Chapter 42
Chapter 42
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Suspicious Traces (1)
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I had spent the entire night muttering that mysterious phrase about not wanting to fall into depravity, barely sleeping a wink.
They say it's best to nip insomnia in the bud early on. Maybe it was time to see a counselor.
Whenever I closed my eyes, the scenery from that day, the memory of shooting that person, and Arthur's delirious rant in the chapel calling me the "Apostle of Betrayal" all jumbled together chaotically.
“……”
In the end, I rubbed my gritty eyelids, which felt like they were full of sand, and got out of bed. It was still the wee hours of dawn, with a blue tint lingering in the sky.
Dylan probably wouldn't be in the clubroom at this hour, right?
Determined to do something, I decided to preview the first-period class: Advanced Magical Mechanics Theory.
-Clang, clang.
But time has a funny way of slipping by. Once I had something to focus on, dawn flew past in an instant, turning into morning.
Four hours had vanished before I knew it.
I snapped to attention at the sound of the preparatory bell.
I shoved my study materials straight into my bag as they were and headed to the lecture hall.
“…And so, magic is ultimately like a science with many steps omitted.”
The professor for Magical Mechanics Theory was Sir Travers Norfolk, the youngest among the faculty and a nervous-looking man in his thirties.
Sir Norfolk had tousled gray hair and a perpetually furrowed brow, giving him an appearance that fell just short of handsome.
His mission was to teach cadets like me, who had no aptitude for magic, how magic actually worked.
“Do you understand, Cadet Arma Cruise? Was my explanation sufficient?”
“Yes, I understand.”
Seemingly satisfied with my response, the likely neurasthenic Sir Norfolk nodded and fixed his gaze back on his book.
Cadets like me, who had scored low on the magical aptitude evaluation, used this chance to yawn or stare out the window.
*‘It makes theoretical sense, but it still feels like a foreign language.’*
It was like learning the history of a country you knew nothing about and had no interest in.
You knew it existed, but you had no desire to memorize every detail.
Maintaining our grades was a cadet's duty, so we studied diligently anyway.
“Then class is dismissed. Oh, by the way, is anyone here taking ‘Aegis Ancient Language II’?”
I raised my hand at Sir Norfolk’s question.
Ancient languages were one of the few subjects I felt confident in.
Five or six other cadets raised their hands too, and Sir Norfolk made eye contact with each of us as he spoke.
“Professor Melville, the instructor, says she can’t hold the lecture due to sudden abdominal pain.”
“Oh no.”
Professor Melville was a gaunt woman with a somber expression, famous for her plain black dresses.
Her black attire and perpetually dark demeanor led new students to mistake her for someone in mourning when they first attended her Aegis Ancient Language lectures.
“She asked me to pass on her apologies, especially with end-of-term evaluations coming up. Makeup class announcements will come sometime this week.”
“Tch.”
Grumbles escaped from the cadets who had briefly rejoiced at the unexpected free time.
But what could we do?
All we could do was pray Professor Melville wouldn’t schedule the makeup on the weekend.
*‘I’ve got some free time. Should I head over early?’*
Cadet schedules varied wildly, so during free periods, we’d head back to the dorms or drop by clubrooms.
Going now didn’t mean the clubroom would be empty.
*‘Actually, perfect timing. Let’s check it out while I have the gap.’*
In the end, after the Morals Corruption Club and the Decadence Club, I decided to visit the Current Affairs Debate Club next.
The Debate Club hadn’t earned the same notoriety as the Morals Corruption Club—not because their members lived virtuously, but because no one cared about current affairs debates.
Yet the Debate Club persisted as an official club for a simple reason.
Its educational and political aims aligned perfectly with the academy’s principles.
-Knock knock.
I rapped on the door of the Debate Club room, located behind the Social Dance Club and the widest one, albeit long and narrow.
-…Uhheerr~
From beyond the door came a garbled noise that was neither human speech nor an animal growl.
*‘Should I just go home?’*
Witnessing the academy’s corruption two days in a row sounded exhausting.
I pretended I hadn’t knocked and turned to leave.
But…
“Eee~ Cadet~ Cadet’s heeere~~”
A wildly agitated cadet flung the door open, slurring incoherently.
“No, no.”
“Whaddya mean nooo? It’s Arma Cruuuise~”
“You’ve got the wrong per—gah!”
Trouble.
I was caught by the throat mid-turn and yanked inside the clubroom.
*‘Booze smell…’*
The stench of alcohol rivaled—no, surpassed—the Decadence Club’s. I pinched my nose.
“Heehee. Heeere~ Pretty cadet. More~!”
“Fossil? Anyway, I think I came to the wrong place.”
“Kahaha~”
This was a beast den.
The drunks sprawled on the floor in the clubroom I’d been dragged into began crawling toward me one by one.
“Uuuu~”
“Euhuu~”
Making suspicious noises like that.
Were these guys really fit to be soldiers?
Not all academy graduates became soldiers, of course, but these ones had to serve a mandatory term after graduation.
And they were in this state.
“Hey, is this how you treat a guest? Hurry up and bring out the booze, you idiots!?”
“I don’t know what you want me to bring. I’m fine, really.”
A servile tone slipped out unbidden.
Deep down, I wanted to beg on my knees to let me leave, dignity be damned.
The drunks were in that bad a shape.
