After handling this small delay, Cyril finally reached the infirmary.
The moment he entered it, Cyril was greeted with a kind voice: “It’s you again, young man.”
The same healer from before slowly walked up to him.
“Did you drink the potion I gave you?” she asked, scanning his face with scrutiny.
I didn’t.
Cyril didn’t say anything about that, only keeping a straight face.
“Because we don’t need it, old hag.
We aren’t crazy.”
“How is the progress with what you’ve told me?” Cyril asked instead.
The old woman glared at him, then walked back to her desk, taking a seat.
“We came to a consensus that it’s stress-related.
No need to worry.
It will go away once you acclimate.”
Cyril calmly nodded, to which the old woman raised an eyebrow.
“You are taking this well.
Last time I told you this, your face was quite scary.”
Was it?
“Rude.”
Cyril couldn’t help but touch his face.
He didn’t see what the difference was between now and then.
He shook his head and finally asked what he was curious about, “Thank you for your effort.
Can you tell me which professors were present when you consulted?”
The woman waved her hand in dismissal.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t told them it’s you.”
“But to answer your question, it was all of them.
Everyone here cares about the students.”
She said it proudly, with a warm smile.
Though it only made Cyril freeze.
…All of them?
Seeing his surprise, the healer smiled knowingly.
“You must be thinking, ‘How could it have been done?’ right?
There are so many professors here.
Surely it’s impossible to gather all of them so effortlessly.”
Her face was gradually becoming more passionate.
“This is all thanks to the head of our academy, Headmistress Margaret.
With her illusion magic and a bit of preparation, people can communicate at long distances without any delay between the messages.
It’s like talking to someone face-to-face!”
She continued speaking with enthusiasm, going into precise details of their academy’s operation.
Cyril didn’t care about any of that.
Listening on the surface, he quickly started thinking about the implications of her words.
Now what?
Every professor in Ailanthus is a suspect.
“That’s a lot.
We don’t have the time to go through every one… I know!” Rhamn’s face lit up.
“My bet is on the headmistress Margaret!”
Pretending to listen to the old healer’s passionate speech, Cyril subtly glanced at Rhamn.
As he thought about her words, the headmistress suddenly seemed like the most fitting suspect.
Margaret was a name he knew.
In fact, every self-respecting citizen of the Empire most likely knew that name.
Her contributions to magic were innumerable.
She was the reason why, despite being so far from the center, Ailanthus was still considered a prestigious academy.
Just her presence alone was enough to attract curious mages from all over the city.
“That’s right!
Only such an important person is worthy of being our suspect!
I knew you would agree with me!”
That’s not why!
Cyril’s eye twitched as he took a quiet breath.
As the old healer said and keeps on saying, one of Margaret’s wonders was illusion magic.
It was thanks to it that they were able to view ghouls during demonology almost like in person.
And no doubt, it allows one to do something simple, such as creating a letter.
“…So I am still right, aren’t I?”
Enough.
Cyril refocused on the healer’s speech, a new question now on his mind.
“…students are so fortunate to be able to learn-”
“The headmistress is indeed someone we should respect.” Cyril interrupted the speech.
“Is it possible for me to meet her?”
The old woman swallowed her next words, then coughed a few times, clearing her throat.
“I went on for a bit too long.
Forgive me.” She sighed and continued.
“Unfortunately, you won’t be able to meet her now.
During the meeting she mentioned going somewhere far away.”
Is it just a coincidence?
Cyril frowned, finding the timing of her departure suspicious.
“When will she be back?”
“No one knows.
Honestly, she is rarely in the academy.
It could be months before I see her face-to-face again.”
Really…?
“What does a headmistress even do?
Is she allowed to be like that?”
“Can’t I still see her?
You’ve told me it’s possible even over long distances,” Cyril asked, still not giving up.
However, the healer’s awkward face already told him everything.
