24 - The Victim of the Academy

Eye of the Storm (2) It resembled something that had crawled up from the depths of the abyss. Its movements were sluggish, with a syringe in one hand filled with a mysterious purple substance. In response to that, my weapon was a sword. “Damn it, I'm at a disadvantage,” I thought. Since ancient times, it’s been known that a sword cannot beat a syringe. “Mr. Georg, what exactly is in that syringe?” “It’s a drug to boost confidence. There might be temporary memory loss... but it’s nothing too serious, so there's no need to worry.” “Oh.” I abandoned hesitancy. Mr. Georg was clearly not himself. I had a vague idea why he was trying to inject me with that drug. A multitude of documents scattered on the floor. “You intend to make me put a stamp on my university application, don’t you?” “When you say it like that, it sounds like I’m being forceful. Don’t worry, with this drug, you’ll sign those documents of your own volition. Your handwriting will be steady and unfaltering.” “You’ve really made a terrifying drug. What on earth pushed you to such extremes?” “A curse called overwork and insomnia.” “Ah.” I steadied my sword. There was no need for mercy. Mr. Georg had already gone beyond the point of no return. “Teacher, I may not look like it, but I was a model student. Although I may not measure up to other nursery students' skills, I do hold a knightly title.” I'm weak. But strength is always relative. Against Mr. Georg, who is merely a researcher, I might stand a chance. “Let me show you what youth is all about.” “Sure, give it a shot... in my workshop!!” Staggering, Mr. Georg lunged at me like a madman. His movements were far from any systematically trained combat. He even slipped on the scattered papers on the floor. He kept charging at me, falling, and rising again, indistinctly. His movements were shaky. Yet, without feigning or pretenses, he thrust the syringe forward. Crack! Though a syringe is certainly a formidable weapon, its structure is fatally fragile. I swung my sword accurately towards the syringe in Mr. Georg’s hand, and it shattered easily. As long as the needle doesn’t pierce, it won’t harm me. No matter how potent the weapon may be, if the opponent is me, it’s inevitable. “I’m someone who’s walked away from the brink. There’s no way I’d fall for this. Just to be safe, I avoid contact with the drug inside the syringe. Even though he was holding it, who knows if just touching my skin might reveal its effects.” “...I see.” Mr. Georg looked down at the broken syringe in his hand with a sigh. His movements were still sluggish, as if he’d left his mind elsewhere. “You’re just tired, Mr. Georg. That’s what this is.” “Yes, I must have gotten weary...” Stagger. Mr. Georg began to sway side to side again. It was tough to watch that pitiful sight with open eyes... “Huh...?” It was me who was swaying, not Mr. Georg. The world began to blend like paint dropped into water. “Urgh?!” I dropped to my knees. By then, I realized I’d been affected by the drug. I was the one swaying, not Mr. Georg. Then when did it start? “Feeling dizzy? You’ll get used to it soon enough. If you find it tough, we can grab a coffee later.” “The drug was vaporized throughout the entire workshop from the start.” Mr. Georg himself must have been under its influence too. In that case, the antidote must be... coffee? “Hahaha! Wonderful, excellent. Keep it up, Johan. Once again, welcome to Ars Magna.” “D-damn...” Mr. Georg pulled out a new syringe from his pocket. It contained the same substance I had just destroyed. “It’s time to say goodbye to your gloomy and lethargic self! Johan, once you gain confidence, we can discuss your career path over a coffee.” The syringe approached. Damn it, if I get injected, it’s over! “You don’t have to worry about failing the exam. I’ll write you a recommendation letter.” “That does sound quite appealing, Mr. Georg. However...” Boom! At that moment, a loud explosion echoed throughout. A crimson afterimage moved through the cluttered space filled with desks and equipment without disturbing anything. At the end of the lightning-like trail stood a warrior with crimson hair blowing in the wind. “Johan has a prior engagement.” Robelia Vischers von Miltonia. She appeared and crushed the syringe that was about to pierce my neck in an instant, incinerating its contents. The drug was vaporized by the red lightning without leaving a single drop. A pungent odor