19 - The Victim of the Academy

The Deal (1) What can I possibly do? To be honest, there is almost nothing I can handle on my own. Without the help of others, I can't navigate through this situation. However, I can't just relinquish everything to others and step back. I must solve my own problems. So, what should I do now? I need to make the most out of my current situation. Now, onto the most important issue. "I'm here for a consultation." "Huh..." Cult Ereticus. Let's start with you first. * * * "I never thought you would come to me on your own." "Because I'm a coward?" "Yes, when I last saw you, the impression was unmistakably that of a coward." "I'm well aware of my own disgrace." Yeah, I did make a sorry figure back then. Honestly, I still want to run away. I don't even want to make eye contact. But I can't keep running away when the other side is targeting me. No, there's nowhere left to run. Even a cornered rat will bite a cat. This time, it's my turn. "Didn't your leader say last time that we'd have a proper conversation when the time was right?" "He did." "Isn't this just the perfect timing for that?" "Haha... a situation I've long hoped for. Please, have a seat, Johan." Cult smiled gently. Sure, a sudden event like this is likely nothing to him. "So, what's troubling you, Johan? I'm here to listen." "Recently, it seems some strange person has been stalking me. It's made it hard for me to sleep at night out of anxiety." "That's terrible. You must be stressed." His face is as thick as a brick wall. Despite being openly criticized, he doesn't even flinch. In that case, there's no point in playing mind games. He's already figured out what kind of person I am, so trying to unsettle him like last time would be futile. Here, it's best to be direct rather than speaking in circles. "Why don't we exchange some information? It seems like you have questions for me too, so let's ask each other in turn." "Sure, but what guarantee do we have that either of us won't lie?" "There's none of that. You're free to lie. I might lie too. Let's see who can read the other better." "Alright, that sounds fun. Although I'm not as good as you, I do have some confidence in my acting skills." "Is that so? I'm not very good at lying, you know." "Haha, a lie right from the start." Cult chuckled softly. Looking at him like this, he seemed like nothing more than an ordinary... no, a frail young boy. I knew how terrifying the things he kept hidden within were, but I had no intention of revealing them. "Let's start with the first question. Why do you think I'm good at acting?" "I looked into it." "Is my personal information some kind of public property? Everyone seems to be digging into my background." "It was intriguing. Especially your actions after the death of your fiancée. Ah! I’d like to use a question of my own here. Was your relationship with her special?" For some, this would be the kind of question that pierces the heart. Truly befitting the head of an evil organization. However, I didn't let my expression falter. He may have intended to disturb my mind, but I remained unshaken. I kept my composure. In front of him, I couldn't show even the slightest emotion. Cult could see through all sorts of secrets just from that. Every little thing could become a weakness. "Honestly, it happened when I was five, so I don't even remember her face. Frankly, I'm not sure if I liked her either." I didn't even need to take a deep breath. The words came out naturally, in the same tone as always. "Is that so? That's unfortunate." It wasn't a lie. I can no longer remember her face. And truthfully, if asked whether I liked her, I can't be sure either. It was too long ago—a time when wounds could heal easily. Additionally, I was too young to understand love or have memories of a past life. "Why are you here in the sanctuary?" "What else? I'm a legitimate therapist invited here." "......" "Hmm, did I make it too obvious? I'm here to continue our unfinished conversation from last time. About the Oracle." This confirmed that I was one of Cult's targets. Of course, there could be other motives. But it's clear that I am one of the objectives here. "So, what is it? What is your relationship with the Oracle?" "There is no relationship." "Oh, come on, let’s not tell such obvious lies, okay?" "Really, there isn't. I couldn't even recognize the Oracle's face if I saw them." "Hmm? That can't be right." Cult tilted his head in confusion. There was no need for me to pretend on this point. I had no clue about the Oracle's appearance, let alone their gender, so there’s no conceivable connection between us. Yet, this seemed to confuse Cult even more. "Actually, I’d like to ask you—why do you think I'm related to the Oracle?" "Because you seem to know the future. There are things that would be impossible otherwise." "I understand." At this point, I comprehended why Cult had an interest in me. It was likely because the future that