A Dog and a Cat Can Never Get Along (3)

Set atop my desk was a letter from House Feltner — or rather, a letter from Bellatrix. Naturally, the contents were concise. One might say her personality came through in the letter itself, plain and unadorned.

And there was nothing wrong with it, either. It was nothing more than an ordinary arrangement of a time and place to meet. If there was a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠problem, it was simply that Saturday was already the day I had a promise with Elia. And since that promise was also a lunch date, I couldn't imagine a more troublesome predicament if I tried.

"Niger."

[Speak.]

And so I quietly called for Niger. He had stayed silent like a man fast asleep right up until I called his name, and the moment the word left my lips, his answer came.

"What am I supposed to do in a situation like this…?"

[Why are you asking me? Your own karma is yours to settle.]

Not that I'd call that a good answer. He brushed off my plea for help with that blunt voice of his, then added that I shouldn't bother him with pointless nonsense when I could answer instantly whenever he called me, and vanished.

How should I put this? That was the thought that kept coming to me lately whenever I watched Niger. He was unmistakably a murderer, but now that we shared one body and even held conversations, did it make sense that he felt almost… normal?

Niger was undeniably a madman obsessed with killing. The affair with Professor Prodi proved it, and so did the way he'd tried to snap the criminal's neck at the festival. And yet, he harbored no hostility toward me — if anything, it would be more accurate to say I'd actually begun to relax around him.

Try to think about it, and he'd cut through problem after problem that I'd failed to resolve properly, time and again, in a single stroke. And he never asked anything of me in return, so it wasn't strange that I found myself thinking this way. Granted, the fact that he'd then tried to butcher people without warning was a problem — but at least the blade hadn't been pointed at me.

Hmm. He really was a man I couldn't figure out at all. No, wait. Excuse me, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sir. This doesn't count as karma. Not by any stretch. A little help here, please?

Naturally, Niger ignored every one of my calls after that. He was surely watching and listening even now, yet despite knowing how desperately I pleaded, he kept stonewalling me. How could I be so sure? Because a moment earlier, when I'd ranted that if he kept ignoring me he'd soil his pants, an answer had come flying back instantly.

[Brother. You must curtail your bullshit… if you wish to be tolerated.]

And at those words, I promptly shut my mouth with a gulp. The moment the word bullshit emerged from the mouth of a murderer who had never once cursed, the image of a skull bursting beneath a mace flickered before my eyes. I mean, come on. You're the one who said my calling you "you" felt uncomfortable and started calling me Brother instead — but if you're going to treat me like a brother, did you really have to grind that word out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠through clenched teeth?

Not that Niger had actually clenched his teeth. That was just how it felt. A crime against my feelings, that's what it was.

And so, I arrived at the Academy and, the moment morning assembly ended, summoned Bellatrix for a private word. I had already made an ironclad vow to Elia that we would dine together on Saturday no matter what, which left Bellatrix as my only breakthrough.

"So, um. My lady, would it be possible to meet on a day other than Saturday, by any chance?"

"…Come again?"

"Yes, it's just that I have some business on Saturday, so it may prove difficult. I wished to ask whether another day would inconvenience you."

There was no need to wait all the way until Saturday — today, tomorrow, even Thursday like last time would do fine. But perhaps she read the trouble on my face, because Bellatrix let the corner of her mouth curl up ever so slightly before speaking.

"Hm. Does the professor suppose the station of a Duke's daughter looks so idle to him?"

"No — no, that's not what I meant. It's only that Saturday is difficult for me, so I hoped to ask for your understanding…"

The corner of her mouth climbed a little higher. Her eyes narrowed like someone thoroughly enjoying a show. It was unmistakably a smile now. The trouble was that it was less a warm, courteous smile than a mischievous one, laced with a dash of malice.

"It was you yourself who declared I need only name whatever day I desired, was it not? But now, owing to House Feltner's affairs, every other day shall be terribly inconvenient. What a shame."

No, seriously.

"…My lady, is it truly impossible on any other day?"

"Mm. A Duke's daughter's position is hardly one of leisure, you see — I do wish the professor who had so much free time on weekends would grant a little concession. Besides, aren't you the very man who devotes himself to his students?"

Bellatrix shook her head as though lamenting my plight. Of course, the smile she'd been wearing since a moment ago only deepened, leaving her face uncharacteristically radiant.

"…"

Perhaps because of that, no answer would come out of me. I had never once seen Bellatrix wear such an enchanting expression, or smile like she was having the time of her life — and so I simply couldn't bring myself to beg again.

"Oh, don't tell me. Is it fashionable among the priests of Elohim these days to say two different things with one mouth? Hmm. If that's the trend, I could make an allowance for it — though to learn the professor is one of those pitiful creatures…"

No, are you insane? Bellatrix, just how serious are you about tormenting people?

Even as I thought that, I ended up nodding my head. Once someone deploys that kind of shameless rhetoric, there's simply no argument left to make — I suppose that was just how it was.

"No — no, it's fine. I shall… see you on Saturday, then."

