's why she was tailing me, and she'd written this letter because she wanted to confess her feelings….

Ahh.

Refreshingly absurd nonsense—but even so, it was a far more pleasant thought than her suspecting me of being a murderer.

I let out a long sigh.

At this rate, I was going to make myself sick from all this worrying….

I couldn't help wondering how I'd ended up with such a disastrous landlord, living out such an eventful tenancy. It really did seem like I was paying the price for serializing that novel after all.

Still, fine—let's set aside the fact that Bellatrix had been watching me.

But there was a perfectly good mailbox. Why did she have to place it on my desk, in my room?

That's breaking and entering, Professor.

The next day, I went to work as usual.

Perhaps because I'd stayed up late agonizing over the letter, yawns kept escaping me even as I walked the corridor.

"Ah… P-Professor, good morning…."

"Haam… Yes. Good morning, Sister…?"

No, what is wrong with you two now?

I tried to summon a smile for the students greeting me as I passed. I would have managed it, surely, if not for that look on their faces—forcing a grin the moment they ran into me mid-laugh.

My confusion was soon resolved, however, by the whispered exchange between two students passing by.

"Hey, what's gotten into you all of a sudden? Last week you were going on about how handsome Professor Niger is."

"I know, but the kids keep calling him a lunatic. They say they went to his general studies lecture just to relax and nearly died. Apparently he kept begging them to spare his life yesterday—like, over and over. Um, honestly, he's starting to seem like… a slightly off professor…."

Hm.

Perhaps having sharp ears wasn't such a blessing after all.

I forced a bitter smile and turned my mind elsewhere. It was absolutely not because their words had stung and I needed to change the subject. Truly.

After reading that letter the previous evening, I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠remained somewhat unsettled right up until I fell asleep.

Though I'd say it weighed on me far less than the surveillance or the whole affair with Professor Prodi had. If anything, once the watcher's identity came to light, I'd felt my mind ease.

Naturally so—Bellatrix, as I had written her, belonged, if anything, to the ranks of the virtuous.

Granted, she was hardly without her flaws of character. But she would never go so far as to do something as dreadful as reporting a person to the Imperial Inspectorate on nothing but a groundless hunch, intent on ruining them.

Besides, after keeping her watch on me for nearly a week, her course of action upon being discovered had been… a meeting. Which suggested she'd failed to turn up any actual evidence.

Counting it a blessing, I walked on.

Tap, tap—

The sound of my shoes was slowly swallowed by the murmur of students.

Normally I would have stayed in my office a while longer before leaving, but I found my feet carrying me along without quite meaning to. I suppose I wanted to see what Bellatrix's expression looked like.

Would she be wearing a look of turmoil, caught having her surveillance discovered? Or would it be the proud, indifferent expression so befitting her?

Somehow, I found myself curious.

The door slid open with a rasp.

The students were clustered in little groups, chattering away, and a few of them widened their eyes in surprise at my early arrival, staring as I came in.

It was time for morning assembly.

"Good morning, my brothers and sisters."

"Good morning, Professor!"

Delivering the same greeting as always, I swept my gaze across the room.

I spotted Lutz, beaming as he greeted me. Beside him sat Dorothy, and there at the very front row was Agatha White, head bowed.

And among them—Bellatrix, staring holes straight through me.

The students' noisy voices and every glance aimed my way faded into the distance, until only her steady, level gaze upon me remained.

I'd half expected it, yet there was not a trace of turmoil in those eyes. Only a calm, unshakable resolve shone through.

Then, as if the whole thing were a bother, she lowered her head with an air of mild indifference.

Yes—that was a Bellatrix sort of response, through and through.

Unlike my usual self, I answered with a faint smile and a slight bow. Until this misunderstanding was cleared up, smiling too brightly might well prove poison, I figured.

She, in turn, only blinked once, briefly.

It being Wednesday, I finished the morning assembly and strolled through the Academy's gardens.

It wasn't as though a professor had no need to produce research beyond lectures, but I was, for all intents and purposes, a visiting appointee.

Until Niger arrived at the Academy, divinity had existed solely as the province of the Elohim Order.

