25 - The Victim of the Academy

Eye of the Storm (3) The research began. Contrary to his initial impression, Mr. Georg played his teacher role well, and I absorbed his knowledge and advice, investing heavily in the project. Day 1. By the time I returned to the dormitory, I was utterly exhausted and collapsed into bed half-conscious. The next day, I woke up earlier than usual—not because I was naturally diligent. “Ugh, I don’t want to go out.” My head throbbed. The fatigue didn’t completely fade. Yet, before class starts today, I must face the interrogation from Olga Hermod, the chairperson. Shouldn’t she be the one apologizing instead? I mean, if she had believed me when I said there was a traitor in Class F, things wouldn’t have escalated this far. Moreover, she was the one who failed to notice the sinister intentions of the cult and allowed them into the Cradle. Bearing such grievances, I visited the chairperson’s office, where Olga Hermod greeted me with her usual stern expression. “You seem tired.” “I’ve been devoting myself to my studies.” “Then can I expect good grades next semester?” I just shrugged. That should suffice for greetings. “Let’s get to the point. Isn’t the recent incident why you called me?” This time, it was an internal affair within the Cradle. Though on a small scale with few victims, a terror act is a terror act nonetheless. Olga Hermod courteously served me a cup of coffee. It felt unsettling, given her age. However, depending on her future responses, I wouldn’t care about politeness. If she dares, I’ll show her what real fury is. “Yes, but before anything else, I must apologize. I’m sorry for the distress caused by our negligence, Johan.” It was an appropriate response. While I could have exploded in anger, I understood Olga Hermod’s difficult circumstances. The Cradle was already in shambles. The existing security system was as good as non-existent, now patched up by sheer manpower. Managing and supervising this vast academy alone was an impossible task for Olga Hermod. “I understand.” Until a proper security system is established, she must single-handedly protect the entire Cradle. The current situation arose due to her name as an archmage and her goodwill. Already, the archmage standing before me deserves to be called a monster for successfully holding off external threats. “It would have been nice if you had listened a bit more to my words.” Thus, I voiced a minor complaint. If she had taken me seriously when I mentioned the Under Chain targeting me, this wouldn’t have happened. “There’s a bit of misunderstanding there. I didn’t ignore your words, Johan.” “…?” What’s this? Is she making excuses now after already apologizing for previous matters? Is she trying to pick a fight? “I listened to your concerns and took measures to protect you. But…” Olga Hermod squinted her eyes and gazed at me. “Despite saying you were uneasy, you seem to be spending a lot of time with her lately…” She was referring to Yuna. Not long after confiding in Olga Hermod, I realized Yuna’s true identity and opened up to her. “And in the end, the spies from Under Chain were Melana and Jeff, weren’t they?” “…” I never mentioned Melana and Jeff to Olga Hermod. I was preoccupied back then with confirming Yuna’s identity. Re-evaluating the situation, I thought about how my actions must have looked. “…Forget what I just said.” Damn it, I felt like throwing up. My actions were no different from a teenage boy harassing a girl he liked. “What conversation did we have again?” Her deft politeness only made it more painful. “Then getting to the point, could you explain in detail the incident that happened that night?” I recounted the events. The content mirrored what I had told Robelia. Melana using chains and Jeff aiding her—it all fit together. It was merely a matter of sequence and perspective. After listening to my elaborate lie, Olga Hermod placed her teacup down and crossed her arms. I managed to deceive Robelia, but can I fool an archmage? No, I shouldn’t think this way. As long as Ariel and I kept quiet, everyone could only speculate. “I understand. So that’s why Ariel approached you, Johan…” “Pardon?” What’s this? Something seems off. Isn't her perspective slightly skewed? “I understand youthful passions can be difficult to control, but please ensure not to hurt the tender feelings of the young students.” “What are you talking about?” Are you insane? “No, it’s nothing yet. Given the circumstances… though I hope it doesn’t happen, if it turns into a love triangle, it might cause significant pain to someone…” “Are you seriously out of your