Chapter 111
Chapter 111
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: There Are No Superhumans (2)
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This time, it was I who was at a loss for words.
Theodore had gone through exactly the same experience as me.
“You said you were heading off for your coming-of-age ceremony, so I tried recalling things around that time too. But nothing came to mind.”
“I see.”
“Damn it.”
A curse slipped out before I knew it.
I felt sorry for grilling him about who had hit him when he couldn’t remember anything.
“We should check on the others.”
“I doubt our case is common. I’ve seen plenty of cadets blabbing about what happened during their ceremonies.”
“So memory loss is selective?”
“Probably.”
It felt like the back of my head was throbbing as if I’d been struck.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed this sooner, yet at the same time, it seemed so obvious it was infuriating.
How does anyone even realize they’ve completely lost memories from a specific point in the past?
Besides, minor forgetfulness in daily life is so natural that no one would ever suspect something like this.
‘On top of that, I went and grilled a guy who’s confused about his faulty memories on who did it to him.’
He’d already been through something huge, and here I was, barging in and making his confusion worse.
I felt needlessly guilty.
“…Theodore, earlier I was a bit thoughtless—”
“No. I deliberately didn’t answer.”
“Oh… I see.”
But Theodore cut me off.
We were family, and the victim didn’t seem to want to make it public, so there wasn’t much else I could do for now.
It looked like opening up Theodore’s heart would take more time.
‘At least the ceremony’s done, so we’re in a position to become independent anytime.’
To calm my anger, I mentally outlined secret independence plans from Option A to C, even without Theodore’s knowledge as the subject.
When I’d imagined the most realistic one—“appoint Theodore as magical advisor for Cruise Merchant Company after enlisting”—Theodore spoke up.
“As for the pattern of memory loss, here’s my hypothesis.”
“A hypothesis? That’s not important right now. I’m thinking about how far to go with offers for your post-enlistment treatment.”
“…”
Thinking I was joking, Theodore continued anyway.
“No matter the exact reason, it seems people inside the island who need help can’t request aid from outside. And it’s not necessarily tied to the guardian angel.”
“What about dispatched priests? One came to treat my eyes.”
“Then… we should narrow it down further. More precisely, cadets in need can’t request help ‘directly.’”
“…”
I struggled to find a counterargument to Theodore’s conclusion.
At the same time, a devastating feeling washed over me, one I couldn’t put into words.
We—more precisely, I, Arma Cruise—had already indirectly experienced the crises facing Hazard Island cadets years ago. But I couldn’t remember what I’d thought back then or what I’d tried. I’d been consciously avoiding asking my family for help…
‘Did I… try to request rescue?’
The coming-of-age ceremony I couldn’t remember.
Back then, had I tried to confide in my mainland family or someone else about those grueling days I thought I’d endured quietly?
If so, how did the memory vanish?
It wasn’t like I’d suddenly become a different person just for that moment.
“Why does this happen? It’s like we’re isolated or something.”
These conversations always gave me a headache somehow.
Unresolved worries kept piling up.
To protect myself from the pain, I unconsciously shut down my thoughts.
“It’s more—complicated than I thought.”
“It’s not complicated.”
Theodore stated it flatly in the most inscrutable tone he’d used yet, like it was settled.
I turned to look at him.
For the first time, I saw the unique emptiness of someone without belonging, which I’d never read on his usually pristine face.
“We solve it ourselves.”
“Theodore—”
“Just like we’ve done until now.”
It was like a spell.
One directed at himself, and also one meant to pull me into his worldview.
“Just like until now?”
“What I can tell you is this: no one but those in a similar situation will help us sincerely.”
“…”
I couldn’t grasp what had made Theodore so solitary.
It probably wasn’t just one or two bad coincidences.
His life’s trajectory must be littered with concrete evidence that forged that conviction.
His certainty saddened me deeply, yet it also ignited anger.
What Theodore was doing was a form of self-harm, a thick defensive mechanism to avoid despairing over his lonely mindset and isolated position.
“Alright, got it.”
If I couldn’t show him tangible proof, I couldn’t convince him.
I wished I could someday tell him it wasn’t always like that, that things weren’t as bad as he thought.
“For now, we’re in a situation where we can’t get help from the mainland.”
I had to think.
Of a way for all of us to survive safely.
Then, Makina’s words suddenly came to mind.
