Ink-Stained Fingers and the Pink Miracle
Throughout lunch, a blue ink stain lingered between the index and middle fingers of my right hand like a badge of honor.
"……This is driving me crazy. I really can't remember."
I ignored the pathetic gurgle echoing from my empty stomach as best I could and forced strength into the hand gripping the pen. My muscles were stiff as if cramps were about to set in, but I couldn't stop. All morning, my head had been consumed with the obsession to perfectly recreate the vanished [Page 4] and [Page 7] from memory alone. Skipping lunch entirely and holing up in an empty classroom to wrestle with parchment, I'd barely managed to force-fit about half of the [Mana Explosion Trajectory Formula]. But the elegant conclusion of the [Emergency Repair Budget Request]—the one I'd poured my soul into for the administration office's picky review—refused to come back to me in its perfect phrasing.
Ah, damn it. They say you can never recreate a nighttime draft stone-cold sober the next morning. That raw, desperate emotion just doesn't survive.
In the end, clutching my throbbing wrist, I had to head to the outdoor training grounds for afternoon practical magic class with a half-finished, sloppy reconstruction tucked under my arm.
Two in the afternoon. The sunlight pouring over the training grounds was indifferently warm and peaceful. Under the thick shade of trees at the edge, the empire's strongest beast—who'd devoured an extra-large steak for lunch—succumbed to fullness and post-meal drowsiness, nodding off with her head drooping. Leaning against the tree trunk with her silver hair cascading down, she looked exactly like a massive feline throwing a nap tantrum.
Standing beside Reina, I kept hawk-eyed watch on our surroundings, wary that the chattering students might wake this sensitive predator and set her off. My own eyelids, half-closed, felt like lead weights, and my mind buzzed with half-written formulas swarming like flies.
I hope class ends quick. I've gotta finish Page 7 when we get back…….
I was lost in a daze, counting grains of sand on the training ground floor with bleary eyes, when it happened.
Sssslither.
From one corner of the training grounds—where the fresh scent of grass should have lingered—a pungent, artificial rose perfume assaulted my nose on the breeze. It wasn't fragrance; it was like someone had dumped pure air freshener concentrate.
"……Hm?"
I instinctively wrinkled my brow and turned. From behind a massive oak at the edge emerged someone clutching her skirt hem, creeping forward hesitantly. It was the marchioness's daughter with her silver-pink hair neatly combed back: Seraphina von Lumière.
She looked much improved from when I'd left her passed out in the infirmary that morning, but her cheeks were still flushed red down to her neck.
What? Already out of the infirmary? Her fever hasn't fully broken yet. Kids these days—when they're sick, they never just rest; they have to wander around.
The instinctive nagging of a ten-year veteran teacher rose in my throat, but exhaustion swallowed it back down.
Seraphina glanced wildly at the surrounding students the whole way over, shoulders hunched like a spy infiltrating enemy territory to deliver top-secret intel. Her furtive scanning was downright eerie.
Finally, a step away from me, she lifted her bowed head to peek up. Those round eyes still pulsed with the same damp, obsessive fervor I'd seen in the morning hallway.
"S-Sir Ev-Evans……."
Panting, she thrust out both hands she'd hidden behind her back. At her trembling white fingertips was the source of that headache-inducing rose stench: a dazzling pink envelope with ornate gold edging, the kind sold only at the empire's finest stationery shops.
"Pl-Please…… t-take this……!"
She practically shoved the garish pink envelope into my chest. Her fingers brushed my uniform jacket, but the dizzying rose assault from the envelope overwhelmed any other sensation.
What is it? A thank-you note for escorting her to the infirmary? Noblewoman or not, who sends thanks this extravagantly…….
I stared down at the thick pink envelope with a dubious frown. It was sealed tight with red heart-shaped wax.
"Pl-Please…… b-before it's too late…… y-you must read it……!"
Covering her explosively flushed face with both hands, Seraphina froze in place, staring up at me intently. Her gaze was thick, sticky insistence that I check the contents immediately.
With a weary sigh, not wanting the hassle of arguing with this troublesome lady, I indifferently cracked the heart wax.
