A Demon Lives in the Academy (4)
The students' footsteps were frantic. Even with their weary, shuffling gaits—as if the exhaustion would never lift—there was a mad gleam in their eyes, a desperate need to press forward anyway. Groaning low, long noises like they might collapse at any moment, they dragged themselves toward their lecture halls. Their hands, their bags, everything stuffed to bursting with books and reference materials, and still they sank into their seats.
Then, once seated, they would thump their forehead against the desk exactly once, straighten back up, crack open the books, and begin to study.
It made sense, really.
Yes, there was tension in the air with word that an Inspector was prowling the Academy—but to the students, an Inspector simply wasn't something to fear. Not unless you had a criminal record, and most students hadn't committed any crimes yet. Presumably wouldn't, either.
So the point I'm trying to make is this: what terrified the students wasn't some Inspector or other. It was the fact that finals were exactly one week away.
I sipped at an iced americano—well suited to the warming weather—as I walked the corridor.
Tap, tap—
Beside the sound of my own shoes came, as a matter of course, the click of Professor Elia's heels.
"Professor Niger, do you know this is the first time in three years I've seen you like this?"
"You mean walking around with coffee in hand?"
"Yes~ Every time I discover something new like this, I'm reminded of just how much you've changed."
Elia no longer seemed to find any of it particularly novel. She simply beamed, content to bask in the rare blessing of a shared free period between lectures.
"I must have caught it from you, Professor Elia."
"Oh, well, that's a rather nice thing to say. Hehe!"
At my casually tossed remark, her steps took on a light bounce. The soft smile she'd been wearing melted into something utterly unrestrained—a goofy, helpless grin—and she shook her head, giggling.
Perhaps it was because I'd been so busy lately that the only time we spent together anymore was the walk home after work. Whatever the reason, she was more animated than usual. It was a little funny, honestly, given how starkly she contrasted with the students shambling around us like the walking dead.
Then Elia stopped mid-giggle, lifted her head as though something had just occurred to her, and looked up at me.
For a moment, she looked exactly like a puppy angling for treats.
"Oh, right. So—have you met the Inspector who came this time? I haven't caught so much as a glimpse of her yet. I don't understand how I haven't run into her even once."
"If the Inspector takes no interest in someone, that merely means that person is honest and clean. It's a compliment, if anything."
"Ah~ true enough! Then I suppose you haven't run into her either, Professor? Hmm... I was a little curious what sort of person she'd be."
"Ahaha..."
I, for my part, had run into her every single day that past week—as if I were the prime surveillance target. She came by during lectures, of course, and dropped in to chat whenever I was resting, which meant I hadn't drawn a single proper breath in seven days.
So, you murderous bastard. What am I supposed to do if you insist on killing everything with the mace? You're supposed to mix it up—kill some with a sword, some with an axe, some with a spear—use the whole arsenal evenly, aren't you?
[I have a fair idea what you're thinking, but the mace is simply what I handle best.]
Seriously. It's not like you're a mind reader—how do you catch everything?
[Not a mind reader, no. But your emotions, brother, are remarkably transparent.]
Would you look at that. For someone whose head is such a storm of tangled feelings that even I can barely keep track of him, he's suddenly very perceptive.
Although—right now, I could read him too, I thought. This emotion, in particular.
[I am currently thinking you're pathetic.]
He was calling me pathetic.
"..."
Why, this little—
While Niger and I traded feelings in the depths of our shared soul, a voice that was not Elia's drifted up from behind.
"Hm, forgive me if this is an ignorant question, but is it truly acceptable for a priest to be so... close with a woman?"
"Er... Inspector Scarlett?"
The voice belonged, naturally, to Scarlett Brahe—the one person who seemed to exist solely to surveil me. I tilted my head, thrown by the non sequitur. Was having ties with women somehow on the list of aggravating offenses now?
But that hadn't been her intent, apparently; Scarlett waved both hands in denial and went on.
"Ah, this is purely personal curiosity. Of all the priests I've known, not one was ever married."
"Uh, hm..."
In the split second I was agonizing over how on earth to answer, Elia—who had been rolling her eyes back and forth between us—had a small revelation, and her eyes lit up.
"The Inspector? Oh! So you're the Inspector everyone's been talking about! Hello, I'm Elia Claudius. I was so curious what sort of person you'd be—you're absolutely gorgeous!"
"Oh—yes. A pleasure. I am Scarlett Brahe, Deputy Director of the Imperial Inspectorate. I'm currently seconded to the Academy as Inspector, though Professor Claudius's name is famous even in the far corners of the Empire."
