Chapter 88
Chapter 88
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 88
Chapter Title: Butterfly Effect for the Author (8)
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***
Baonic's body floated up into the air from an invisible blow.
He sliced through the empty space and flew off into the distance before slamming headfirst into a tree and crashing to the ground.
He was twitching, so he seemed to have luckily survived. Though it would probably take a while for him to come to his senses.
Anyway, faced with the sudden turn of events, Seti and Yeomyeong reacted in two different ways.
Yeomyeong, who had guessed who the invisible assailant was, let out a sigh and extended his hand.
Seti, who hadn't yet thought of the invisibility cloak...
rushed right to Yeomyeong's side and swung her leg.
Whoosh! Mana gathered in her straight-extended leg, slicing through the wind.
If Yeomyeong hadn't turned his hand to block her kick—which had been aimed at empty air—the force alone would have been enough to cleave the surrounding trees.
It was a perfect Flying Leg Art, one he hadn't seen in a long time.
"...Yeomyeong? Why'd you block it?"
Seti looked up at him in surprise, her leg suddenly caught.
It had been a perilous moment where a slight mistake could have made him take the full brunt of her kick.
"...Seti, hold on a sec."
But Yeomyeong released her leg without much concern and turned his gaze toward where Baonic had been.
"Hey, what the hell was that? Why hit some innocent guy?"
"...."
"Take off the cloak first. Let's see your face and talk..."
The moment Yeomyeong reached out to remove the invisibility cloak, a shrill, frantic voice cried out from the transparent air.
"Those two were tailing you!"
Yeah, I had a feeling. Yeomyeong gave a wry smile.
"I know."
"...You knew?"
"Yeah, I was just about to ask why they were following us."
There was no reply. Yeomyeong felt puzzled and reached out, but the voice had already moved elsewhere.
He grabbed at empty air belatedly and expanded his senses by drawing up mana.
But all he could hear was some nonsensical mumbling.
Ugh, seriously, me, like this, over there, I think, that, uh, Seti and, you and, like that, no, between, really...
That was the end of it, followed by a brief silence. A single leaf drifted down on the wind, and as Seti tilted her head...
Thud thud!
Sudden footsteps rang out. The culprit was fleeing in a panic.
"No, wait... Hey! Where are you going?"
Yeomyeong shouted toward the receding footsteps. But they didn't stop—in fact, they only sped up further.
"Yeomyeong, don't tell me..."
Seti finally guessed the assailant's identity, her face paling in shock.
The Saintess, and her invisibility cloak.
Yeomyeong caught Seti's expression and gave a wry smile before poking her shoulder with a request.
"Go after her and calm her down. She sounded pretty freaked out."
"...Me alone? What about you, Yeomyeong?"
"I've gotta take this guy to the infirmary."
Yeomyeong nodded toward Baonic, who was still twitching on the ground. He wouldn't die from those injuries, but leaving him here was another matter.
"Can't I go with you? We don't have to chase him..."
"...Seti."
Yeomyeong placed a hand on her shoulder.
"...."
"I don't know what happened between you and the Saintess, or why things are like this between you two, and I won't ask until you tell me. But... she thinks of you as a friend. At least this time, shouldn't you go catch her?"
Seti chewed her lip for a moment, then met Yeomyeong's eyes and sighed.
"...Fine. I'll go find out why she's acting like this."
"If you can, soothe her a bit. Please."
"...Making a big deal out of something like this."
As she gathered mana in her legs to unleash Flying Leg Art toward where the Saintess had vanished, Seti turned back to add,
"Oh, and clear your evening schedule. You're meeting my little sisters, so brace yourself."
"...Is that something to brace for?"
"I warned you."
Before Yeomyeong could respond, Seti kicked off the ground.
Watching her back as she sped away in an instant, Yeomyeong recalled the only little sister of hers he'd met.
Siri, the red-haired girl he'd encountered in Incheon.
The bold little brat who had tested him right there on the spot.
...No way all her sisters are like Siri, right? If so, bracing myself might not be enough.
Lost in such idle thoughts, Yeomyeong approached Baonic.
Up close, the guy's condition wasn't as bad as he'd thought. As expected of a superhuman, nothing seemed broken anywhere.
There was a big lump on the back of his head, but... the priest aspirants could heal that in no time.
Still, to avoid any infection, Yeomyeong grabbed Baonic's shoulder and waist, avoiding the back of his head.
The moment he carefully lifted him like they were arm-in-arm.
Rustle.
A notebook slipped from Baonic's waistband.
Whether by chance or fate, the fallen notebook's lock had broken off, splaying its contents wide open.
It must have shattered when the Saintess sent him flying.
"...Oh."
Carrying a notebook with a lock like that—it must be pretty important.
Yeomyeong bent down to pick it up. Though not on purpose, his eyes naturally scanned the open page.
The first page of the notebook, marked with a big X...
The moment he read what was written there, Yeomyeong's golden eyes turned ice-cold.
***
At the northern edge of the academy.
