“Father said you should stop by.”
“Me? Why?”
“They’re about to start selling that, but there are a few things to discuss beforehand.”
So it’s about the mana stone.
“Got it. Tell him I’ll come by soon.”
Arsian gave a small nod and immediately turned away. Watching him go, Camilla let out a short laugh again.
‘So he does talk a little now?’
He’s even delivering messages himself.
When the Duke of Sephra visited the Sorpel estate, he’d spoken with her briefly out of others’ sight.
He said he’d heard Sier had departed—that he’d heard from Arsian the child left with a smile—and the Duke of Sephra opened his mouth, heavy-voiced.
‘Thank you.’
It was only that one very short line, but it was enough for Camilla to understand.
The reason the Duke of Sephra had come all the way here wasn’t only the Guardian.
“Miss Camilla!”
A bright voice flew in from somewhere. Laila.
As always, she ran straight to Camilla, beaming.
“Congratulations! First place! I’m so proud I could burst! I want to go home and brag to my parents—that my friend took first!”
The scary part was that she meant it.
And yet...
“Friend?”
“Ah...!”
Laila’s face flushed crimson in an instant.
‘Friend.’
What a foreign word.
She’d never once said it, not back in school in the other world, not in the entertainment world.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, this? You seemed to like it last time, so I made some butter and jam.”
Smiling, Laila handed her a box. When Camilla opened it, it held exactly what Laila said—butter and strawberry jam and the like, packed full.
‘Ferrol will love this.’
When she’d delivered the desserts Laila made last time, he’d practically cried with joy.
First he was moved by the simple fact of tasting food again after so long, and then he shed tears a second time at the rich flavor she had coaxed out.
“Oh my, it’s Professor J.B.”
“He’s back!”
“Is he well again?”
A commotion rose at one end. From the far end of the corridor, squeals and delighted chatter from the girls spread down the hall.
“Looks like Professor J.B. is back.”
Laila beside her smiled as well.
Professor J.B.—the second-year history professor. Mid-twenties, extremely popular with students.
Gentle temperament, exceptionally kind to students. His classes were engaging, and, above all... he was incredibly handsome!
Hence he was especially popular with the girls.
He’d been absent from the Academy for several days with a severe “bad flu,” and now, a week later, he showed himself again.
Students crowded around him, greeting him warmly.
“I’m glad you look well.”
Laila clapped her hands, delighted he’d returned.
“Has everyone been well?”
“Yes!”
“Professor, we missed you so much!”
“Are you feeling all right?”
“Thanks to you, I’m fine now. Sorry to have worried you.”
As always, he met each student’s eyes and spoke with them one by one.
“Another one added.”
“Pardon?”
At the softly murmured line, Laila looked at Camilla.
But Camilla’s gaze was still fixed on Professor J.B., as if she hadn’t been speaking to Laila at all.
She said something had increased—what had increased?
“...”
Camilla said nothing more after that, lips sealing shut.
****
“Brother, are you busy?”
“...Not busy. Not busy!”
Ravi stared at Camilla, who cracked the door and asked the same question as last time.
What in the world was she doing since the other day? Why even ask if she wouldn’t listen when he said he was busy!
“What now.”
“So, you know.”
“Know what.”
“There’s a murderer.”
“...What?”
“No, no. Not about me—”
“Speak clearly! This really has nothing to do with you?”
Camilla, who had opened lightly, was a bit taken aback—Ravi’s reaction was fiercer than she’d expected.
She’d come to him because, of anyone in this family, he was the least interested in her affairs, so she came in a light mood.
“You saw something again, didn’t you?”
“Huh?”
“You saw something weird again, didn’t you!”
“I didn’t.”
Annoyingly sharp intuition, this man.
“Really not?”
“Yeah.”
“...”
Even with her denial, Ravi didn’t easily withdraw that keen stare.
‘Truly unexpected.’
She just needed some advice.
She wanted to hear how people here thought about murder, what punishments were handed down.
She’d watched this place for a long time, but she’d had no point of contact with a murderer.
“I’m warning you again—don’t do anything dangerous alone. This time Father won’t forgive you.”
He meant when she’d dived into the lake to retrieve the Guardian’s egg.
Ravi kept sending her ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ a look full of suspicion—‘Is she about to step into danger again claiming she saw something in a dream?’
“It’s about someone I know.”
“Who?”
“Would naming them mean anything to you?”