mind?” “Hmm, hmm… That was a slip of the tongue.” “Oh my God.” Truly, oh my God. What is this crazy old woman thinking? Does she intend to cement my place as part of a youthful romance? “…If the conversation is over, may I leave?” “Ah, I seem to have kept you too long. Please, feel free to go.” Continued conversation with her might deteriorate my sanity. How does she managed to entangle me with the riskiest individuals? It was genuinely horrifying. “And we will work harder to prevent such incidents in the future, so please enjoy your school life to the fullest.” “…” Yet, despite it all, my mood wasn’t entirely sour. Perhaps… no, certainly. Olga Hermod alone sees the worn-out students of the Cradle as children deserving protection. * * * During class. I slept. It's a common occurrence. It's not like I usually pay attention in class anyway. Pouring all my focus into creating a cure for Ariel’s ailment left me exhausted beyond help. After a good nap, Yuna was in front of my eyes. "What time is it, Yuna?" "Class is just out." "Perfect timing. Thanks for waking me up." "So, do you want to be my disciple?" "If being your disciple is so easy to obtain, then I'll pass." "Then... um... what do I have to say to entice you?" What do you mean, entice? I'm just not interested. I stood up and did a light stretch. Skipping lunch and sleeping from the first period took its toll on my body. My arms were stiff, and my back was sore. I can't believe I slept so openly and no one bothered me... Perhaps being labeled as 'noble' in Class F makes them hesitant to disturb me. Out of courtesy, I suppose I should pretend to be dozing instead of outright sleeping next time. "Let’s see... It might be a good time to go check something out." "Where are you headed today? To the alchemy workshop for experiments?" "You really know all my moves, don’t you?" "Hehe! It’s just basic knowledge." Is that stalker knowledge? Well, it was my own mistake to expect rational thinking from Yuna. "I’m off to observe the cult. More specifically, I want to see him leave the Cradle with my own eyes." Because of that bastard, I still can’t sleep peacefully at night. I’m left in the dark about what he’s planning, so I have no choice. He’s a potential threat. One that’s difficult to predict the shape of. "Your paranoia is off the charts!" "Not paranoia—just common sense." Who wouldn’t be uneasy knowing a terrorist is nearby? At least until I confirm the terrorist has left, I can’t relax. "But Johan, isn’t there something you should do first?" "Me? I’ve never really had a schedule to stick to." "You need to eat!" "...That's true." It was only after Yuna's reminder that I realized how hungry I was. Considering I skipped lunch to sleep, it made sense. "Let’s go to a café near the main gate and grab something to eat while we wait." "Sounds good!" Yuna beamed at me as she spoke. Why does she insist on having meals together with me? It’s a bit much. * * * I chose a café with a view of the main gate from its second floor. Now, sitting by the window, I can observe the gate. Though Yuna acted like we were going to eat together, she disappeared halfway through. What’s this? Why do I suddenly feel annoyed? Her presence was bothersome, but now that she's gone, I feel kind of stood up. In my disgruntled mood, waiting for the cult's departure, I heard: "You don’t look pleased." "...Oh no." The cult sat in front of me. Darn, it’s as though he’s figured me out. With just a brief encounter and conversation, he seems to understand what kind of person I am. I was hoping to watch him leave, yet here I am, seemingly trapped in verbal sparring once more. "Wasn’t our conversation last time supposed to be our last?" "A little small talk doesn't hurt, does it? This time, I’ve come with words of caution... or should I say, a warning." "...." Whatever he has to say, I have no intention of lending an ear. Besides, I plan to stay within the Cradle until graduation, so his warnings or whatever don’t concern me. "You’re aware I came here under the guise of a counselor, right?" "Yes, and because of that nonsense, I ended up in this state." If it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't have involved myself in Ariel's sickness, and I wouldn't be burning the midnight oil experimenting. And now, thanks to him, I feel like death. No matter how much I sleep, my thoughts leave my head pounding. "Was your term extended or something?" "If it had been extended, I wouldn't need to give you a warning now, would I?" The cult flashed a smile. Is this guy seriously smiling while pretending to issue a warning? "Regardless, I