Inside was a single sheet of pink stationery drenched in perfume, with two thick, crumpled sheets folded behind it. Absentmindedly flipping aside the pink sheet, I checked the thicker papers beneath.
My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.
◈ ……The error formula for load distribution due to a 30cm deep rupture in the marble column cross-section is as follows……
◈ ……Due to the above unavoidable yet inevitable collision…… I hereby firmly request emergency budget allocation.
A……! Aaaaaaaaaa!!!
A hymn of joy erupted from the depths of my gut. My fatigue-grayed vision exploded with colorful fireworks.
She found them! Oh god. Thank you for sparing me overtime tonight!
Like a parent reunited with a lost child, I clutched the crumpled, torn parchments, trembling with emotion. The overwhelming relief of not recalculating those formulas made the panting Seraphina before me look like a guardian angel.
But seriously, just hand over found documents normally. Noblewomen gonna noblewoman—wrapping lost paperwork in pricey perfume-soaked envelopes. Overpackaging culture is the same in this world or my past life.
Swallowing my K-salarieman grumble, I opened my mouth for heartfelt thanks—
Then my gaze skimmed the ornate script on the enclosed 'pink stationery'.
Assuming polite thanks for the find, I glanced down carelessly. Brain-melting madness slammed my optic nerves.
……Sir Evans, your poignant phrase 'unavoidable yet inevitable collision' left behind has crumbling my heart helplessly.
No matter if the cruel pillar of status between us 'ruptures 30cm deep', I shall not yield.
I gladly accept your blind sacrifice and resolute 'request form'……
"……."
I squeezed my eyes shut three times hard, then opened them. Must be temporary dyslexia from overnight oxygen deprivation to my brain.
But rereading, those sentences on the flashy pink stationery shredded my sanity unchanged.
……What the hell is this?
My brow furrowed into a trench. I compared the torn [Page 7] damage report with the pink stationery lines.
Did she read my property damage report and write a book review?
Or quote my paperwork to mock me?
'Status pillar ruptures 30cm deep'?
'Accept my resolute request'? What nonsense. Why is the prose so warped.
I stared hollow-eyed at Seraphina, blushing, hands clasped to her chest, gazing up at me.
Ah…… Her fever hasn't broken.
My ten-year ex-teacher logic reached a swift, rational conclusion.
Morning delirium from brain fever, flu virus still gripping her nerves.
Fever delusions mixed random admin phrases from found papers into bibimbap in her hot head.
Yeah, don't overthink nonsense from a sick kid.
Whether she'd spun some weird romance fantasy book review didn't matter. The key fact: I'd escaped overtime hell tonight.
I crumpled the bizarre pink notecard in half, shoved it in my pants pocket, and cradled my precious Pages 4 and 7 originals.
With the world's brightest, sincerest smile, I bowed politely to Seraphina.
"Milady. You have no idea how anxious I was about losing these vital documents and failing to submit them to administration."
"Finding and returning them like this—you're my lifesaver. I won't forget this kindness……."
Right as I poured out genuine praise for her efforts—
Ssssslide—.
Behind me, the faint presence that had been dozing against the oak turned chillingly, spine-tinglingly cold.
The warm spring breeze on the training grounds froze subzero in an instant, a murderous dissonance.
I snapped my mouth shut and whipped around.
Reina had risen silently from the shade, slipping between me and Seraphina at an angle. Her drowsy half-lidded purple eyes had narrowed to needle slits, gleaming with feral hostility.
"……Grrrrr."
From deep in her throat rumbled a low, menacing friction—not human speech. It was unmistakably a beast's savage snarl at a stranger lurking near its possession.
Sssshhh—.
Mana steamed from her feet like haze, crushing the air heavy. The first-years' lively chatter around the grounds cut off like a lie—prey animals instinctively silencing before a predator.
Reina's gaze pierced straight at Seraphina, who'd blocked her path to hand over the pink envelope. Her pupils, slit narrow in sleep-rage, stood her silver nape fur on end.
