Night of the Full Moon (7)
Night of the Full Moon (7)
Rina Rosewell was kind.
Ask anyone who knew her, and every last one of them would say the same.
A gentle smile. Warmth. Consideration. She was always looking out for others.
Friends, family—everyone who knew Rina loved that about her.
In short, "kindness" was her identity.
She was the sort of person who could approach a total stranger, share a day's worth of idle chatter, laugh, say goodbye, and leave them feeling brighter.
Rina knew better than anyone that this was how others saw her.
"That's what everyone expects from me."
Meeting those expectations was satisfying. When people were satisfied, they warmed to her immediately, gravitated toward her.
She used to enjoy it.
But at some point—she wasn't sure when—
- Rina will help, right? It's obvious. I'm struggling here.
- Always taking care of the younger students. That's our Rina.
Those "expectations" hardened into a mold.
A mold that dictated Rina Rosewell must be kind, considerate, and effortlessly sociable.
- You're Rina Rosewell, so you have to be good.
Before she knew it, that was how every compliment sounded.
Eventually, her own image swallowed her whole.
People leaned on her as if it were their right. Some came to chat because they were bored. Others sought serious advice about a cheating lover. Some needed help with a difficult assignment, or just wanted to know what lesser spirits looked like.
Acquaintances. Friends. Even family.
All of them leaned on her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Because Rina was so thoughtful. So good.
At first, being useful made her happy. She told herself it was a joy—she lied to herself thoroughly.
Maybe that was why.
The rot began from deep within.
"...I'm struggling too."
Rina hugged her knees.
Her parents had died in an accident. The household was her responsibility now.
If she wanted to feed her younger siblings and restore the family name, she needed credentials.
She'd begged and pleaded with relatives to get into Lichten Academy.
"...The truth is, I have to claw my way through life, too."
She didn't even have money for daily survival.
Food. Supplies. She only bought what was absolutely necessary—and often couldn't manage even that. If she took any comfort, her siblings suffered.
That was the weight of the household Rina Rosewell carried.
To raise her siblings and revive her family, she had to graduate from Lichten, no matter what.
Which meant she had to compete fiercely.
She had to win a scholarship.
"... I'm not that good of a person."
Her fists were clenched tight. She hadn't noticed when she'd done it.
Rina exhaled and uncurled her fingers.
Then she looked around.
"......"
A space saturated with darkness.
She'd realized she was trapped here a few hours ago.
- The moon is bright tonight.
The last thing she remembered was thinking how unusually vivid the moon looked. Then she'd opened her eyes to this.
Everything around her was pitch-black, like she'd fallen into the deep ocean.
But Rina thought she knew where this was.
"...Inside my own consciousness."
The reasoning was simple.
She'd been through enough strange phenomena to guess.
One day, a voice had started echoing inside her head.
- It's hard, isn't it?
- You don't have to be so good all the time.
She was terrified at first.
She thought she was losing her mind.
But as she listened, the voice grew on her.
It told her exactly what she most wanted to hear.
— Look at that Ian fellow. He's blocking your path. Don't you think he needs to be removed?
At some point, sharp bursts of aggression began surfacing.
She resisted, initially.
But she couldn't forget that honeyed whisper.
Then it hit her.
These whispers were dredging up things already lodged deep in her own heart.
'... So these are my true feelings.'
Once she framed it that way, all restraint fell away.
— You want to be stronger, don't you? I can help.
Listening to the whisper accelerated her growth. Her mana surged until she could barely contain it. Her faith in the whisper only deepened.
— Will you lend me your body?
One day, when the whisper asked that.
Rina nodded.
That was the first time she lost consciousness.
And that moment—she welcomed it.
Waking up afterward left her feeling unbelievably refreshed.
A sense of liberation from everything that had been crushing her.
— KWA-BOOOOOM!
One day, she attacked Ian from behind.
When she regained her senses, she felt no regret. A small part of her whispered that something was wrong, but even that unease was swallowed whole.
Because.
'... It was me who hated Ian.'
Ian.
Ian Blackangus.
Him, she genuinely despised.
She'd disliked him long before the strange whispers started.
If Rina was defined by the mold of "kindness," Ian was the one crack running through it.
She could be kind to everyone else. Only with Ian did that kindness fail.
The whisper seized on that crack.