The place named "Bob Hawke Port" after the Australian prime minister at the time of the academy's founding.
But the port workers—not to mention the academy students—simply called it the port, ignoring its official name. Now, it was in unexpected chaos.
Ships upon ships upon ships.
Freighters loaded with materials for terrorism recovery, U.S. Navy warships flying their flags, and assorted fishing boats came and went.
It looked less like an academy port and more like an international trade harbor, and the inside was no different.
Laborers unloading cargo against the sea breeze, staff and soldiers bustling about.
"...Doesn't it feel like the academy's resolve to overcome this crisis?"
Medga, sitting in a café overlooking the port and taking in the sight, offered his brief impression.
A remark full of pride befitting the academy's admissions director.
But the man across from him, sipping fresh fruit juice, wasn't impressed.
"...Eh? All I see is a filthy mess of busyness."
Medga raised an eyebrow at him.
A man with an M-shaped baldness exposing his forehead and a nose as sharp as a blade.
"...Wallard. You need to cultivate some aesthetic sense."
The man called Wallard grinned good-naturedly.
"Haha! Admissions Director, what would a guy like me know about aesthetics? I'm no appraiser. Cultivating that would just get in the way of work."
He gulped down his glass as he spoke, then slammed the empty one down with a clink, adding,
"...Besides, we're on the job right now. Better focus on work than scenery."
"...."
What job, when you've already knocked back five glasses of juice?
Medga glanced between the empty glass and Wallard's face, about to snap back, but shut his mouth.
Arguing with a mere informant was ridiculous, and more importantly, he wasn't wrong.
What else would bring the academy's admissions director to lounge in a port café at a time like this?
As Wallard said, it was for work. The problem was the nature of that work...
*An important guest is visiting the academy, so have the admissions director greet them personally. First, before any journalists or others can cut in.*
He shook his head, recalling the principal's order.
He couldn't fathom how important this guest must be to warrant the admissions director's personal welcome.
The principal hadn't even told him the guest's name or face.
Instead, he'd sent along one blue rat informant to identify them...
*The principal must have some plan...*
If it weren't a direct request from the principal he respected, he wouldn't have entertained such an absurd task.
Anyway, that was that...
"So, when's this guest supposed to arrive?"
Wallard's eyebrows shot up at the abrupt question. He checked his watch, then replied with a sigh.
"Within the hour, probably...?"
"...Probably?"
"Well, ships' speeds vary so much depending on the currents."
"...."
"But don't worry too much. We'll spot them the moment they hit the port."
Medga clenched his fist, then turned back to the port.
He stared down at it for a good while.
In the meantime, Wallard ordered more drinks a few times, the café owner refilled their coffee upon recognizing the academy bigwig, and the dull wait dragged on.
Then, a small boat appeared on the horizon.
The kind commonly called a dinghy, barely big enough for one person with a tiny cockpit.
"Huh? That boat..."
Wallard widened his eyes at the sight.
Finally here? Medga stood from his seat, eyeing the dinghy.
"Is that the guest's boat?"
"Yes. Fishing boat with the crow emblem... That's definitely it."
"Good, then let's head down."
Medga strode out of the café. Wallard, waiting for his next juice, followed with a grimace.
The two crossed straight through the busy traffic of vehicles to the pier.
Medga walked at almost a jog, and Wallard had to actually run to keep up.
Thanks to Wallard nearly keeling over from the sprint, they reached the destination before the dinghy.
The academy port's far end, a dock for small boats.
"So, what do I do now?"
Medga asked, watching the approaching dinghy.
Wallard, panting, looked up at it.
"Hoo... Nothing fancy. When the guest gets off, just greet them, then escort to the VIP room."
"...Simpler than I thought."
"W-Well, you'll change your mind once you see their face."
Heeding Wallard's warning, the admissions director straightened his clothes tensely.
Anyone arriving in a dinghy like that wasn't ordinary.
And this was a guest the principal personally oversaw—such guests were usually...
*Nobles, or eccentrics. Maybe both.*
As he sorted his thoughts, the boat reached the dock.
"Welcome to Lord Howe."
Medga stepped forward and said. He straightened his back and tensed his neck to greet the disembarking guest properly.
*Let's see just how impressive this person is.*
But for some reason, no one got off the dinghy.
Dozens of seconds of silence passed. Even Wallard, still catching his breath, found the quiet eerie.
"...No way?"
Wallard suddenly realized something and rushed to the dinghy.
"Wallard? What are you..."
By the time Medga called out, Wallard had already boarded, flung open the cockpit door, and peered inside.
"...Ah, damn it."
A frustrated groan. Medga belatedly climbed aboard and checked the same spot.
The cramped dinghy cockpit was filled with half-eaten fish scraps and black feathers. Fish aside, feathers?
"...What in the world is going on?"
As the baffled Medga asked, Wallard scratched his nose awkwardly.
"W-Well... the guest seems to have already... gone to the academy."
"...."
"You need to hurry after them... Meeting a student on their own could be disastrous for someone like that... Oof!"
Medga finally smacked Wallard on the head.
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