Perhaps it pleased Elia to be recognized by someone of the Deputy Director's standing. Her invisible tail was wagging furiously.
Leave it to Elia—devoted connoisseur of beautiful people—her radar had registered Scarlett's looks as a direct hit.
"Oh my, really? I don't think I've ever done anything famous, though?"
"You're the Academy's youngest professor, are you not? A beautiful count's daughter with outstanding ability on top—the salons are always abuzz with talk of you. Though I've never attended one myself, so I wouldn't know firsthand."
To be precise, the youngest professor was Niger—but Niger was merely a guest lecturer.
Anyway.
"Woooow... I haven't been to a salon since I was a child either, so I wouldn't know. How fascinating. Oh—right, what were you asking about before?"
"Whether it is acceptable for a priest to be intimate with a woman. I asked because I was curious."
At last, back to the point. And the answer, naturally, was delivered with a hand planted on her hip and a smug little expression on her face.
Not from me—from Elia.
"Of course it is! Not many people know this, but the previous Pope was married, and there's no doctrine anywhere that says a priest can't love a woman!"
"Ho. That's news to me. A fascinating fact."
Scarlett nodded along, genuinely intrigued, her gaze flicking between Elia and me.
"Hehe~"
Elia looked delighted to be the one sharing knowledge with the room. Her nonexistent ears and tail were practically vibrating.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
There was a time when I'd assumed that living as a student, rather than a duke's daughter, would at least be easier.
That assumption was part of why I'd come to the Academy in the first place. I wanted to shed the crushing weight of my station. I wanted to turn my back on the exhausting, relentless deference of noble life, the endless lessons piled upon lessons. I'm fairly certain those were the thoughts in my head the day I enrolled.
After all, nothing could be harder than life as the Duke's daughter.
So when did that illusion shatter?
Was it during the entrance duels? No—it couldn't have been. Nobody at the entrance duels had displayed any real skill.
Then perhaps when the lectures began? No, not that either. I was hardly so dim that I couldn't follow the coursework.
Yes. I know exactly when it was. It was the day I sat in on Professor Niger's divinity lecture. That was the beginning, without question.
It was Divinity Fundamentals. A first-year core course—a class with the word fundamentals right there in the title. It should have been gentle, taught by any priest who wasn't a lunatic. Instead, the reality was a classroom crumbling under the flailing of a priest gone mad with power.
Looking back now, I suppose he went easy on us. But those days were, without a doubt, harder to endure than any hardship I'd faced as the Duke's daughter.
And then came the midterm—or rather, the midterm for Divinity Fundamentals proved the true ordeal. When I think back on being thrown into the Forest of Hallucinations to face that mad professor's endlessly multiplying phantoms, I can't recall a single memory stranger or more terrifying.
And after that came Professor Niger's lectures, delivered as retribution for what happened in the Forest of Hallucinations...
No. Wait.
Is this man not just a complete lunatic?
So he's the culprit—the reason my life as a student is harder than my life as a duke's daughter ever was.
Anyway, the point I'm making isn't about the professor's many failings. It's this: preparing for finals was proving harder than I'd expected.
With the semester drawing to its close, assignments had come pouring in from every direction. Even the courses that had been manageable at midterm were now running wild. It had already been a week since I'd slept more than two hours in a night.
There was a brief moment when I considered dropping out entirely.
Because once I slogged through this miserable hell and graduated, I wasn't exactly going to be scrambling for employment.
After all, I was destined to succeed His Grace, Duke Feltner, and become a duke myself.
"Haaah..."
Enough of that nonsense, though. The unfinished assignments still stood a forearm high, and the exam prep for next week wasn't going anywhere either.
I was walking down the corridor, lost in exactly those thoughts, when I saw it.
"Of course it is! Not many people know this, but the previous Pope was married, and there's no doctrine anywhere that says a priest can't love a woman!"
"Ho. That's news to me. A fascinating fact."
Professor Elia, smiling as though she hadn't a care in the world. Inspector Scarlett, nodding along beside her. And one step apart from the two of them, the professor—just... smiling.
My brow furrowed.
Was it Professor Elia's honey-dripping eyes that bothered me? Or the Deputy Director of the Imperial Inspectorate who'd materialized out of nowhere as an Inspector? Or was it the professor, who didn't spare me so much as a glance and talked only with them...
No.
No, that's not it.
The reason I felt sour right now was simply that watching them lounge about in comfort, while I was being worked half to death, rubbed me the wrong way. That was all. It was just irritating—watching the three of them chat at their ease while I was dying over here.