The old woman shrugged her shoulders before replying, “Sorry, she said she would be out of the range of contact.”
“I see…”
Cyril went quiet for a moment.
It seems this was a dead end, for now.
“Then, another thing.
Could you do another checkup for me?
I think I’ve eaten something bad today.”
At the first half of his sentence, the healer tensed up, expecting another difficult curveball her way.
But upon hearing it was probably simple food poisoning, her face lit up.
“Of course!
Stay there.
I’ll check for you quickly!”
With a relaxed face, the healer aimed her hand at him.
After a single spell, she smiled wider and shook her head.
“You worry too much, young man.
You are completely fine.”
“…Is that so?
Thank you.”
Cyril bowed, not insisting on any further checks.
Hopefully, she is right.
He turned around, about to walk out of the infirmary.
“Wait for a moment, please.”
The old woman got up from her chair, slowly approaching him with a kindly face.
He silently looked at her, awaiting her words.
“It better not be anything about stress again!”
The old healer took a sigh and smiled.
“Young man, it’s my belief that even the strongest of us are still susceptible to the plight of the common man.
Being strong is not about lacking weaknesses.”
“Ugh…
Just leave.
Don’t listen to her rubbish.”
Cyril remained standing, his face keeping the same expression as before.
Nevertheless, the healer continued, her smile turning kinder.
“It’s not a shameful thing to admit weakness.
I even think they are what make us human.”
“I see,” Cyril mumbled.
Then without any other words, he turned around and left.
The healer could only shake her head at the sight.
…
“What a stuck-up old hag.
‘They are what make us human.’ How very philosophical indeed!
Thank you for your help, oh enlightened being.”
Cyril returned to his room, taking a seat on his bed.
The matter about the letter somehow took a back seat in his mind.
What lingered instead was a rather displeasing thought.
What if the healer’s words were right?
What if Rhamn was actually just a hallucination?
“I am not.
I am real.”
He didn’t think hallucinations could be so complex, so believable, but don’t all crazy people believe in what they see?
“You are not crazy.”
Maybe even that letter was not actually there?
Maybe it was just his mind racing to create some evidence to calm him down.
“That’s also real- I mean an illusion- real illusion- no, you get it!”
Be quiet for a moment.
“…” Rhamn awkwardly took a seat on the nearby chair.
She fidgeted with her black hair, her red eyes worriedly observing Cyril’s contemplation.
Cyril looked at the potion bottle standing on his desk.
The healer’s prescription remained unopened for now.
Am I stressed?
The thought appeared perplexing.
Why would he be stressed?
He had the talent, he had the resources, and he had the time.
His path in life was as clear as it could be.
And now he finally left the family’s mansion.
It should’ve been the best time of his life right now.
It doesn’t make any logical sense for him to be stressed.
He was not weak.
This is ridiculous.
Finding it extremely disagreeable, Cyril looked at Rhamn nearby with a sense of urgency in his blue eyes.
Back when I felt that chest pain, you said you moved.
Can you do it again?
Rhamn flinched in the chair.
She began waving her arms around in complete denial.
“No, I can’t do that.
That’s incredibly painful to you!”
It’s bearable.
Finding proof of his own sanity was way more important than some meager pain.
If Rhamn could show something extraordinary, that would be good enough proof for him.
“…I don’t know how to do that.
I said I moved, but I don’t know how to repeat it.
It just happened.”
Rhamn looked away, her back lowering under his almost hopeful eyes.
I see.
The day of studies flashed past in his mind.
Rhamn’s words and actions were all replayed in front of him.
She never performed anything that affected the world around, nor did she seem to know anything that he himself wouldn’t be privy to.
Didn’t she help during lessons?
Together we solved an equation I couldn’t on my own.
…No, this doesn’t prove anything.
It’s still me solving it at the end of the day.
Not like she came up with any new knowledge there.
The idea that she might be a part of his psyche gradually became more believable.
Thinking further, the things she said started to be painted in a new light for him.