spread momentarily. Crash! All the windows in the workshop shattered simultaneously, and fresh air flooded in, dispelling the noxious drug scent. “It would be best to ventilate the room. It might harm your health.” “...Greetings to the child of sacred blood.” Even Mr. Georg, it seemed, couldn’t cause a scene before royalty, as he immediately knelt. “No need for such formalities, Professor. This is the nursery, after all.” “Understood.” “Thank you.” As Mr. Georg bowed his head slightly and stood up, Robelia reciprocated with a smile. Perhaps she found it appealing that he understood her words directly since she's not fond of drawn-out conversations. “By the way, Your Highness. When you mentioned a prior engagement, could it mean...?” “Your speculations are correct. This friend here is... set to become an official in the imperial palace after graduation.” “Oh dear, poor thing.” “Pardon?” “I said ‘gloriously,’ of course.” “Well, I didn’t think Mr. Georg would consider serving the Imperial Household an honor; I must have misheard you.” “O-of course.” Mr. Georg, once a middle-aged scholar with charm and grace, now appeared as a craven lackey pledging loyalty to the Dark Lord. The elegance was long gone. He was a mere company man, bowing to survive. “Ah, Mr. Georg, could you leave us for a moment? I have something to discuss with Johan...” “I’ll return in three hours.” “Ten minutes will suffice.” “Yes.” With those words, Mr. Georg retreated backwards. A Haven for the True Sociable Being. After all, you can't argue with the one who holds the purse strings. "So, shall we have our chat?" "...But before that, Your Highness, could you perhaps make me a cup of coffee? It’s on the shelf over there." "...?" Robelia brushed her hair back. Her expression remained unchanged as if struck silent by disbelief. It was then I realized what I had just done. "Did you just... ask me to run an errand...?" "I misspoke. That wasn’t my intention at all..." "...You're quite something. I never anticipated such boldness. Why is my head feeling hot all of a sudden—is this love?" "No! I truly apologize, Your Highness! It's entirely my fault! Aaaaah!" Buzz! Crackle! Her immense anger took shape in the form of her unique power, the Crimson Lightning, manifesting with a threatening sizzle. "The antidote! It's mixed with the coffee beans!" "Haha… don't worry, I understand what you meant. However, I must say I feel quite peculiar about it, haha!" I might not survive the day at this rate. * * * Fortunately, Robelia didn’t retaliate against me. As expected of a magnificent sovereign, she wouldn’t get angry over trivial matters. "Thank you for your assistance, by the way." "Nothing to it; you’re a promising future official of the Empire after all." "Such a witty jest, Your Highness. Truly, you are unparalleled." "Wasn’t meant as a jest." Her response, more unnerving than if she'd said it wasn’t a joke, was strangely realistic. "We’ll discuss the matter of the contract later then..." Do we really need to discuss it later? It’d be nice if we could just skip that talk. For now, it’s best not to provoke her and hope it slips from her mind naturally. "I'm here to relay a message to you. The headmaster has summoned you to visit before class tomorrow." Olga Hermod summoning me was expected. Given the event last night, it makes sense to call in the involved parties. Formalities will be exchanged, and things will be neatly wrapped up. There were no casualties, and Olga Hermod likely doesn’t intend to blow it out of proportion. However, I was curious about something else. "Why is Her Highness relaying this message...?" Why is Robelia delivering this message herself? No matter how high the position of a headmaster, would they really use a princess to run errands? Well, perhaps given Olga Hermod’s level of power and authority, it’s possible. But it’s a move with more drawbacks than benefits, and knowing her, she wouldn’t overlook that. So, it’s likely Robelia’s personal decision. "If only you had even one friend, this message wouldn’t have landed on my lap." "Ah." Now that I think about it, it was the same at the beginning of the semester. It seems Her Highness Robelia has positioned herself as my sole friend. Did she use that as an excuse to visit me? If so, there might be another reason behind her visit. I need to make a friend soon. "I’m curious about what you and Ariel are hiding from me." "Wouldn’t it be faster to just ask Lady