Cult, a seer, had foreseen differed from reality. While he might not see all futures, he could likely see at least the future of Dietrich. This was unavoidable. Who would anticipate facing Dietrich during an exam? Is my weakness my fault? It’s simply bad luck. I've come too far to wallow in frustration now. Even if I have no ties to the Oracle, it remains true that I can alter the future. "Now it's my turn, right? Who was the mole in Under Chain?" "...... A mole in Under Chain? I'm not sure what you mean. Is there such a person in the sanctuary?" "Isn't there? There must be if you look properly, maybe even a follower from Eden?" Cult's act was flawless. But it was easy to tell he was lying. Given we were both ambushed, it’s impossible Cult didn't suspect anything. Cult isn’t optimistic enough to write off such an event as coincidence. He’s desperate enough to be ruthless. A monster willing to burn everything, even his life, to reach his forbidden goal can't afford to be anything but cautious. "It's your turn. Go ahead." "It seems like this will be the final question, judging by the mood, right?" Indeed. I've already obtained all the information I needed. "Johan." Cult, who had been conversing with a gentle smile, now looked at me with a solemn expression. "Are you willing to risk your life for others?" Is this Cult's own internal struggle? Or is it just another act? Perhaps he’s trying to recruit me. Cult, ready to set the world ablaze, might feel a dire need for someone who understands him. "No, my life is most precious to me." However, there will never come a day when Cult and I see eye to eye. I don't intend to sacrifice my life, even for my goals. * * * The conversation with Cult had some successes of its own. Cult operates like a hidden mastermind, whether for better or worse. If we continue to suspect and monitor Cult, unexpected situations will likely arise from another direction. That would make it likely for him to exploit the traitor hidden in Class F. Finding Class F's turncoat? It's nothing to Cult. By utilizing his role as a counselor and subtle suggestions, it would be simple—especially with a mind as brilliant as Cult’s. "Still, did I manage to fool him somehow...?" I asked Cult who the mole in Class F might be. Cult claimed he had no idea, suggesting such a person didn’t exist. Had he truly not known, he wouldn’t have spoken like that. Instead, he would have pretended ignorance to create confusion. "Mellana. As expected." But, I already knew who the traitor in Class F was. I just needed confirmation that Cult would exploit them. Cult considered hiding the traitor's identity more important, thus revealing a flaw. I guessed Cult would identify the mole in Under Chain. It's in his nature. He likely called each student individually, uncovering secrets through implication and hypnosis. The one mistake he made was not properly handling the aftermath of toying with people's minds. I waited for students to emerge from Cult’s counseling room, specifically targeting those who appeared mentally distressed. "Are you the traitor?" "What? Me?" "Don’t bother denying it. I already know everything." "Is this guy crazy?" That response alone told me the student wasn’t the traitor. Even when targeting someone in a vulnerable state, that kind of reaction is telling. I continued eliminating suspects this way, unconcerned with my reputation. My image? Irrelevant. "I never had any friends anyway." It doesn’t matter how much worse my reputation gets here. Cult wouldn't have anticipated how unscrupulous I could be. This approach narrowed down the suspects, allowing me to identify Mellana as the traitor. In the past, I might have immediately reported this to Lobelia, but... "I’m giving you a chance. Confess to the prince before I report anything, and you might receive some leniency." I offered a chance. It also served as bait. If Mellana confessed to Lobelia, she could receive some degree of clemency. But if she considered attacking me before I could report her... Then everything would proceed according to my plan. I had set the bait well enough. All that remained was... * * * A gust of wind blew. A sudden breeze. "Ah!" "......." A startled voice. Silver-white hair fluttering in the spring wind. A hat hovering high in the sky, slowly descending. A girl, flustered by her exposed rabbit ears, pressed them flat with her hand, her red eyes wide with surprise. "Sir Johan...?" Our eyes met—Ariel Ether’s and mine. Once, twice. Ariel blinked a few times before furrowing her brows slightly. "Running into you so often like this is kind of unnerving. Could you pick up my hat? Actually, never mind. I'll get it myself. You’d probably just complain." Grumbling, Ariel walked over. Unlike before, she seemed in good health now. However, I picked up the fallen hat before she could. I examined it briefly and placed it on my head. "Does it suit me?" "No, not at all." "Well, I figured that would be the