Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Guardian Angel? (1)
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“Argh~ I couldn’t finish again today.”
Shirley dumped a handful of weeds she’d yanked up onto the ground.
Cookie tried to roll around on them, but I quickly grabbed her and brushed off the recovered weeds. Shirley groaned, rubbing her back.
“I’m just gonna tell Makina! What’s so wrong with punishing a heinous criminal who bullies the weak?”
“Weak? Anyway. It’s private justice, that’s why.”
The whole area was full of Makina’s fans, yet she had no fear.
I put a finger to my lips to signal Shirley to be quiet, then picked the grass seeds off Cookie’s fur.
‘She fought for me, and I’m grateful, but she keeps volunteering for these losing battles…’
I didn’t want Shirley’s good qualities to fade like this.
Whether she sensed my feelings or not, Cookie happily surrendered to my touch with a blissful expression.
“Woof! Woof!”
“Eung~ You spoiled brat. Senpai, this one’s got bad habits.”
Shirley scooped up Cookie, who had been sprawled flat on the ground.
Then she slung the over-25kg Cookie over her shoulder like a sack of rice and started walking briskly.
Cookie didn’t seem to mind, wagging her tail furiously.
“She’s been like that since she was a puppy.”
“Born that way.”
Shirley carried Cookie as lightly as if she’d draped a scarf around her neck, then carefully set her down on the ground.
Cookie seemed to realize it was time to go inside and looked a bit glum.
“But why’d you suddenly bring Cookie along? The handlers would’ve taken her for a walk if that’s all.”
“Oh, something was bothering me.”
Just a few days ago, someone had tied the entrance test paper I’d written for the Composition Department around Cookie’s neck and sent it.
I didn’t think it was meant to harm Cookie—it seemed like a simple warning to me—but…
Still, it bothered me that someone might mess with a speechless animal, so I’d been thinking of keeping her close for a while.
“I did ask the handler to watch her extra carefully.”
“She’s put on a bit of weight, huh.”
“…Huh?”
“You’re worried because she’s getting piggy? Looks like she’s gained about 3kg.”
“Huh?”
Surprised by Shirley’s words, I hoisted Cookie up from where she sat with her butt on my foot.
“It’s true?”
“You think I’d say something pointless? She’s a total king pig—”
“No! Don’t say mean things to a puppy.”
“What puppy? She’s the size of a house now.”
“She’s not that big!”
I covered Cookie’s ears.
Hidden by her fur, I hadn’t noticed, but Cookie had rounded out all over.
‘The handlers wouldn’t neglect her…’
Unless someone had been sneaking her treats, it didn’t make sense for a meticulously cared-for dog to suddenly gain weight.
I pictured someone who’d built rapport with her by giving her paper-collar-level treats.
‘More persistent and meticulous than I thought.’
Sure enough, Roger, Cookie’s handler, was baffled despite increasing her exercise—he had no idea why she was gaining weight.
In the end, I met with Cookie’s handler, asked for help with weight loss, and sent her inside.
Shirley, who’d tagged along purely out of curiosity, glanced between Cookie and me before losing interest and turning away.
“You walking me back again today?”
“Yeah. You keep wandering off, Senpai.”
“……”
In a normal situation, I, the guy, would escort Shirley to her room.
I sheepishly accepted her escort without protest.
Shirley went into her room, stood by the window, and waved as she watched me.
If this became routine, it’d restrict my movements going forward…
But for now, maybe I should stick to behaving myself so she could relax.
Finally alone, able to calmly sort through things, my mind started spinning at full speed.
“So all the ones targeting me are in the Composition Department?”
Ridiculous.
Among those who’d ambushed me were magical beasts without Student Council markings.
And no cadet in the Composition Department had the talent to handle beasts that well, I could say for sure.
Even if the mysterious group threatening me had all gathered in the Composition Department by some miracle, that didn’t solve any of my problems.
‘From Shirley and Theodore’s cases, even if Arthur wakes up, he probably won’t be in any state to tell me anything useful.’
Especially Arthur—unlike Shirley and Theodore, who clearly remembered “some point in the future, not now,” he’d been deeply confused.
On top of that, Arthur had only shown rage and hostility toward me.
The only thing I could imagine him doing now was finally putting a sure bullet in my head.
‘I need more information… but how?’
Argh, no clue.
The more the story, events, and shaky clues piled up, the more confused I got.
Right now, my only sharp option was asking Theodore for another “Theodore Special.”
It wasn’t easy to obtain, so no worries about addiction.
It was a simple answer after agonizing so long.
-Tap, tap, tap.
-Roll call.
From afar came the sound of Dylan, the dorm monitor, striking wooden sticks to announce roll call.
