The Mad Dog of This Territory (2)
Thud-!
Thump.
The second-year boy, Juan Something-or-Other, took a punch square on the jaw, his knees buckled, and he went sprawling onto the floor.
“…Huh.”
Oh. Had I hit him too hard?
I’d only meant to hold back a little, but his jaw had been hanging there so defenselessly that before I knew it, I’d gone for it. Instinct had taken over and driven straight for the weakest point.
The fist had landed cleanly under his chin, but he was a second-year—and a swordsman who’d trained his body besides. He shouldn’t have been knocked out.
Not knowing when he might spring up and retaliate, I settled into a guarded stance, resting my hand on my scabbard and waiting for Juan Something-or-Other’s next move.
One second, two seconds, three. Ten seconds passed, and still he didn’t twitch.
“Excuse me, senior.”
“…….”
“Hello? Senior?”
“C-Cain…! Wait, did you kill him?!”
Lia, who had been quietly studying Juan Something-or-Other’s face, let out a shriek and slapped at my shoulder in alarm.
No, surely he couldn’t have died from one punch. Still, because you never knew what could happen to a person, I crouched down in front of him and smacked his cheek a few times while calling out to him.
“Senior, can you hear me? If you can, please raise your right hand.”
“…….”
Smack, smack—!
The sound of slaps rang out briskly enough, but Juan Something-or-Other still gave no response.
For a moment I truly thought I’d killed him, and I nearly panicked. Then I pressed my finger beneath his nose, and after a faint breath in and out, I finally relaxed. Thank goodness—he hadn’t gone off to travel at Pluton’s side after all.
“He’s alive, right…?”
“Yes, he’s alive. I think he just fainted for a bit.”
“Ah, really? Whew, that’s a relief….”
Lia exhaled in a long, relieved sigh and patted her chest.
“Did you grow worried about him?”
“No, that’s not it. If he’d really died, it would’ve been a pain for you, Cain. I didn’t want that.”
“Ah.”
I’d been looking at Juan Something-or-Other stretched out in a daze, thinking our Lia really had a kind heart. But apparently that wasn’t it.
I was a little taken aback by the answer, but only for a moment. Lowering my gaze, I began slapping his cheeks left and right.
If he wasn’t dead, only unconscious, then he’d respond to outside stimulation sooner or later.
To hasten that moment, I kept ringing out “Senior, senior?” with merciless slaps. My sincerity must have gotten through, because Juan Something-or-Other’s tightly shut eyes suddenly flew open.
“……Haaah!”
As if he’d been suffering a nightmare in the space of a few seconds, he sat bolt upright, drenched in cold sweat. Then, the instant he noticed me, he recoiled with a gasp so sharp it was nearly a scream, scooting backward on his ass.
I stood, walked closer to him, and crouched again so we were eye to eye.
“You’ve finally come to your senses, senior.”
“Y-you! What, what the hell are you…?!”
Probably because I’d slapped him so much, Juan Something-or-Other—whose cheeks were red as if he’d just met his fated lover—jabbed a finger at me.
A noble shouldn’t point at another person’s face like that; it was bad manners. But since he’d just woken from being unconscious, I generously let that little rudeness slide.
“Ah, did I not introduce myself? I’m Cain Reinhardt, an officer with the student council, and this is Lia von Elleves, also an officer with the student council.”
After the introduction, I offered him my right hand as a sign that we ought to get along. But Juan Something-or-Other didn’t take it; he only stared at my palm with trembling eyes.
“W-what do you want? Money? Supplies?”
“Well, if I had to put it in simple terms, both…. Ah, but first.”
Tap, tap. I knocked my index finger against my jaw.
“You haven’t forgotten the wager you made with me on the duel’s outcome, have you? We had it arranged with the reward being that the winner could do whatever they pleased with the loser.”
“Y-you’re threatening me?”
“No, this isn’t a threat. But if you refuse to accept the duel’s outcome….”
I let the sentence trail off and looked down at him.
Juan Something-or-Other, meeting my eyes, must have imagined what came next on his own, because he swallowed hard, his face stiffening.
“F-fine. I’ll accept it, I’ll accept it. Take whatever you want.”
As expected of a noble—cleanly accepting the result of a duel was a fine thing to see.
With his consent secured, I rose and began the real work. What Lia and I needed, as I’d already said, was the paperwork related to last year’s budget for the swordsmanship club, ARMA.
“Senior, where do you keep last year’s budget documents?”
“Ah, that. Um, where was it…?”
“……Senior.”
This man kept making the mistake of trying to be clever in the most half-baked way imaginable.
I patted his shoulder to make it clear that one more round of this uncooperative nonsense would not be fun. Juan Something-or-Other flinched hard, then trembled all over and hurriedly brought over a stack of papers in a yellow file.
“H-here it is. No, it’s here….”
“Thank you. Lia, can you check it?”
“Yep, got it. Hold on.”
Lia tucked her hair behind her ear and began combing through the documents with care.