Ariel?" "I don’t wish to doubt a friend." Then what about me? Aren't I a friend too? "Ariel is not very skilled at disguising things. For her sake, I chose not to pry. Even among friends, one must respect privacy." "Your Highness, even beyond friendships, privacy should be respected..." It’s pointless to express grievances now. If that were the case, she wouldn't have initiated an investigation from the start. "Did you not learn anything at all?" "I didn’t ask." "I see." I thought of Ariel. Even just from a glance, you could tell she was the type whose emotions were evident in her every move. Surely, she would be prone to giving herself away under scrutiny. And maybe that’s why she successfully deceived Robelia—with a façade of being incapable of lying, hiding the one truly important deception among numerous uncovered ones. "Well, I have no reason to hide anything." But I am different from her. I don’t even understand why she’s keeping it hidden. If I were her, I would’ve clung to Robelia and asked for help to find a way out. However... "The last battle was quite dangerous. Melana—the traitor from Class F—used chains." I don’t intend to belittle Ariel by revealing the lie she’s holding onto so dearly. And who knows how much resentment I'd earn by betraying her trust? I don’t want to be one of those accidentally killed during training due to a stray spell. "The body couldn’t withstand it, but another variable named Jeff appeared. He seemed to have been swayed by cultist wordplay and received divine power, beginning to heal Melana’s necrotic body with it." I spun a lengthy explanation. It wasn’t the truth, but it was plausible. Divine power truly can heal even necrotic flesh, and the power of the chains, made up of twelve rings, would make anyone nervous, even Ariel. The story holds up. The essential part is: "I almost died." My face, my gestures, my movements, and my voice—all needed to convincingly portray this as truth. Ariel owes me a meal for this later. * * * After Robelia left, I slumped over my desk, heaving a sigh of relief. What a nerve-wracking moment. Her interrogations—masked but felt—were relentless, and choosing my words carefully had my head on the verge of explosion. But I managed to deceive her. Or maybe she knowingly allowed herself to be fooled, finding my nerve commendable. Either way, the secret was safe. Just when it felt like the stormy day had come to an end, my real work hadn't even begun. "Oh, are you guys done talking?" "...Get your act together, Mr. Georg. Trying to abduct a student? If you didn’t have such skill, I’d have reported you to the Chairperson." If he weren’t truly skilled, I’d have shut this workshop down in a heartbeat. But given his skill, I can’t ignore it. I still need his help to create medicine to cure Ariel’s condition. "Yes, yes. Already starting to oppress researchers since you’re going to be an imperial official, huh. Just like a dog." "Okay, enough of that. Can you take a look at this? What I’m trying to research is..." "The Great Magician’s Disease, right? Or do they call it the Transcendence Disease these days? You’re resuming it now, I see." "...I've never researched it here before. How did you know?" "I took a peek at that precious notebook you always carry around with you." "That's an invasion of privacy." "Why leave it behind then? If it was so important, you should have taken it when you left the workshop." He had a point. But how could I have known I’d be resuming a research project I thought I’d abandoned? "Anyway, the research itself was quite intriguing. The theory was lacking, but the passion was palpable. Or was it an obsession?" "You can tell even that?" "Yeah." Mr. Georg pulled up a chair beside me and said, "There were tear stains." "Spit stains." "Did you analyze the composition?" "No, why on earth would you do that?" "Just to mess with you, why else, you little rascal." He’s truly gone off the deep end. "Anyway, I quite liked it. Kids these days lack daring, but you're either unbelievably brave or just brainless, thinking this budget would just materialize..." "Yet, it does at the nursery." "Exactly." Just like when I researched to save my brother Chris. Throw enough money at it, and you might find a solution. Of course, you might not. Worst case, an astronomical amount of money just vanishes into thin air. Still, that’s fine. "And how can a researcher let a budget barrier hinder their work?" It’s not my money, after all.