“So what? Why even bring this up? A murderer? Is that something you just toss out there?”
“My friend noticed someone strange.”
“You don’t have any friends.”
“...”
Jerk.
Worse was that she couldn’t even refute it.
“Keep going.”
“That friend found out by chance that someone they know is a murderer. So—”
“Tell them to report it.”
Ravi’s answer came at once, as if there was nothing to mull over.
“They don’t have evidence.”
“If there’s no evidence, how do they know that person’s a murderer?”
“Mm... call it a gut feeling?”
“Are you kidding me? How do you spot a murderer with a gut feeling?”
“No physical evidence, but the mental evidence is too solid, is the idea.”
“And?”
“People keep ending up dead, but they don’t know what to do.”
“Is this person close with the murderer?”
“No.”
“Any chance they’ll be the murderer’s next target?”
“Not particularly?”
“Tell them to drop it.”
“Huh?”
“Look the other way.”
“But it’s a murderer. What if someone else dies?”
“You said there’s no evidence.”
“Yeah.”
“Then they can’t even report it. Don’t take needless risks; playing dumb is best. If a murder occurs, the Guards will investigate—just leave it.”
So that was the right course, wasn’t it?
Camilla nodded.
The unease didn’t vanish, but the more she thought about it, the more his words seemed right.
Even if you witnessed the scene of the crime, how many could report it on the spot?
If your safety were absolutely guaranteed, or if there were a good chance the murderer would be caught soon—then, sure, you could report.
‘But if not?’
If evidence was lacking and all you did was draw the murderer’s attention and get yourself marked?
‘Staying still is the answer.’
This wasn’t just anything; it was something that could entangle you with a murderer. Camilla firmed her resolve.
Thud.
“What’s that?”
“Picked it up on the way.”
Standing, Camilla tossed a small box onto Ravi’s desk.
He opened it, puzzled—then stared into it, blank, for a time.
Inside lay a small brooch. A silver fox.
“How is it? Pretty, right?”
“...Can’t say I’d have much use for it.”
“Then give it back!”
When Camilla reached to snatch it, Ravi whisked the brooch aside.
‘Honestly, the way he talks!’
Watching him, Camilla clicked her tongue softly.
“Why a fox?”
“Huh?”
“Why a fox.”
At Ravi’s question, Camilla’s eyes lost their place.
“I’m going.”
She bolted at once. She couldn’t exactly say, Because you’re a little fox.
“What’s with her?”
Ravi watched her go, bemused, then looked back down at the gift box.
“Pointless nonsense...”
He kept grumbling, but he didn’t realize the corner of his mouth had softened into a faint arc.
****
“Welcome, Miss Camilla.”
God’s little joke?
‘I already have plenty of complaints with you.’
You damned bastard god.
Camilla let out a small sigh. Just looking at the face of the man sitting across from her made it leak out.
‘After all that resolve.’
Even this morning she’d sworn, and sworn again, to follow Ravi’s advice and absolutely not get involved.
Pretend not to see, pretend not to hear.
‘And yet...’
Why did she have to be facing this man right now.
“I called you today because of the assignment you turned in last time.”
“Assignment?”
Girls coming and going from the staff room were looking at her with envy.
Because the man seated across from her, steering the conversation with a kindly smile, was Professor J.B. himself.
“What about my assignment? Did I do something wrong?”
“No.”
Professor J.B. shook his head quickly.
“Quite the opposite—it was so perfect I wanted to see you.”
“Pardon?”
“I was wondering if I might use the historical materials you attached.”
Thanks to the Duke of Sorpel and Ravi—who had a hobby of collecting old or rare books—the ducal library held many volumes you couldn’t easily find elsewhere.
So she’d been able to complete this history assignment—researching a nation, city, or race that once existed and has now vanished—perfectly.
She’d wrapped it up with sources not widely known, and it seemed to have caught his eye.
“Go ahead, as you please.”
“Ah! Thank you so much.”
“Is that all?”
“Might I see the originals of the materials attached to your assignment?”
“That’s difficult. They’re books Father treasures.”
“Ah... what a shame.”
His face turned pitiful in an instant.
“Could you give me even a little help?”
“Help?”
“Yes. Since you’ve read them all, you could be of great help to my research. As far as I know, those books can hardly be found anywhere on the continent now. That’s why I’m asking.”
Professor J.B.’s eyes were very earnest.
“You’re not pressuring me, right?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I refuse.”