“He says no booze~ Thirsty deer~ Gotta dig your own well~”
“The floor’s shaaaaking~ Evacuateee~!”
Their flushed faces were all cheerfully plastered, but they weren’t even looking at each other.
Four lay on the cold floor, wedged with chilled bottles to cool off from the booze heat.
“The state of our nation! Revolution! We need a revolution!”
“To curb inflation, we must stop issuing bonds!”
Three were sober enough to sit and complain.
“Glasses! Bring glasses!”
“Arma Cruise cadet’s here, so let’s drink!”
And two more—the ones currently restraining me—had transcended their limits into superhuman strength.
Nine beasts in total howled at the ceiling, demanding more of something.
*‘Haa…’*
In the end, pinned by the drunks’ terrifying strength, I plopped down right there.
The drunks swigged away, spouting grand terms like world affairs, the future of humanities, magical revolutions, tacking on slogans like “Awaken, anyway!”
“Ughhh.”
-Clang.
Two hours later.
At a time when afternoon classes should have ended, my face burned red as I struggled to sit straight.
*‘Everything else is fine, but my tolerance never improves.’*
Even the super-strong drunks eventually stuck to the floor after one too many.
Seizing the chance, I rejected the flying glasses and stood up.
I could play it cool, but I couldn’t hide my flushed face.
“Hic, he walked out.”
The clubrooms faced each other across the hallway windows.
Someone must have been watching through the opposite window, because as I stepped into the hall, an unfamiliar cadet yelled loudly.
From the reaction, it was clear the Debate Club turning into drunken beasts wasn’t a one- or two-day thing.
“He looks fine?”
From a distance, sure, but up close, not so much.
My fingertips, glanced at casually, were red all the way to the nails.
“Damn, wasted time…”
I undid a button on my choking shirt collar and pretended to wash my face at the drinking fountain.
Those world-hating drunks weren’t likely to chase me down.
They were too busy cornering themselves.
Gulping water furiously to sober up faster, I headed to my final stop: the Equestrian Club room.
***
*‘Haa…’*
Okay, I admit the order was wrong.
I should’ve come to the Equestrian Club first, not the Debate Club.
My legs still worked, but if I rode now, it’d be drunk driving.
I unnecessarily sighed at the magnificent steed “Bolt,” dragged out from the stables just to greet me.
“Prriiing. Prriiing!”
“Yeah, sorry.”
Bolt deliberately bared his teeth and snorted.
It seemed like a complaint, but I had no idea what about.
The mood didn’t feel right to ask another cadet now, though.
“I smell something sweet in the air~”
“Yeah, spring’s almost here.”
*‘Spring? It’s still winter.’*
“Lina, the Nile rose in summer is beautiful. I want to spend next summer there with you.”
“Hmph… If I still love you by then.”
*‘Can I really overhear this sweet talk?’*
The Equestrian Club… was couple central.
If the Social Dance Club was about bold push-pull flirtations to test attractions, this place felt like the endgame for established pairs.
Disgustingly lovey-dovey opposite-sex couples and same-sex couples rode snorting steeds around the scenic outskirts of beautiful Aegis Academy, grimacing like they’d tasted shit.
That was the storied Royal Aegis Academy Equestrian Club’s activity.
“Prriing! Prriing!”
*‘This guy… doing it on purpose?’*
Worse, the increasingly excited horse licked my carefully combed hair the wrong way and threw a tantrum.
“No idea what’s up, but sorry.”
“Hiiing! Prriiing!”
“I apologized.”
Maybe from raising Cookie, I kept foolishly talking to the horse, and Bolt only got more riled up.
“Ugh… Whoa, whoa.”
Just as I thought gripping the reins wouldn’t calm him anymore.
“Whoa whoa! Easy.”
Someone seized Bolt’s reins as he started bucking.
Bolt tried kicking a few more times before freezing in place like he was nailed down.
He probably felt that nailed-down pressure for real.
“Shirley!”
It was Shirley holding the reins.
She was in rolled-up work clothes and a straw hat—the typical look for academy troublemakers assigned community service.
Shirley peeled something off Bolt’s hind leg with dazzling strength, calming him.
“Straw stuck to his tail must’ve followed him. He probably thought it was a bug.”
“Ah, that’s why he kept getting pissy. I didn’t notice.”
“Good temperament on this one. He held out pretty long.”
Bolt, instantly cheered, pranced in odd rhythms around Shirley and me.
Shirley patted the waddling horse’s mane as it shook and asked me,
“But shouldn’t you skip joining the Equestrian Club? They need to rename it. Something like ‘Men and Women Sit Separately in Class’ or whatever.”
“I was already thinking of bailing. Feels like a place I shouldn’t be.”
“Jeez, why try joining something you never did before? Couldn’t stop you since you’re on probation. All the Wooden Cross Class clubs are in rough shape. Go for Silver Chalice instead.”
Shirley sent Bolt back to the stables, then insisted on walking me back to the dorm out of boredom.
It felt more like surveillance than anything, but I gave in to her urging waves to get inside sooner than planned.
Minutes later.
The moment I stripped to wash, the vibrating booze stench hit me, explaining Shirley’s watchfulness.
-Thud.
Today had been no joke.
I pressed cold fingers to my cooling cheek and mentally sorted through the day’s events.
The conclusion?
“Out of the four clubs, the only one with real issues is the Composition Club…”