‘Graduate as many problem children as possible…’
That was Makina’s answer.
And it felt flawless to me, without a shred of logical flaw.
“In that case, Makina getting held back from graduation might be a worse omen than I thought.”
Did Sir Reynolds truly not know about our bizarre predicament?
We were practically abandoned, and I’d even been deliberately excluded beyond that.
Of course, Makina Christy had played a part in it.
But what bothered me more was that Sir Reynolds, our adult supervisor here, was always absent from our discussions—more so than my peer Makina.
“Theodore. Keep this quiet for now.”
“Sharing it might be better. Unless there’s a special reason…”
“This shakes the academy’s foundations.”
I’d already closed the shut windows again and drawn the curtains.
The faint afternoon sunlight was blocked, plunging the room into perfect darkness.
“Think about it, Theodore. There are a thousand cadets here. Aegis cadets are elites, each one powerful enough to be called a small legion.”
“…”
“And when those elites leave the island, they forget what happened inside? Even if there’s a specific condition tied to our memory loss like you say, isn’t that weird?”
It was blatantly strange, no need to confirm with Theodore.
“The moment you and I show we’ve figured something out, I think our enemies won’t miss the chance.”
“A chance? What kind?”
“From the enemies’ perspective, a few flies have noticed too much. But if those flies can’t leave the island? What would you do?”
Even in the darkness, I could see Theodore’s ash-gray eyes gleaming sharply.
In this moment of crisis, a strange passion was blooming in him.
Yet Theodore intended to confront the unknown anyway.
‘This guy’s really dangerous too.’
Facing danger head-on instead of fleeing is one way to survive.
But charging into a danger you could easily avoid?
Theodore, with his deficient self-preservation instinct, was risky.
“I’m saying we’re in danger right now. Got it?”
“…”
Even without Theodore voicing his thoughts, the answer was obvious.
Hazard Island’s waters were shallow, making it easy to spot approaching ships, and it was quite far from the mainland.
Even on the fastest ship available on the island, it took over half a day. So cadets rarely left on their own unless it was urgent—but including all exceptions, we were rats in a trap.
“Understood.”
Theodore finally replied after a long pause.
Having uncovered a secret that shook the academy’s core, we’d become problem black sheep.
Troublemakers stirring unease and discord among the white sheep.
I couldn’t give the other three—already bearing too many risks because of me—more “excuses” to target them.
‘At the very least, we need to solve the memory issue.’
Theodore had gone to the mainland to unravel the guardian angel mystery.
But he’d returned to Hazard Island without any solutions, and even those memories were intact.
In other words, we had to fight now without support from family or outsiders—our most reliable backup.
“I don’t want to start a fight from a disadvantage. Not unless we’re handed a weapon to fight back with.”
The situation wasn’t as simple as I’d thought.
We had one more thing to consider as an enemy.
I felt proper nouns like “Ebon,” “campus rebellion,” “holy war” lining up in context.
“Phew…”
“Arma Cruise?”
Was the future campus rebellion related to what we’d learned today?
Was I just naturally following the predetermined path to total annihilation?
If not, what rebellion was it from?
“Arma Cruise!”
Theodore, who’d been doll-like and quiet moments ago, suddenly grabbed and shook me.
Startled by the strength belying his build, I quickly noticed something sticky dripping from my nose.
“Uh, nosebleed.”
I almost made a silly joke like, “Was that you?” but Theodore’s face was grave.
Unable to beat that serious expression, I skipped the joke and grabbed a handkerchief from the side console to plug my nose.
“Why all of a sudden? I got plenty of sleep.”
“Does this happen often?”
“No, it doesn’t. At least, this is the first time I’ve had a nosebleed without doing anything.”
My voice came out nasal from the plug, but I forced a plucky tone to avoid worrying him.
Unfortunately, Theodore didn’t fall for my lame act.
“If a new symptom appears out of nowhere, we need to find the cause.”
“Fine, I’ll look into it. No need to get worked up. It doesn’t even hurt, and the bleeding’s almost stopped.”
I removed the handkerchief to check, but the flow seemed done.
I massaged the bridge of my nose and excused myself to the washroom.
* * *
The water ran as I wiped away the bloody mess, sending pink rivulets down the drain.
Thoughts of the holy war and weapons I hadn’t fully processed lingered, etched into my mind.