Is Rhamn just saying things I am subconsciously thinking?
She was brash, arrogant, impulsive, and incredibly childish.
She was fuming, while he convinced himself he didn’t care.
She was happy with results he thought were nothing special.
The more Cyril thought, the more obvious the frown on his face became.
Eventually he just sat there, motionless for a few seconds.
Rhamn fidgeted in her seat, obviously raring to say something but holding herself back.
Objection was written all over her beautiful face.
Cyril looked into her red eyes, his frown replaced by an exhausted blankness.
…And why is she a woman?
Shouldn’t another personality be of the same gender?
Maybe not?
Or is it me secretly desiring to have a beautiful woman by my side?
But I’ve never felt the need for a lover before…
He silently contemplated until some time had passed.
The clock on the wall had struck another hour when he shook his head.
It’s pointless to think about it now.
He might be crazy.
He might not be.
He wasted enough time already.
He had to do something about his situation.
Maybe it would be worth it to try the healer’s solution.
What’s the worst that could happen?
His gaze returned to the unopened bottle on the table.
Relaxation and drugs are supposedly a good solution to stress.
Ah.
Cyril got up from the bed, remembering something.
He seems to have said to Edmund he would join him in the park.
Another wave of exhaustion hit him at this moment.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have agreed to that so readily.
At this moment Rhamn jumped into his field of vision, motioning towards her mouth in an unzipping motion.
…Yes.
“I disagree with everything you just said.” Rhamn pointed at him with a complaint.
“…Aside from calling me beautiful.
That is indeed the truth.”
Cyril only stared at her with a helpless expression.
There was no way this red-eyed creature was a side of his psyche, right?
…
The temptation to just not go was strong, but since he already agreed to it, Cyril won’t break his word.
And since he was supposed to be drinking tonight, he didn’t consume the healer’s potion.
It was already dark outside, the moon hanging high above him.
Today, there were a few students still walking the grounds.
Ignoring all of them, Cyril headed towards the small park located right near his own dormitory.
It was actually visible out of his room’s window.
Admittedly, he was a bit curious about the park himself.
He couldn’t remember the last time he saw so much green in one place.
Maybe it will help him relax somewhat?
“You.
Are.
Not.
Crazy!”
He ignored her.
Cyril passed the entrance of the park and passed the bench where he possibly found the letter.
Trying to not think about it, Cyril slowly explored the place.
Even Rhamn’s complaint-filled face soon grew more joyful as she observed the flowers and the trees around.
“It’s relaxing in here.
Perfect for walks~”
Maybe.
After strolling for a few minutes, Cyril found a gazebo.
Inside, there were a few people gathered by the table.
Edmund, hugging a bottle of Magnolia, sat on one side, politely smiling at the people across from him.
Facing him with distrustful expressions were two people.
The first was Myra, her arms crossed and eyes sharp.
What surprised Cyril was the person sitting by her side.
With a reserved expression, hands on her knees, was Rose Briar.
She actually came…
And brought Briar with her?
Cyril slowly walked up to them, the group noticing him as he did so.
The moment Edmund’s eyes landed on him, his face lit up, as if seeing his savior.
“Ah!
You are just in time!
Sit, sit!” he mumbled, patting the seat by his side.
Myra waved to him in greeting, her face losing all its sharpness.
Cyril nodded to her, then glanced at Rose Briar.
This girl with brown hair and blue eyes lightly bowed her head, keeping her back straight.
“Nice to meet you.
Myra convinced me to come.
I hope you don’t mind.”
Her voice was calm.
She spoke like a respectable professor participating in a scientific gathering.
How this intellectual-looking girl agreed to drinking under the moon was unknown to Cyril.
Myra is more convincing than she looks…
“Or maybe Rose is just a pushover.”
It doesn’t matter to me.
Let’s just get this over with.
“Nice to meet you,” Cyril briefly replied, taking a seat near Edmund.