Page one, page two, page three. With every page she turned, she let out a murmur of admiration—or a long, drawn-out groan. I grew mildly curious why she was reacting like that, so I stepped closer and asked her.
“Is there a problem?”
“Problem…. There are a lot of them. A whole lot. Want to take a look?”
Lia pointed at a specific section with her finger. When I looked, I found that they had purchased all sorts of luxury goods with the club’s budget and recorded them as “general expenses incurred during club activities.”
In other words, they’d spent the club’s budget personally and dressed it up as if it were ordinary costs from club work.
And the amount was far too large to brush off. By a rough count, they’d spent around 200 pounds on luxuries, and if you figured it at 800,000 won per pound, this man had embezzled almost 160 million won.
“That’s not all—there’s more on the next pages too. Apparently they went to some place called Club Death Size or whatever, put it down as a company dinner, and spent 100 pounds in a single night.”
“Good heavens, 100 pounds….”
I tilted my head and looked at Juan Something-or-Other.
“A minor spending 100 pounds at a club? You really know how to enjoy yourself, senior.”
“……Y-you’re a freshman, so maybe you don’t know how things work yet. This is all within the range of what people overlook as routine practice. And if you’re going to make an issue of it, shouldn’t the first person punished be the student council officer who saw this budget and approved it?”
“Yes, that would be true. But before that, shouldn’t we address the real issue first?”
I took the documents back from Lia and, one by one, showed him the problematic entries.
“……As such, we have uncovered multiple instances of imperial funds allocated for the students of Bern Academy being used for personal luxury purchases. Therefore, in accordance with Article 23, Clause 7 of the school regulations, the student council will demand that the person responsible for ARMA return 50 percent of last year’s total budget.”
“W-wait a second! Fifty percent of last year’s budget would be more than 800 pounds!”
“Really, is that so surprising? After the way you’ve spent it, I’d say 50 percent is a bargain.”
“You, you can’t possibly expect someone to have that much money! This is tyranny, tyranny!”
“Mm, no money, then….”
Well, I had more or less expected this answer. Even in the modern world, financial criminals almost never actually returned the money they’d stolen.
Clack, I neatly gathered the stack of papers. Then I gave Lia a glance before looking back at Juan Something-or-Other.
“In that case, there’s no helping it.”
“Y-you’re letting us off?”
“No, that’s not it.”
I reached into my chest and pulled out something, offering it to Lia.
That “something” was none other than the sort of thing that would no doubt trigger PTSD in some people.
“If you don’t have the cash to return it, then I’ll confiscate club ARMA’s supplies to the equivalent value of 800 pounds.”
A red seizure notice—the kind that would definitely bring back unpleasant memories for somebody.
“W-what? Confiscate? You’re going to confiscate the equipment in our club room?!”
“Yes, I didn’t want to do this either. But if you don’t have the cash to return it, what else can we do? We have no choice but to take the supplies instead. …Lia?”
“Okay, got it.”
Nodding, Lia swept her eyes around the room and began sticking red notices all over whatever supplies looked expensive at a glance.
Tables, chairs, ornaments, the supply closet. Everywhere she looked, red notices went up, and Juan Something-or-Other’s face turned white.
Looking him in the face, I said calmly, “If you’d like the seizure lifted, bring 800 pounds to the student council office before the confiscated items are liquidated. But since we’re not there twenty-four hours a day, it would be better if you came around lunchtime or after class….”
“……Y-you think you can get away with this?!”
Juan Something-or-Other, pale as death, pointed at me.
“How dare you, how dare you…! You put a red seizure notice on our ARMA club room?! You’ve just made the entire club your enemy! So maybe I can’t say anything, but the third-year seniors will never sit still for this…!”
“Senior.”
I cut him off and looked at him quietly.
Juan Something-or-Other, who had been shouting with such bravado, flinched when he met my eyes.
“Wh-what? You going to hit me again now? It won’t matter. I’m the weakest in ARMA anyway! The real power is with the third-year seniors, so no matter how much you humiliate me….”
“This office is always open to complaints and objections regarding the seizure.”
“Wh-what?”
“So if you don’t accept the seizure order, or if you have any complaints at all.”
I pointed to myself.
“The person in charge, or the acting person in charge, can come find me and request a duel, with the seizure lifted and the club’s very existence on the line. Ah, but from the second time onward, I won’t go easy on you. I’m carving out my spare time to do this, after all.”
When I finished, I gave him a wink and blinked my right eye.
“Th-that lunatic…!”
Juan Something-or-Other’s face drained white.
* * *
“Lady Lia.”
“Yeah, Cain.”
“Something was a little suspicious, wasn’t it?”
Though I hadn’t stated what, we understood each other. Lia realized I was asking about the connection between the cult and the swordsmanship club ARMA, and slowly nodded.
“……Club Death Size, right?”
“Yes. If you think about it rationally, spending 100 pounds on drinks in a single night doesn’t make sense.”