case. Here, I'll return it." With a swift motion, Ariel snatched the hat from my hand, fully alert. "I knew it wouldn't suit me, anyway." "Then why...?" "Sometimes you just want to try things on, even if they don't suit you. But it seems that’s not for me. I won’t do it again." "Smart choice." A rather harsh critique, but fair enough. "And this time, we didn’t meet by coincidence—I came looking for you." "Pardon? For me? Why...?" Like me, she doesn’t seem particularly fond of me. After all the times I’ve deceived her, it's understandable. Plus, my personality might be part of the issue. Anyhow... "I wanted to see if we could make a deal." "A deal? What could Sir Johan possibly offer me?" "Wow..." Her attitude was something else. How insignificant does she think I am to say such a thing? Her latent aristocratic superiority complex was unmistakable. "Don’t look at me like that. I meant there's nothing I particularly want." "Sure." As a fellow noble, I could understand the ugly side of this. I mean, for a duchess... "And really, is there anything you could offer me? Our family's wealth surpasses yours, and in terms of force or other means..." "You know, this is getting genuinely unnerving with that kind of talk." No kidding. It wasn’t a joke; she genuinely seemed to have a peculiar superiority complex. "Ugh! Just tell me what you want. If it’s simple enough, I’ll hear you out." While Lobelia was calculative, Ariel was devoid of such considerations. She was filled with altruism. But what can I say? That’s not who I am. I don’t engage in anything without expecting something in return. I'm sorry, it seems like you've entered some placeholder text or a series of random characters. Could you please provide more context or clarify what you're looking for? I don't trust benevolence. “You may have heard of the situation, but Cult Ereticus has his sights set on me. So I'm preparing in my own way.” “And?” “Of course, His Highness might have plans of his own, but could you perhaps go along with mine this time?” Lobelia is probably planning something too, but I doubt it's foolproof. I considered sharing my plan with her and asking for help, but doing so seemed too risky. It would mean revealing one of my biggest secrets to her. Ariel frowned at my sincere request and replied, “...Is this a confession?” “Absolutely not.” So please, don’t recoil like that. It stings unnecessarily. I dislike you too, you know? “Yes, Sir Johan is certainly weak, so I can see why you'd be anxious. His Highness will be strong even without me, but…” Ariel scanned me from head to toe as if she were appraising me. Wow, she's something else. “Fine, I understand. You mentioned a deal, though. What can you offer in return?” “A way to cure you.” I know what happens when a body cannot handle excessive talent—raging blue flames, a body evaporating within them. The tragedy born of such talent is known as ‘Transcendence Disease’ or ‘Archmage’s Malady.’ The curse of an archmage gnawing at Ariel Ether's body—that, I know well. "...!" Ariel’s eyes widened. From our previous conversation, she would have resigned herself to despair. I, too, thought it was something beyond hope and turned away. “...Was there a way, after all?” “No, there isn’t. There’s no cure for you now or in the future.” The notion of inventing it in a matter of years is simply unrealistic. Normally, you would require massive support and years of concentrated research in that field to succeed, if at all. “Then what? How will you give me a nonexistent cure?” Ariel seemed a bit upset, as if she felt teased. Understandable, given her half-resigned state from our last talk. But this isn't a joke, nor a false promise to escape a situation. “I will create it.” “...What?” “I know that disease quite well.” Since long ago, I’ve researched transcendence disease. To be exact, since I was five. Since that moment when I watched someone burn and merge with the world. Since witnessing the death of my fiancée. Before I shifted my research toward finding a cure for my sister Chris’s illness. “You probably know from your investigation, but I have expertise in alchemy.” I clung to that disease. I turned my research focus to save the living, not the dead, which consequently meant abandoning it. Yes, I was stuck doing neither one nor the other. What a pathetic state. “I will create a cure for your illness, so please, just this once, lend me your aid.” ‘I had no choice'—these words justified my retreat. To save Chris, I had no choice. I’m not a genius, so I had no choice. Clinging to the dead is meaningless, so I had no choice. Those excuses allowed me to flee from research showing no progress. Thus, this proposal wasn’t typical for someone like me who was always running away. But what could I do? Much like how I once tried on a large hat blown to me by the wind. “Will you trust me?” Even if it doesn’t suit me, sometimes you just want to try. That too, is something I cannot help.