Arsen's Holiday (1)
Arsen was unusually bustling on this holiday. Not in a positive way, but in a negative one.
"Ugh......"
"Uweeeek......"
Upperclassmen sprawled everywhere in the grand plaza like squid washed ashore. Here and there, you could see some crawling pitifully toward the dining district. It must have been especially precious since it was the first holiday since the new semester began.
"Huh? Boss, you're opening early today?"
"Yeah, let's open an hour early and close an hour early today."
"Got it!"
As expected, sharp-eyed shop owners had opened their doors early in the morning. The main menu consisted of hangover remedies of all kinds. Even Eastern-style dishes that didn't sell well normally flew off the shelves on days like this.
I sat on a bench, letting the morning breeze wake me up a bit. I'd finished all the important stuff last night. The team was assembled, and I'd even prepared the paperwork for submitting next week.
But could I really lounge around on this sweet holiday?
Unfortunately, no. There was still a ton to do.
Holidays were the perfect chance to knock out the work piled up during the week. And among those priorities, the most urgent was right here in my hand.
A box wrapped tightly in cloth. The suspicious wooden box I'd found in Edel Di Bison's room last night. The "Box of the Evil Spirit" that could have birthed a second banshee if left alone.
"What to do with this thing......"
I'd brought it because leaving it seemed like a bad idea, but disposing of it was another headache. The easiest way would be to bury it. But that would saturate the area with yin energy, polluting the local ley lines over time. If the yin energy got too strong, it could summon undead or cause hauntings.
And Arsen was already filled with yin energy from the recent dormitory fiasco. Burying it would almost certainly trigger an undead party across the entire academy. If someone dug it up, it'd be even worse.
Right now, it was wrapped tight to prevent accidental opening, but the moment that box popped open, Arsen would face a second ghost outbreak. Whoever opened it would get possessed 100% unless they had exceptional resistance, spawning another banshee.
Storing it in my subspace would just debuff me like it did Edel. It was a hot potato—too risky to keep, too dangerous to ditch. Why the hell was something like this buried at Arsen anyway? In the original story, this was an item you encountered after entering Act 2. It shouldn't be in a player's hands yet.
Even following the main path would've been trouble.
In the original, there were two solutions. First, slam it into the ground, summon the evil spirit, and beat it down. Second, entrust it to the Holy Church for safe purification.
The first required someone with solid spiritual resistance. But "spiritual resistance" in this world was tricky. Not just evil spirits or ghosts—spirits were ethereal too. Unless you were someone with zero magic aptitude who couldn't even see spirits, you'd be affected to some degree. Finding that person was hard, and it felt like bare-knuckling it anyway. Better to consider it only after thorough prep.
The second wasn't viable yet since the Holy Church hadn't scouted Arsen.
No choice, then.
For now, I stashed the box in my subspace. I'd take the debuff—nothing better for the moment.
"SionIlleionhart, right?"
Just the voice alone set my nerves on edge. I thought a zombie was shambling over from afar, but it was just Exion Assistant.
"Out early, Assistant Professor."
"Ugh, the professors dragged me to their drinking party. We went all out. Whoa?!"
He staggered and nearly fell, so I grabbed his arm. But the arm felt surprisingly solid under my fingers. I'd thought he was just skin and bones.
"How much did you drink...? You should rest today."
"Got an important meeting."
"On a holiday?"
"Ah... they mostly show up on weekends. Some external consultants are visiting today because of that first-year dorm incident."
Wait, what? Suddenly?
"...External consultants?"
"Yeah. From the Holy Church. Perfect timing with the weekend—they're nearby and stopping by to check things out...... Ah, did I say too much?"
"No. Not at all."
Chatty villains could be useful sometimes. But the issue was that the Holy Church didn't get seriously involved until Act 2. It wasn't time for diplomatic ties with Arsen yet.
"Remember when the roof of Shanellia Hall collapsed? Because of the spirits."
"The cadets on the fourth floor were pretty upset. Complaints poured in from everywhere—'New semester just started, and this mess?'"
"So the Arsen brass invited some missionaries from Arpen to prevent repeats, or something like that......"
...Yeah, now it clicked. Unlike the original, the Shanellia Hall roof collapse had happened. The Holy Church was visiting early because the ghost riot caused actual damage. The roof caved because two cadets—I and Iri—were up on the steeple pulling aggro. That triggered a sudden event, ramping up Chapter 1's difficulty as spirits went berserk.