After she began listening, all her aggression aimed itself at him.
"...Why did I act that way?"
Why. Why had she singled out Ian with such hatred?
And now, trapped inside her own head—
Why did his face keep surfacing?
Why couldn't she stop thinking about him?
"......"
Rina tightened her arms around her knees.
Then she buried her face and let the memory rise.
Her first meeting with Ian.
◆
Early in the semester, right after Rina had entered the academy.
This was before the occupant of Ian's body had changed.
Magical Sculpting Practicum.
"Everyone brought their materials, yes? Then we'll begin."
Rina was broke back then, too.
After buying her books, she couldn't afford even the essential supplies.
But admitting she'd shown up empty-handed was too humiliating.
"......"
Bracing herself for nothing, she reached into her desk.
Obviously, her fingers wouldn't find anything.......
- Rustle
Something brushed her hand.
'... What?'
Eyes wide, Rina carefully pulled a paper bag from inside the desk.
Nestled among the practice materials was a small note.
A message dripping with ulterior motives, signed at the bottom: Ian Blackangus.
'... Ian. The one with all those bad rumors.'
Word was already going around that he'd been hitting on several girls and getting shot down.
Rina turned her head toward his seat.
Ian was staring at her intently but jerked his head down the moment their eyes met.
'... Yeah. Creepy.'
Rina fell into thought.
Should she use these?
But then she thought of the siblings she'd left back home.
She wasn't in a position to turn down help.
'... And honestly, I am grateful.'
Ian's bad reputation was just that—rumors.
Truthfully, when she'd first opened the bag, she'd felt touched, even a little moved. It was only after reading the note that discomfort and pressure set in.
She grew a little curious about him.
So after that—half uneasy, half grateful and intrigued—
the same thing happened at lunch.
"Rina, let's grab something to eat!"
"Ah, well..."
Buying food outside was too much. But she hadn't brought a lunchbox either.
'... No way.'
Half-hoping, she reached into her desk.
A lunchbox was sitting there, as if it belonged.
"Rina, what's up?"
"Oh... yeah! Let's go!"
The help continued for days.
Without him ever once approaching her.
Every time she checked inside her desk, whatever she needed was there, like magic.
'... Maybe he's actually a good person?'
Her guard toward Ian began to melt.
Maybe he was decent after all.
She couldn't recall anyone ever taking care of her like this.
And at an academy full of students in the prime of their youth, no less.
'... He must be interested in me.'
Thump.
A faint ache flickered near her heart.
It wasn't an unpleasant feeling.
After being helped out of tight spots so many times, she naturally grew curious.
One day, she asked her friends.
"What do you guys think about Ian?"
A casual, offhand question to hide her growing interest.
"Oh, him. I heard he bought Sharon a sword the other day."
"He's busy running errands for Lady Emilia, too."
"There isn't a girl he hasn't confessed to. Isn't it kind of disgusting? He gives me the creeps."
"Seriously. The absolute worst. But why do you ask, Rina?"
"Ahaha. No reason. When did that happen, though?"
"Just yesterday."
The very same day he'd left the supplies and lunchbox for her.
Clearly, the guy was casting lines at anyone who moved—exactly like the rumors said. A walking stereotype.
Rina bit her lip.
Betrayal surged up inside her.
She loathed the fact that she'd felt even a flicker of interest for someone like that. The first person at the academy she'd felt anything for.
"......."
"Huh? Rina? What's with your face? Are you okay? Are you sick?"
She came back to herself and found her expression twisted.
"Ah... ahaha. No. Just a little dizzy."
That first taste of betrayal was like a shot of pure coffee extract. Her mouth was bitter beyond words, with nothing sweet to chase it down.
That was the day the first crack appeared in Rina's "kindness."
Time passed.
Supplies and food always appeared inside her desk, though the notes stopped.
She hated using and eating them, but Rina was too desperate to let pride dictate.
Then, one lunchtime.
She checked her desk out of habit.
Oddly, there was no lunchbox that day.
'... Fine. It's better not to take them.'
She'd rather go hungry than keep feeling this awful, Rina decided. She'd head into the woods later and forage for berries.
Clutching her empty stomach, she slumped forward onto her desk.
— Clack.
A lunchbox landed on the desk. Rina lifted her head.
Hair so black it seemed ominous.
Ian Blackangus stood there.