Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Only the Corpse Knows (1)
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I’m experiencing what it truly means to be utterly exhausted, body and soul.
It’s been a long time since my condition hit rock bottom like this—not since my childhood days, when I barely survived near-death experiences every four days.
Ignoring my body’s screaming instinct to collapse and sleep right then and there, I turned my back on Makina and left the Student Council room.
Immediately, the student assigned to watch me—a long-haired one whose bangs hid their face—hurried after me.
If my memory served right, that was Enoch Clark from Thorn Crown Class.
“Two days from now… huh.”
Makina had given me just a two-day grace period.
Was it mere coincidence that it lined up with the four days Shirley had told me to endure without sleeping?
I glanced at the restraints dangling loosely from my wrists—now stripped of their binding power—then pulled down my shirt sleeve to cover them.
“Where am I supposed to find a corpse?”
Maybe I’d made a choice that would slowly lead to my own downfall.
Even so, now that things had come to this, I intended to see it through to the end.
My childhood had been a gasping struggle day by day, surviving against all odds.
Even in moments when I wanted to give up everything, that damned “against all odds” had held my ankle fast.
From that day on, everything had been “against all odds.”
And what was about to happen now was just another unexpected twist.
I quickened my pace toward the third floor of Wooden Cross House’s dormitory wing.
“What a mess.”
After all my ordeals, my room looked like a typhoon had ripped through it.
Even as I stared at the chaos, I couldn’t bring myself to step inside and could only sigh—because the door hung wide open, crisscrossed with red ropes signaling restricted access.
“No entry.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
Enoch Clark, who’d been monitoring me, cleared his throat awkwardly.
His bangs were so long I couldn’t see his expression, but he didn’t seem like the authoritative type.
At least it was a relief that no other students were wandering around, since lectures at the Academy had already started.
Hiding nothing of my dejected expression, I tapped my foot on the floor, pondering what to do next.
“Senior!”
As I stood there lost in thought, sighing, a welcome voice rang out.
It hadn’t even been a full day since that nightmare, but running into Shirley again felt genuinely heartening.
That said, there was something I needed to check first.
“Shirley, excluding today, when was the last time we saw each other?”
“Out of the blue? If we’re excluding today, it was during theology class.”
“Just as I thought.”
After days of my sense of reality being out of whack, I’d needed to confirm that.
Shirley tilted her head as if she were used to my weird questions.
This confirmed that the “Shirley” who’d come to warn me had no connection to the one standing before me.
“Shirley doesn’t seem any different, though.”
The day after I’d shot Theodore with a gun in my dream, he’d shown up wearing an eyepatch over the spot my bullet had pierced.
And that same day, I’d passed out and dreamed again—this time shooting Judith in the hand—and the next day, Judith appeared missing her index finger.
“No, maybe it is weird.”
If the structure was that losses in dreams reflected in reality, then Arthur Usher—pierced through the heart by me—couldn’t possibly be alive right now.
Unless he was pretending to be human without a beating heart, but a swordsman training to be a Swordmaster without a heartbeat would be a whole other disaster.
“What’s that?”
“Oh.”
While I’d unconsciously scanned Shirley for injuries, I noticed the bundle tucked under her arm.
Beaming with pride, she held it out to me.
I took it, glancing at Enoch Clark—thankfully, he didn’t try to stop me.
“It’s your spare clothes from the shooting range, Senior. I heard you got covered in blood… Oops.”
Shirley had gone straight to President Makina ahead of me.
Of course yesterday’s events had reached her ears too.
“Word sure travels fast.”
“Right? That part’s suspicious too, but… anyway, at least you look human now. You’re always so picky about that stuff, Senior.”
Unwrapping the bundle revealed not just spare clothes but survival gear neatly bundled with string—simple toiletries, writing tools, and rations—like something a pro traveler would pack.
“…Am I going on a trip or something?”
“No, I didn’t know how to explain it. I don’t buy that nonsense, but… I figured you might have to leave in a hurry.”
Shirley had apparently prepared this in case I came to her after deciding to flee the Academy.
“You might suddenly want to cross the ocean. You haven’t even gone home since last year, so—”
“…Hahaha!”
Shirley’s eyes widened as she trailed off with uncharacteristic uncertainty.
“What’s so funny? Seriously. People say you’re so carefree.”
I teased her about the survival bundle, but calmed her as she tried to snatch it back and took it from her hands.
I’d poked fun at her for packing it, but thanks to Shirley, I could at least keep up appearances if I had to camp out.
Fortunately, her alibi from last night must’ve checked out—there were no Student Council members tailing her.
I slipped my arm through the ropes blocking the door, retrieving a belt with a fixed buckle from atop the display shelf and a leather strap for binding books, then dangled them in front of Enoch Clark.
He didn’t stop me this time either.
“The investigation’s probably already wrapped up.”
