Chapter 110
Chapter 110
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 110
Chapter Title: There Are No Superhumans (1)
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‘If there’s no one who’ll come here after learning the situation first...’
Then why not just call someone?
I thought back to the priest dispatched from the mainland just two months ago to treat my eyes.
Of course, it would be best if Theodore could bring back someone capable of helping us as originally planned, but no one knew better than I how much of a pipe dream that was.
‘Sir Reynolds is out. Like Machina said, he doesn’t care much about the cadets’ lives.’
Aegis Academy was an elite institution where virtually all the promising talents of the Holy Kingdom of Aegis gathered.
But what had been Sir Reynolds’s cold attitude?
He’d always kept a step back from the cadets, adopting the stance of a detached observer. I’d thought it was because he couldn’t stand up to someone as charismatic as Machina.
But I realized there was another reason for that attitude on the day Sir Reynolds had decided Machina’s punishment.
-Hah, right. In a way, that might be the biggest problem. Machina Christie. You know attempting to attack a fellow cadet warrants severe discipline, don’t you?
Even though I didn’t want it, Sir Reynolds had been eager to punish Machina—and in the end, he got his way. A suspension, no less. It was sure to be a massive stain on the brilliant, glorious path ahead of her.
-Thud.
My head throbbed.
I put the diary back in the drawer and headed to the washroom.
I filled the sink with water and dunked my head in. My pulse thumped loudly in my ears.
‘If there’s no one to help, then call someone...’
Irrational thinking and unfounded conviction dominated my mind.
I knew this gloomy, extreme mindset was influenced by it.
I vowed not to give in to the impulses that sometimes crashed over me.
Sleep hadn’t solved my problems at all, but it had restored enough vitality to keep me from crumbling helplessly in this miserable struggle.
***
Three days later.
On a night when preparations for the Full Moon Festival were in full swing, Theodore returned.
For some reason, his entire body was covered in wounds, and he’d apparently been trying to hide it, holing up silently in his dorm for two days straight.
I only learned he was back because Arthur suddenly showed up in the middle of the night and tipped me off.
-Theodore’s locked himself in his room and won’t come out. He seems to listen to you, Senior Cruise, so could you check on him?
-He doesn’t really listen to me either... When did he get back?
-Two days ago.
Theodore’s silent return was odd enough, but the fact that he wouldn’t even come out for Arthur suggested something serious.
At any rate, it meant things hadn’t gone well.
The moment I heard, I headed straight to the Thorn Crown House dorm, sent Arthur away first, and kept knocking until Theodore opened the door.
“......”
“You...... okay?”
Honestly, I’d braced for a half-day siege, but he opened up after just ten minutes of knocking, which relieved me.
Otherwise, I’d planned to scale the wall and climb in through the window.
The problem was something else stole that relief away.
“Theodore.”
“......”
Theodore looked a mess when he finally appeared.
Only his neatly combed-down hair was as tidy as ever; everything else was a disaster.
The bloodstained shirt in patches and the bruised neck were still somewhat salvageable.
The real issue was the side with the eyepatch.
Unlike usual, his front bangs partially covered half his face, where dried bloodstains lingered.
“What the hell happened?”
At my prodding, Theodore just rolled his eyes without changing expression.
He didn’t push me away or anything, so I brushed aside his deliberately lowered bangs to check underneath.
He didn’t stop me, but he didn’t exactly welcome it either.
“Blade do this?”
“......”
“Instead of bringing help, you’ve just added another person who needs it.”
I rummaged through Theodore’s room and found the standard-issue first-aid kit.
I didn’t want to snoop in someone else’s space, but the owner wasn’t cooperating, so no choice.
“Come here.”
Theodore just stared blankly without responding.
Seemed like a new test of patience, but sorry, I had plenty.
I dragged him over forcibly and sat him on the edge of the bed, then checked the worst-looking visible spot first: his eyelid.
“Got a spare eyepatch? This one’s trash. Why didn’t you stop the bleeding?”
The wound was gruesome.
Three thin, sharp blade marks ran vertically across his eyelid and artificial eye.
“This a fork? Who did it?”
“......”
“Yeah, keep not answering. I’ll guess. Did a fork just fall from the sky? Close your eye.”
The neglected eyelid had shrunken with the sunken gash still raw.
Whether his prosthetic delayed the reaction or he just had no will to defend, anyone leaving such a long, deep mark on a face with a mere fork was no joke.