“I think so too. That money definitely flowed somewhere else under the pretense of alcohol.”
“Drugs, maybe?”
I was asking about the money-laundering route.
Lia seemed to think it over for a moment before letting out a hesitant hum.
“Maybe. There’s a pretty high chance of that, I think….”
“Since we can’t be certain, we’ll need to investigate further.”
“Mmhm, let’s do that. But before that, shouldn’t we write up the report and take it to the president?”
“Yes, that’s probably best. Let’s work on it together, take it over quickly, and then look into things a little more. After that, let’s stop by this Club Death Size place.”
“Okay. But I’ve never been to a club before—wouldn’t I look really awkward if I went?”
“I’ve never been either, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’re beautiful, Lia, so if anything, you should be worrying about drawing attention.”
“……Hmph!”
Lia made the pleased little sound she always did when she was in a good mood, then held out her right hand toward me in a little flourish. She meant for me to escort her.
I smirked and took her hand lightly.
“Come to think of it, haven’t we not yet finished today’s hour allotment?”
“Mm…. Probably not.”
“Even better, then. Come on, let’s go.”
* * *
Maybe proper young ladies and gentlemen wouldn’t know this, but just beyond the grounds of Bern Academy, on the outskirts of the city, there was a rather sordid district.
It lay beneath the reach of the Empire’s eyes and ears, deep under the ground where even sunlight turned its face away, in a damp subterranean world that remained dark all year round.
This place, where incidents and accidents happened almost daily and blood and flesh of unknown ownership stained the ground, was none other than Under Club.
In public it was called Club Death Size, but on certain days an illegal fighting arena would suddenly open there, transforming it into Under Club—a breeding ground for crime where drug offenders, wanted criminals, and homeless drifters gathered little by little in secret.
“Hoo….”
Grace, a woman with gray hair and a gloomy air about her, let out a long sigh.
She was sitting at the liquor bar, sipping whiskey, and if she was sighing so darkly today, it was because she’d suddenly found her situation pitiful.
That goddamn brat….
Cain Reinhardt had forced her into a Mana Oath, compelled her to steal internal information from the cult she was supposed to serve, and even shut down her life’s dream and deepest ambition: the study of dark magic.
“……Seriously.”
Just thinking about it made heat rise sharply in her head.
Why, of all things, had that goddamn brat from the Reinhardt family become the bodyguard of the Elleves family? And why had the Elleves family’s legitimate daughter been afflicted with the Curse of Misfortune?
The odds of those absurd coincidences overlapping were, mathematically speaking, almost impossible. At this point, wasn’t it as if the god who governed fate were deliberately testing her?
Bang!
Grace, thinking that with utter sincerity, slammed down her glass in irritation.
“Do you have some worry on your mind, sister?”
Decart, the bartender at Under Club and a demonic human, asked while polishing a glass. Grace didn’t even glance his way; she merely crooked one finger at him.
“Shut up and bring me another drink.”
“It’s been almost seven years since I’ve seen you, and your temper is still the same.”
“……Don’t even mention the number seven in front of me.”
It had been exactly seven years this year since her future had been mortgaged to that brat from the Reinhardt family.
For Grace, who counted every one of them, the number seven could hardly have been more abhorrent.
“Yes, understood. What would you like me to bring you?”
“The usual.”
“Louis-san whiskey, then.”
Decart set a bottle of whiskey down in front of Grace.
“But, sister, have you heard the rumor?”
“Rumor? What rumor?”
“There’s been talk for the past three months or so. Someone’s been digging into the cult very intensively.”
“Someone? Who is it?”
“I don’t know the details either, but apparently it’s a member of a prestigious noble family. That’s how the rumor’s been spreading.”
“A prestigious noble family…?”
Someone’s image flashed through Grace’s mind.
Jet-black hair, large red eyes. Broad shoulders.
A crooked smile that looked alluring to others, but to her felt only frightening.
……No, it couldn’t be, right?
“Do you have any idea who it might be?”
“No, I don’t.”
She had a rough guess, but she didn’t say it. Or rather, she couldn’t say it.
Because of the Mana Oath, Grace was unable to say a single word about Cain, Lia, or anyone around them.
“Hmm, is that so? Understood. Still, whenever you do happen to think of someone, please let me know.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“What else? Tear them to pieces, of course.”
“Puh….”
Grace snorted, utterly dumbfounded, and Decart’s brows twitched violently.
“Sister, why are you laughing?”
“Oh, come off it. You couldn’t beat them.”
“……So you do have someone in mind?”
Thud, thud.
Footsteps came down from above. One pair was heavy, the other light—most likely a man and a woman.
Neither confirming nor denying it, Grace silently sipped her whiskey. Then she shifted her gaze toward the two new visitors whose forms were just beginning to show at the edge of the entrance.
“Oh, Grace?”
“……Pffft!”
She promptly spat out every drop of whiskey she’d been holding in her mouth.
***