Every human living under the sun carried divinity within them, but to wield it properly, one had to become a priest—or pay tithes to demonstrate one's faithfulness.

What exactly had brought Niger to the Academy, I honestly couldn't say.

The events of three years prior lay outside the scope of what I'd written into my novel, and in my story, Niger's role had been that of a raving murderer who never once bared his true heart.

From what I'd felt since possessing him, though, he wasn't particularly madman-like at all.

Ah—well, seeing his eyes spin with the urge to kill someone now and then, he was rather madman-like. He could carry himself like a perfectly ordinary man, and then, once in a while, the madness would peek through.

Which raised the question: had this been a split personality from the very beginning?

In other words, Niger's body housed landlord Niger, tenant Niger, and the tenant author of the serialized novel. Three of us.

Yeah. That was insane talk.

I kept walking, lost in such idle thoughts, until a fragrance drifted in.

It was lovely.

That softly spreading scent clung to my clothes. It brushed through my hair as it passed. That pleasant fragrance kept lingering around me, and a smile rose to my face unbidden.

Tap, tap—my footsteps rang out.

In the quiet of the garden, mine were the only footsteps to be heard; the occasional passing breeze was the only sound that crossed them, whistling soft and low.

Mmm.

Come to think of it, what am I supposed to do about Lutz? I should go check on him personally sometime soon, see how his growth is coming along.

And… oh, right. In a little while, there'll be a terror attack at the Academy. Since incidents will start clustering around Lutz, the original protagonist, I need to keep that in mind too.

And the midterm exams after that—maybe I'll ask Professor Elia about running them as a joint practical….

A thousand scattered thoughts.

And I suspected that was precisely because I'd been strolling through the flowers' fragrance.

Walking the garden had quieted my mind, and thanks to that, I could finally untangle the problems I'd been tossing aside under the excuse of being too busy.

Professor Elia had said that Niger was always wandering the gardens alone, and I thought I could understand now what he might have felt doing it.

It really did put the mind at ease.

But then—Niger must have been agonizing over his next target to kill.

Damn it all.

So I roamed the garden, and when afternoon came, I passed the time in the library.

The surveillance was over, but my walks home with Elia had become endless.

Truthfully, there were moments when I felt these wasted hours were a shame—but when I thought it over properly, what exactly would I even do by leaving early?

At best… exchange notes with Niger, I suppose.

Ugh.

Cozy note-passing with a murderer, or a stroll down the street beside a beautiful woman with a generous figure.

You choose.

I'd pick the latter even if I died and came back to life.

And so after work, Professor Elia and I walked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the streets together, same as any other evening.

It was a little wondrous to me.

How could Elia chatter on like this every single day without ever running out of words? Didn't her cheeks ever tire of all that smiling?

I had never been much of a talker to begin with, so all I ever did was respond to whatever she said.

"Professor Niger, then next time we absolutely must have dinner together!"

"…Yes, yes, you may stop now. I have heard and remember, quite clearly."

Though it was admittedly a problem when, unable to refuse, I found promises extracted from me through sheer repetition.

After parting with her, I returned to my room alone.

Thankfully, there was no letter waiting on my desk today.

Tomorrow, I'd talk things through with Bellatrix, clear up the misunderstanding, and somehow explain myself—so with an eased heart, I lay down.

And so I sank into sleep.

…

I opened my eyes.

It didn't feel as though I'd slept long.

My body ached dully, as if roused mid-slumber, and the darkness of the room only deepened that conviction.

"What now…."

I rolled over and closed my eyes again. Sleep wouldn't come easily, but lying there with my eyes shut, I eventually drifted off once more.

…

And then, my eyes opened again.

The room was dark, and some alien instinct brought me upright.

Waking like this wasn't natural. Half of it had been forced upon me.

It was the first time, but I could only guess that Niger had woken me. Just as I had roused him with sleep spells, so too had he roused me.

Because—proof of it, if nothing else—there was a note sitting on my desk.

…

That was what the note on my desk said.

No—Professor Niger, sir. Why are you doing this to me now, of all people?

I'll admit I've been cursing you out in my head quite a lot today, but even so—this is going too far.