"As expected of a professor — I knew you were not one of those pitiful creatures. Truly an exemplary specimen of humanity. I have learned something new from watching you today."

Learned what, exactly? What on earth did you watch and learn? This from the woman who calls me a lunatic professor every other day.

I watched her as she said it, smiling. Her shoulders, so perpetually stiff and guarded, bobbed — uncharacteristically — and even her usually somber frame bounced with a light little step. And so Niger's words kept circling round and round in my head.

Your own karma is yours to settle.

Yes. Whatever else might be true, this one was definitely my karma. Ugh. Life, honestly.

I had no choice but to turn on my heel. Bellatrix continued to refuse my request with the utmost grace, repeating only that she would see me at lunch on Saturday no matter what. Even offering to go easy during lecture hours, or to assign her lighter homework, did nothing. All I got in return was that smile — the one that said she could endure this much suffering on my behalf, so I needn't worry.

Honestly… she was more two-faced than usual today.

And so the person I finally worked up the courage to speak to was, for now, Elia. Should I really be saying this to her, wearing that dazed, happy expression as we walked out of work together? Was I truly supposed to tell the woman who looked that blissful that there was no way out?

"Professor Elia, I was wondering if…"

"Yes! Go right ahead!"

"Ah — no, never mind."

How am I supposed to say this? How do you tell someone who beams because you spoke to her first that you want to postpone your Saturday promise? I was the one who insisted we meet for lunch on Saturday no matter what happened, so I — the one now asking to postpone it because another appointment came up — was committing nothing short of a sin. And so I whispered, small and pitiful, reaching for a helping hand.

"…Teacher Niger."

[Karma. Yours to settle.]

Naturally, Niger swatted my outstretched hand away the instant I reached for him. Oh, come on.

"Professor Niger, is something the matter? Perhaps you have a favor you'd like to ask of me?"

Just how contorted must my face have been, thinking such things? Elia wiped that bright smile clean off her face and looked at me with open concern. She stopped walking, stepped in front of me, and met my eyes. And because of that, somehow, my guilt only deepened. It felt like the lunch I'd eaten was sitting heavy in my stomach.

"Ah — um. It's nothing."

"You can tell me, you know…. Could something have come up with our Saturday plans?"

"…"

Is she an investigator?

"Hmm… I did beg awfully hard for it, but honestly, if something's come up, postponing is perfectly fine. There's always Sunday, after all."

"No, it's… I'm sorry. I need to have a meeting with Sister Bellatrix, but she says she's busy and Saturday lunch is the only time that works."

Faced with her gently smiling face, I ended up giving her a brief explanation of the whole mess.

"Ahh, so it's a student meeting. Hmm… in that case, why not simply have lunch together? Finish your meeting over the meal, and afterward the two of you can go wherever you like."

Elia's eyes went round with understanding. She hummed thoughtfully for a moment, tilting her head — and then the answer came, swiftly. Truly, a consideration entirely unlike someone else I knew.

"Professor Elia, are you certain that's all right…?"

"Of course. It's only a student meeting, after all. Besides, someone of the Duchess's standing really might be too busy for any other day."

Though from where I stood, that didn't seem to be the reason at all. And just as that thought crossed my mind, Elia's voice came again.

"Although… there is one thing I'd like to ask of you…"

"Yes, I'd grant you any favor you wished."

Unlike her usual self, she had put ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the word favor in her mouth. Her face was flushed red. She fidgeted shyly with her fingers, and the light of the setting sun caught her, making that expression and that figure of hers glow soft and warm. This was Elia, who had never once asked anything of me — if anything, she'd only ever earnestly granted my requests. When she murmured the word favor in such a timid little voice, how could I possibly have refused?

"So… you see…"

"Yes."

"We may be fellow professors, and we're both adults and all, but… I'm the older one here, you know…?"

"Yes, that's true…?"

What was she getting at? From what I remembered, she hated it when her own age came up.

"So… mm, would it be all right if you called me Noona? Just once?"

"…Pardon?"

"Call me Noona, just once. Play up the whole younger-man thing, all cute, just this once."

"…Pardon?"

What manner of mad demand is that, Professor Elia?

"Hurry up and say it. You did promise to grant any favor I asked."

"…Professor Elia."

Her cheeks, flushed with embarrassment, were still flushed. She clearly understood exactly how mortifying a request she was making.

"Not 'Professor.'"

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that?"

"Call me Noona."

I'm afraid I can't make out a word you're saying, Professor.

Yes, I really do think something must be wrong with my ears. Maybe I should cast a restoration spell on them when I get home.

"I can't seem to hear what you're saying."

"You can hear me perfectly fine! Hurry up and say it!"

"Professor Elia, don't you think you ought to act your age…?"

"Hey! It's only a few years!"

She urged me to hurry up and say it even as her face burned crimson, and my remark about acting her age sent her blushing all the harder. Then again — perhaps it was that those glittering eyes of hers, impossible to hide behind any expression of embarrassment, were a little frightening. A fierce, unyielding desire gleamed in her pupils: she would hear that word out of me if it killed her.

No — act your age, please. If you're embarrassed too, then stop flashing those hungry eyes about.