The Academy’s roll call was formality, so even if Dylan was doing it, no need to show my face.
It just meant it was 10 o’clock without checking.
-Scrape, scrape.
As the roll call sounds faded, I wrote a letter asking Theodore for a “Theodore Special” and handed it to a servant.
Even if it was just formality, I didn’t want to wander the dorm and become an eyesore right now.
Soon after, hoping for no nightmares tonight, I finished getting ready for bed.
Unfortunately, despite all my efforts to relax, I dreamed of being devoured alive by a summoned evil spirit.
***
‘Sleep deprivation. I’m dying.’
I’d spent the night waking and dozing repeatedly until morning came.
Never imagined something this mentally draining would hit right before graduation—I cursed myself for cramming last year’s schedule into the mornings.
Nothing done, yet my under-eyes kept twitching. Condition wrecked.
To wake up, I splashed cold water on my face and changed into uniform.
“Ugh, cold.”
Winter had fully set in.
I draped my uniform cloak with mink-fur lining for warmth and left the dorm room.
“Good morning, Cadet Cruise.”
“Good morning, Cadet Hamilton.”
I returned the greeting to the brown-haired cadet who bowed politely.
Even early morning, plenty of cadets passed through the halls of Wooden Cross House.
Natural, of course.
We were all facing promotion exams around the same time.
In two weeks, finals plus promotion tests awaited.
Promotion exams tested mastery of major subjects.
Meet or exceed year-start goals, and you’d promote to advanced courses.
‘Library first today.’
For lectures already finished, just check in—no need to stay.
I marked attendance in the annex second-floor classroom for “Theory and Practice of Black and White Magic,” then headed straight to the library.
“Using the reading room? Sign here, please.”
Like the dining hall staff, a young servant with black lace over their face handed me a ledger.
Names of cadets who’d arrived before me were listed in order.
‘Feels off.’
About to sign casually, I recalled my handwriting being forged.
〔Arma Cruise.〕
In the end, I consciously used a different style from usual.
The library reading room, like Thorn Crown House’s workshop, had walls lined thick with books except the window side.
I pictured desired books, asked a librarian for high ones, and pulled reachable ones myself onto the table.
Along with theory books, I grabbed variant editions of the Aegis Genesis Myth I hadn’t seen.
Good thing it was exam season.
No one would bat an eye at me flipping through books here all day.
“Mind if I sit here?”
“Go ahead.”
As I skimmed the black magic theory book I’d picked first, someone spoke up.
I cleared some sprawled books and yielded the seat to the unfamiliar cadet.
Round jaw and flat face—clearly a low-year still growing.
-Scrape, scrape.
If they weren’t here to study, they wouldn’t pick the remote, high-ceilinged reading room.
Fortunately, the gloomy-faced cadet next to me didn’t seem suspicious of me.
I hurriedly scanned the black magic theory book thoroughly before it got too late, then started organizing notes.
“Huh.”
About half an hour later.
Too focused— the cadet’s elbow knocked over my inkwell.
Ink spills happen often with books out and wide study range.
Concentrating on notes with books spread, forgetting a small inkwell’s spot is barely a mistake.
“It’s fine.”
“Some got on your shirt and pants… Ack!”
-Thud, thump!
The flustered cadet pulled a handkerchief to dab my clothes—then the stacked books toppled onto my foot.
“Urk.”
“S-Sorry!”
This sneak attack was ingenious.
Eyes watered instantly.
I waved off the apologetic cadet—no need for more sorrys—and clutched my throbbing left foot.
“Any injuries!? I’ll call a servant to carry you back to the dorm. Just wait—”
“N-No. It’s okay. Sit down.”
“But I…”
“It hurts like hell, but the pain’s mostly gone now… Don’t want the embarrassment of being carried out by a servant.”
“Oh.”
The cadet fidgeted, then sat back at my urging, peeking at me.
“If it really bothers you, walk me to the circulation desk.”
“I will!!”
Classic low-year stiffness.
Even without this, high-years don’t eat low-years—it’d take another five years to get that.
Limping, I gathered my stuff and headed to the reading room’s opposite side, where the circulation desk was.
Then started noting titles of books I’d set aside to borrow.
“You can go now.”
Pain had faded after a while anyway.
Having a super tense low-year trailing me was way more burdensome than a throbbing foot.
I shooed away the boy endlessly vowing treatment in his father’s name if there were aftereffects, introducing himself as Vincent River.
‘Sending off one kid is twice as tiring.’
Back in my day, senpais said go and we went no questions asked.
…Such silly thoughts as I returned to the reading room—then a shocking incident occurred.
-Thunk!
“Urgh.”
An ornamental potted plant on the high window ledge—out of reach without a ladder—fell right onto Vincent River’s head.