With Shirley’s permission, I turned away, stripped off Arthur’s slightly oversized shirt that had been bothering me, changed into my shooting uniform, and strapped the leather cord to her bundle to make a backpack.
Thank goodness she’d included one with suspenders.
I’d have to keep moving nonstop from here on out.
“Shirley. Mind helping me out a bit?”
***
“You have to find a corpse?”
Shirley glared at the innocent Enoch Clark trailing ten meters behind us as she followed me to the chapel.
I’d tried several times to convince her to just go to class, but she was stubborn as ever.
“Ridiculous. Tell Enoch Clark back there to find it.”
At her words, Enoch glanced our way before looking off again.
Apparently, the two knew each other.
Pouting at Enoch’s non-reaction, Shirley shook out her long ponytail and strode ahead confidently.
“There was nothing left at the scene anyway.”
“You already checked it out?”
“In the morning, after hearing the rumors about you, Senior. You’d have done the same.”
I couldn’t laugh or cry at Shirley’s words.
Somehow, I managed to stir up trouble like this about once a year.
Last year, it was a scandal that rocked the Academy’s social scene.
This year, a murder rumor shaking its law enforcement circles.
The key difference: unlike last year’s mere fiasco, this time someone had actually died.
‘Kyle Ace, was it? A history major from Silver Chalice Class, one year below me…’
My impression of him was fuzzy, but I recalled he’d been the diligent model student type.
No matter how any individual acted, though, a murder at the Academy—supposedly the safest place—was utterly absurd.
“We’ll definitely catch the culprit.”
I had no idea why they’d dragged me into this murder, or why these suspicious events and bizarre experiences were piling up simultaneously.
The three of us—including Enoch Clark following at a distance—arrived at the chapel, the crime scene.
Aside from the red restricted-access tape hinting at the murder and a few Student Council members guarding the entrance, it was deserted.
The chapel’s exterior, favoring straight lines over curves, looked so serene and quiet it was hard to believe a murder had happened there.
“Let’s head in. Cadet Enoch Clark, you good with that?”
“The investigation’s done, so I doubt we’ll find anything new.”
“Makina ordered me to find a corpse, so we’ve gotta try something.”
“…Understood.”
Leaving Enoch’s reluctant expression behind, I approached the chapel.
The two Student Council members guarding us took turns crossing arms to untie the tape blocking the entrance.
Shirley and I slipped on the disposable gloves Enoch had given us while waiting for the sealed door to open.
‘Dropping Makina’s name gets me through quick.’
My freedom as a suspect was probably thanks to orders from her already going out.
Recalling Makina’s inscrutable smile, I stepped inside.
“There’s still a blood smell.”
Shirley’s relaxed expression hardened into a serious one as she marched straight toward the altar.
“Man, there’s really nothing to see, huh?”
“Yeah.”
The evidence had already been collected, so the blood-soaked altar was spotless.
The taboo against using magic was obvious from the manual cleanup marks.
With solid wood as the main material, this altar would never fully return to its pre-incident state.
‘They probably recorded it with a recording crystal or something, but I doubt they’ll share that evidence with me.’
I pulled writing tools from the bundle slung over my back like a bag and roughly sketched the scene.
Shirley crouched low, peering at the floor for any remaining footprints.
“I was the first to arrive at the scene… as expected.”
“How do you know?”
Shirley, who’d been flat on the ground, brushed off her pants and came over.
I showed her my sketch—drawn for easy understanding—and slowly pointed from the altar’s edge to its center.
The altar’s rim was dotted with yellow wax drippings from countless ritual candles, and faint bloodstains lingered amid them where they hadn’t been fully cleaned.
But that wasn’t what I wanted to show.
“Blood splatters only on the altar’s corners. The wax makes it hard to see, but the dark stains soaking into the wood should stand out.”
“Oh…?”
Shirley, who’d bent down to inspect, clapped her hands.
“Blood sprayed over where you were lying on the altar.”
We locked eyes.
This proved at least one person—probably me—had been lying on this altar while someone died.
“Should I fetch Makina Christie?”
“No, there’s more to check. And this alone won’t clear my name.”
“Huh? Why not?”
If I were interrogating a suspect in the same situation, I’d assume a struggle on the altar and build the case from there.
It wasn’t strong evidence on its own, but…
‘If I steer the story that way, it might work out better than expected.’
Still, I didn’t want to say it myself in a situation where enemies might be lurking.
Shirley nodded like she got it, then glared at innocent Enoch Clark again.
“You’re doing great.”
Even I, being human, didn’t have warm feelings toward Enoch Clark doggedly tailing me.
I fondly watched Shirley exact small, petty revenge on my behalf, then stowed my writing tools.
Running my fingers along the altar’s width, I began imagining the timeline in my head.
Me collapsed on the altar. The struggle starting with the bloodstain’s owner arriving late. And Arthur Usher entering the chapel right after the incident.