“Brutal, brutal. At least treat it. Gonna scar bad, tsk.”
I clicked my tongue involuntarily while disinfecting the eyelid, and Theodore glared as if protesting.
“Tch. Won’t close it?”
The eyeball wasn’t his flesh, so he didn’t care, but if the antiseptic hit the membrane, he’d be the one hurting.
I practically bullied him into letting me treat the eyelid, then wrapped it with bandages instead of the eyepatch to cover the wound.
Even days-old wounds stung like hell with exposed flesh, but he didn’t so much as groan—classic Theodore.
“Thought you went for your coming-of-age rite. Looks like you caught someone instead. If you’re this beat up, your opponent’s probably at Aegis’s side by now?”
“......”
“If that was dark humor about your parents, sorry.”
It hit me late that one word from him might’ve sent someone’s parents to Aegis’s side.
But parents who’d do this to their kid? Some leeway there, maybe.
As I thought that, Theodore grabbed my arm when I went to check his other wounds.
“What? Ready to talk properly now?”
“What about the letter?”
“Roll up your right sleeve, and I’ll tell you.”
Eager for an answer, he obediently offered his right sleeve. I pushed up the white shirt fabric and checked inside.
A boot heel mark bruised deep enough to leave its shape.
‘No defensive traces at all.’
Even a mage with top self-control would instinctively cast magic after a hit like that.
Complex spell circles might be too much, but basic strikes or shields? Definitely.
I pulled his sleeve back down and answered.
“Burned the letter. Sherry said not to touch the water bowl, so it’s still there.”
“Show me.”
“Nope.”
Theodore kept pulling weird stunts, maybe to dodge the situation.
He’d stand abruptly or yank his arm free, leaving me wondering if I was dealing with Theodore or Cookie.
“You under some restriction too, huh?”
“......”
“Not answering is as good as yes. You’re really taking the long way around.”
But even as I said it, I got where he was coming from, so instead of pushing, I focused silently on treating him.
‘Arthur too, Theodore too. Guys with power that needs no explanation, and they end up like this...’
Guess weapons were forks after all.
Most wounds were shallow scratches compared to the eye’s near-fatal gash, but plenty deep enough not to ignore.
Arthur, bound not to harm non-mages, and Theodore, beaten senseless without a single defense.
I didn’t know the Usher or White House dirt, but both families clearly controlled their sons through violence.
“If you want, I’ll be your witness.”
“......”
After treating the concentrated upper-body wounds—right eye, left neck, right arm—Theodore silently stood.
Didn’t want to continue the topic.
I returned the first-aid kit and grabbed his coat from the rack.
“When was the letter burned?”
“Two days ago, around nine.”
“When I arrived home, then. Figures...”
“Figures?”
“......”
Theodore clammed up again out of nowhere.
Unlike our usual synced pace, he walked a step ahead.
Couldn’t read his face, but his white breath shattered clearly with each exhale.
We walked another thirty minutes back to my lodging.
“Here.”
I pulled the water bowl from the desk, positioning it for Theodore to see clearly.
Even with the water sloshing, the ashes inside held a near-perfect rectangular shape.
Theodore stared intently.
Standing a step back, I silently watched his pitiful back—bandages instead of eyepatch.
After a short silence, he finally turned, meeting my eyes.
“Not good news.”
“...Yeah? What is it?”
Theodore dipped a finger into the bowl.
The ashes gathered toward it, then sucked in like magic.
Seemed like investigating with magic... As a wooden cross class, I’d never taken advanced magic courses, so I couldn’t guess the process.
“Once you leave Hazard Island, memories related to this place seem to fade.”
“Yeah... what?”
He repeated his words verbatim, not missing a syllable.
I’d heard him fine.
Just couldn’t comprehend it.
“The magic circle I engraved on the letter is identical to the one on Arma Cruise’s chest: [Remember Absolutely]. Two things to remember.”
Back home, investigate guardian angels; find help.
Fail either, and the spell fails.
“...So that means...”
“Forgot about the [Guardian Angel] leaving the island; remembered it coming back.”
“......”
“Also, not just here—memories of the rite outside are incomplete too. My guess: outside’s influenced by inside.”
Theodore wiped his wet hand on his clothes.
The now-empty bowl gleamed hollowly.
How should we accept that our memories are incomplete?