The sudden event hit because this world's difficulty was hellish, snowballing until it booted me back to the guest house. I'd expected some divergence—signs showed even back at the Esperand Mansion. But things were accelerating faster than anticipated.
Unlike the game's linear progression, reality layered multiple factors. Still, no need to worry too much. Things would right themselves eventually—all events return to the true path.
Look at Kyle: he overcomes every trial with sheer passion and will, triumphing over great evils. In short, "justice prevails in the end."
Anyway.
"Ah, what do I do? I can't make it on my own. Urk......"
"It's fine. I'll help you."
"Huh? Don't you have stuff to do? Everyone's busy recruiting team members these days."
"It's okay. Really."
What nuisance? If he was heading to the Holy Church, I'd tag along.
The Holy Church was one of the major factions in "Grimoire Tales." Its motifs drew from real-world religions: worship mainly on weekends, cardinals, and a pope as the true head.
"This way. You're good here."
The meeting was in a small conference room inside the faculty building. I planned to bow out gracefully—no reason or excuse to barge in.
As Exion reached for the door, the handle turned on its own.
"Ah, hello?"
"You're here early. Priestess Isabel."
I started to step back but leaned against the wall instead. Had to confirm if the visitors were who I thought.
Two people were already inside: a burly man and a slender girl my age in priestly robes. The priest duo I'd only seen on-screen.
"How was the trip, everyone?"
"Yes, thanks to you. Felt overly welcoming, honestly."
"Nonsense. It's the least for guests from afar."
As they chatted, I felt eyes on me. Side-glancing, the girl was staring.
"And this cadet...?"
"Ah, he helped me get here—I was wiped out."
"Sion Illeionhart."
"Priestess Isabel of the Holy Church."
She smiled brightly, but it didn't reach her eyes. She was openly wary, scanning me head to toe. No grounds to call her out, so I played dumb as a statue.
"Don't stand out there—come in and talk."
"Y-yes."
Even as the door closed, Isabel's gaze lingered on me.
......
The meeting lasted about 40 minutes. Best to deal with this evil spirit box ASAP, so I killed time nearby. Worried it might be a bust, but recalling her stare, she seemed to grasp my situation.
Exion and the burly priest left, and the door cracked open again. A cool voice slipped through.
"Um, Cadet?"
Far less warm than with Exion.
"If you're free, could we talk a bit?"
"Of course."
Perfect—I had business with her too.
The faculty building was one place cadets avoided. Being summoned meant a professor meeting, and sitting with them implied serious business. One-on-one with a prof was exhausting; add meals, and it was torture.
To cadets, it was forbidden territory. Loitering nearby often drew pointless scoldings—spit and they'd complain, sigh and you'd ruin the vibe.
Escorting Exion in made me lucky.
"Sion Illeionhart."
Her gentle smile vanished the moment the conference room door shut.
"What brings you here?"
"Something I need to ask of you, Priestess."
"You, asking me?"
Isabel's face was lamb-like, never seeming to anger. Yet she smiled softly, revealing displeasure.
The opposite of fondness.
"I'm a Holy Church priestess, even if I don't look it. You have business with me?"
"I'm here because you're the one who can handle it legally and properly."
"Legally... properly?"
She pinched her forehead suddenly, like a migraine hit, tilting her head up. Staring at the ceiling, she bit her lip—an unpriestly move.
"Spreading such impure energy, and now you talk law? You're not someone who belongs in the light."
My nerves spiked. My Sense thrummed hard.
Her back reflected on the whiteboard across the table, hand hidden behind gripping a flail.
"Be honest. Confess everything here, and I won't pry further."
The flail looked ready to swing. One wrong word, and my skull cracks.
She'd said I didn't belong in the light.
Nice trait effect.
Her overreaction stemmed from her Holy trait, specialized against impurities—similar to my Sense, but tuned for the profane. She'd sensed it instantly: I don't belong at Arsen.
I got it—similar traits and all. She wouldn't peg me as Esperand, but close enough. No faking it past her human lie detector.
So I'd give Isabel the answer she wanted.
"Yes. As you said, Priestess, I'm not Sion Illeionhart."
Like magnets, opposites connect—as in the original.
"I'm not Illeionhart. I'm Shion Esperand."
The Holy Church couldn't push out the Esperands.