put quite an effort in. Even though I had my motives, considering the impact on society, I did my best in the counseling sessions." "And did you manage to fix any of those lunatics?" "It’s a bit late for that. Without a miracle, that is. Still, perhaps my words offered them some small comfort?" With his divine blessings, the cult could have achieved complete cures, but he claims he exerted the utmost effort within normal parameters. Based on his words, some might have found solace. Whatever is said, the cult is a prophet blessed by the divine. "As a result, it seems the chairperson believes this invitation was a success." Inviting the cult to counsel the students proved effective. I wondered how Olga Hermod, a righteous adult who cares for the students, would perceive this? "They plan on inviting other notable figures. I’m concerned some maniac, akin to the Ex Machina, might slip through." "Wonderful." The notion that terrorists might integrate from outside is troubling, but the opposite holds true as well. Key figures deeply enmeshed in the main story. Centers of turmoil. Should such renowned figures enter the Cradle, the chaos associated with them might also follow. The fact that numerous terrorist groups aren’t attacking the Cradle is simply a matter of cost-benefit. They’re holding back because the losses outweigh potential gains. However, there exist individuals who, for the sake of vengeance, disregard both bystanders and future repercussions. And during an era of war. There were countless such individuals. "Well, it looks like my friend is calling for me, so I'll be off now, Johan. Hopefully, next time we can converse under more pleasant conditions." "...." I didn’t say a word. Yet, as the cult member beamed and exited the café, he approached Dietrich, who was lingering by the main gate. As soon as their eyes met, they grinned mischievously at each other. “...Even that guy has friends.” Why don’t I? * * * Having returned to the Marquisate, Cult Ereticus was immediately engrossed in compiling a list of potential successors. Those contacted by Olga Hermod—individuals under scrutiny by the royal family and those with many adversaries amongst them. After thorough examination and investigation, Cult discovered the outsider who would replace him at the Cradle. Upon seeing the name, Cult couldn’t help but let out a mirthless laugh. “Brother, what are you looking at?” “Hmm? Ah, Helena? Is it alright for you to be up and about today?” “Yes, I’m feeling well today.” Cult smiled at the appearance of the girl peeking through his door while he was reading his documents. Helena was the daughter the Marquis of Ereticus was determined to save at all costs. Cult, who had saved her from an unknown fever through divine intervention, gained the backing of the Marquisate of Ereticus as recompense. “Can I see?” “Of course, Helena.” She was an adorable child. Even Cult thought so. Cult gently placed Helena on his lap. Her hair, white as his, fluttered like sunlight as she smiled brightly. So striking was the resemblance that anyone would mistake them for sibling kin. “What is this?” “Well... you remember I recently visited the Cradle, right? I was just reviewing what happened.” Cult explained the individuals he was looking into, in terms Helena could understand. “A... Saint Tilles? What does ‘saint’ mean?” “Well, it’s a term laden with religious nuance, making it difficult to explain. However, being called a saint in her case might not align with the dictionary definition.” Cult inwardly scoffed. A saint? Isn’t it laughable? The woman named Tilles neither subscribes to any religion nor merits the title 'saint' through any grand achievements. While she did wander through slums volunteering, it wasn't extraordinary enough to warrant such a title. The sole reason she’s called a saint is purely one thing. “She’s the last remaining high elf in this world.” Simply for embodying the race and appearance befitting the title. * * * A woman wearing a wide robe with a hood drawn low entered the Cradle. Passersby frowned at the suspicious appearance, keeping their distance, but it didn’t take long for their perception to change. “Ah!” Someone unconsciously gasped at the sight of the woman sweeping back her hood. Shimmering silver hair. Eyes holding the freshness of green. And pointed ears. The soft smile at her lips naturally encouraged others to smile back. "So, this is the Cradle." The guest who had come to the Cradle. Saint, Tilles, clasped her hands in wonder. “What a place abundant with the spirit’s energy!” The eye of the storm had entered the Cradle.