Seeing the introductions quickly pass, Edmund impatiently raised the bottle in his hands.
With clearly practiced movements, Edmund poured each and every one of them a cup.
“So you really want to drink in the middle of the park?” Rose asked with a frown.
“What’s wrong with it?” Edmund replied, his movements uninterrupted.
“Alcohol is an evil substance that turns good people into wastes,” said Rose, her frown deepening.
“Besides, we are not of age yet!”
Edmund froze, his face slowly turning awkward.
He glanced at the brown-haired girl for a few seconds, then shrugged.
“We are just going to relax a tiny bit.
No one’s going to drink themselves under the table.”
But upon seeing Rose’s frown undiminished, he pointed towards the bottle in his hand with a helpless face.
“Alright.
How about this then: this is not an alcoholic beverage.
It’s actually a special juice enhanced with mana!
It only has a side effect that’s a little similar to regular drunkenness.
So, it’s fine for us to drink it.”
“Is that true?”
“…If that makes you feel better, then yes.”
Rose’s face turned blank, staring at Edmund as if at a fool.
“I also want to mention Magnolia is rumored to have a positive effect on mana control, so mages frequently drink it.”
Rose stared at the bottle, temptation showing in her gaze.
“Fine.”
Edmund nodded with satisfaction.
“Let’s begin.
Just relax, drink, and talk about our studies.
I’ll start!”
Edmund greedily took a gulp, his eyes immediately relaxing, and began narrating all that plagued this noble young master these few days.
Cyril didn’t fully listen, focusing on the drink in front of him.
He never actually tried anything like this, so he curiously took a sip from the glass.
It tasted better than he thought, like an actual refreshing cup of juice.
He glanced at Myra, who kept quiet in front of him.
She too took a sip at this moment.
Though her face twisted as if she just ate a particularly sour lemon.
Noticing his gaze, she quickly regained her composure and smiled.
Rose, too, frowned as she took a sip.
It seems their tastes differed greatly.
And so, occasionally taking a sip, Cyril patiently listened to the whining of his old acquaintance.
Surely, this would be over soon, as they didn’t plan to ‘drink themselves under the table.’
…
It wasn’t over soon.
After one came another, and after another came more.
Edmund had a lot to talk about.
He complained about the schedule, complained about the lack of servants, and complained about the difficulty of study.
But the more he spoke, or rather, the more he drank, the more spirited he became.
“I’ve had enough!” Edmund exclaimed, slamming the empty cup on the table.
“That’s it!
Dad is right!
Sixteen years old and still so weak.
It’s time to change!
I’ll become a new me!
I’ll do what they want.
It’s going to be easy!”
He burned with motivation.
His eyes sparkled so much that even his eye bags became less visible.
“Good luck,” Cyril quietly said, his face blank.
Let’s see how long this lasts.
“Thank you…” Edmund replied.
Then, he looked at Cyril with realization.
“Ah, right.
Cyril, is there anything you want to say?
How is our famous cold-hearted young master doing?”
Not expecting the question to land on him, Cyril remained silent for a moment.
He heard that sharing troubles with a friend was supposed to make them lighter.
Edmund seemed to believe that fully.
“Things are going well,” he said casually.
Of course it wasn’t the truth, but the truth wasn’t their business.
He wasn’t nearly close enough with Edmund for that, not to mention the rest of the participants of this gathering.
Despite acting so familiar, Edmund hasn’t talked much to Cyril in the past.
The only reason for his current friendliness is his unfortunate circumstance.
The pressure of finally leaving his spoiled life turned Edmund into a drowning man clutching onto whatever floated nearby.
Cyril was only a familiar face for him.
Once he acclimates to his new life, this shall pass.
And then, this noble would definitely use whatever advantage he has over Cyril for his benefit.
For nobles, friendship is only a tool.
Or maybe that’s just humans as a whole.
Not that there was anything wrong with that.