This wasn't the indiscriminate killing intent from the cafeteria rampage. It was primal, instinctive possessiveness: I won't tolerate a strange she-cat near what's mine—pure territorial marking.
"H-Hng……! Ah……."
Facing that overwhelming naked enmity head-on, blood drained from Seraphina's face. Her explosively red cheeks went ghost-white; she trembled like aspen leaves, staggering back unconsciously.
Haa, what a handful. Stranger approaches at prime naptime, so she's throwing a sleepy tantrum!
My ten-year teacher-cum-dedicated-squire instincts fired at lightspeed.
If she melts down and unleashes mana here, the whole outdoor training ground flips.
Then instead of submitting Pages 4 and 7 tonight, I'd be writing an extra [Outdoor Training Ground Damage and Subsidence Repair Request]! My overtime freedom is right there!
Cold sweat slicked down my spine at the nightmare vision.
Clutching the originals in my pocket with one hand, I reflexively wedged my body into the tense space between Reina and Seraphina.
"Whoa, whoa. Your Highness, calm down."
I fully blocked Reina's view with my broad back, extending a hand in perfectly natural, practiced motion.
Smooth, stroke.
My large, firm palm settled lightly atop Reina's silver head. Then, like soothing an angry cat's crown, I petted her hair in steady, gentle, heavy rhythm.
A tempo honed taming countless pubescent fists in my past life—maximum reassurance skinship.
"……."
At my touch, Reina's growling cut off like magic. Her slit purple pupils rounded back, peeking up at me.
Still pouty, but leaning into my palm's warmth, she lowered her eyes and retracted her bristling mana in a flash.
A volcano on eruption's brink pacified to calm with three strokes—taming miracle.
Confirming Reina's mana fully settled, I turned to the rigid, breathless Seraphina behind me.
With the world's weariest wage-slave face—but mustering maximum kindness in my smile—I said,
"Milady. As you see, Her Highness is quite fatigued. Post-meal drowsiness has her extra cranky."
Petting Reina's head firmly with one hand, I delivered flawless business thanks with my mouth.
"I'll never forget your kindness in returning these precious documents. But with flu symptoms lingering this change-of-seasons, you'd best head back to the dorm and rest."
I drove the wedge home.
Documents retrieved—now vanish from my sight, a teacher's desperate send-off to quietly finish afternoon class.
But Seraphina's reaction to my polite dismissal was bizarre.
"Ahh……."
Her ghost-white cheeks flooded explosive blush again. Hands clamped over her mouth, she stared up—not in fear, but piercing my 'forced smile while placating the cruel tyrant's head'.
Plop.
A heroic tear rolled from her big eyes.
Eh? Why cry suddenly? Reina's growl that scary?
I faltered mid-pet, but her gaze held no terror. It brimmed tragic, sublime pathos—like a heroine watching her lover charge to death's field.
"……I understand. Your will…… I take it fully to heart."
Whispering in quavering voice, wiping wet tears, Seraphina said,
"Enduring all this…… for my sake. Please, preserve your precious health……!"
Like bidding final farewell to a lover dragged to the guillotine, she nodded deeply, gravely at me.
Then clutched her skirt, glanced back with anguished eyes, and bolted from the training grounds.
Her retreating figure was pure heartrending escape artistry—no dry eyes possible.
"……."
I watched Seraphina sob-sprint toward the entrance, smacking my lips with hollow eyes.
Flu virus finally hit her language center, huh.
'Understand my will'? What will.
Understand my desperation almost pulling an all-nighter over lost papers? 'Preserve health'—what drama are we filming.
No matter how I chewed it, just sick-kid nonsense.
I resolved not to waste more brain cells.
My priorities: not upsetting the beast's mood, and this miraculous reality of reclaimed blood-sweat papers.
"Alright, Reina. Stranger cat's gone—now ditch the dirt floor for that bench over there. I'll block the wind while you nap more."
Fondling the crumpled [Pages 4 and 7] in my pocket, I beamed the world's brightest, freshest smile.
Subdued rampaging beast, dodged overtime. No happier ending possible today.
Cadel the K-salarieman's languid afternoon flowed peacefully thus.