People survive whichever way they can.
Myra was likely here to get closer to him for money, connections, or some specific goal.
Rose was eager to compare herself to other high-achieving students.
None of them were here for any pure reason.
At least that was what Cyril thought.
“So true!
Before they can cut you off, do that first!
We don’t need such weak-willed friends!”
Cyril shook off the stray thoughts, focusing back on the conversations in front of him.
…
“The butterflies are actually impressive creatures, did you know?” Rose mumbled, her face flushed red.
She pointed at the bottle of magnolia in her hands, her whole body shaking back and forth.
Unexpectedly, this studious girl has also fallen under the evil spell of alco- mana enhanced juice.
At first, she only reservedly talked about their Spellmaking lesson, appearing as if wanting to conduct a peer study.
But, as she talked about it, her hands kept reaching for the glass in front of her.
This changed their topic of conversation a little bit.
“Like, for example, did you know that inside a chrysalis, the caterpillar’s body basically digests itself in order to transform into its next stage?
Not much is left from the original.
What a beautiful process!” Rose excitedly talked about animals, monsters, and just biology in general.
“Also, they can see ultraviolet light!”
At least this was more pleasant to listen to than Edmund’s ravings.
Cyril quietly listened, and even Rhamn appeared by his side, her red eyes sparkling.
“Butterflies are cool!”
As far as he was aware, Cyril wasn’t as drunk as they were, not even close.
Perhaps he drank less than he realized.
Another person who was completely fine was Myra.
She was quietly sitting here, nodding from time to time to either Rose or Edmund.
She just refused to drink.
Aside from her initial sip, she didn’t take more.
When asked about this by a very concerned Edmund, Myra just innocently replied, “It doesn’t taste good.
Why would I drink it?”
Which was fair enough.
This continued for an unknown amount of time.
Cyril lost track, but judging from the moon still being in the sky, they didn’t take too long.
Surprisingly not a single staff member came over to them to interrupt this mess.
By the end, Edmund sat there, his gaze blurred.
Rose lay on the table, face down.
Cyril took a look at both of them, then sighed.
“I’ll bring Rose to her dorm!
We live in the same building anyway.” Myra raised her hand in the air, volunteering for the job.
Cyril only nodded.
Not like he cared.
“See you Monday,” he briefly said.
Myra saluted him for some reason, smiling brightly.
“Right!
See you Monday!”
Full of energy, she smoothly picked Rose up and hung her over her shoulder.
With a spring to her step, she left.
How lively.
Cyril observed her back until she could no longer be seen, then looked at the noble still sitting with a numb expression.
Was he supposed to carry this guy then?
…A night out in fresh air will do him some good.
Just as he convinced himself and was about to turn around, Edmund suddenly sprang up to his feet.
“What a…
what a day, huh?” he said, his words slightly slurred.
With shaking hands Edmund reached for the pocket of his jacket.
He took out a vial with transparent liquid.
Drinking it all in one gulp, Edmund wiped his mouth, then held his head for a few moments.
“Oh, thankfully I never leave home without medicine,” he said, his speech noticeably more coherent already.
Clearly, it wasn’t the first time he drank to this extent.
Edmund was prepared.
“Cyril, wait a bit.
There’s something I wanted to say.”
Cyril crossed his arms, silently staring at this green-eyed noble.
Edmund shook his head, as if to get rid of something, then looked him in the eyes.
“About our new friends.
I didn’t expect you of all people would be socializing.
Again-”
“Get on with it,” Cyril mumbled impatiently.
Perhaps he was more drunk than he realized, but he did experience an urge to hit Edmund at this moment.
“…Right.
Let’s start with Rose Briar.
She seems like a smart girl and a bit of a pushover.
It’s a beautiful combination, quite useful.
Additionally, I’ve heard about the Briar family.
They don’t have much power and try to avoid the political scene.
An extremely good pick for friends, I’m impressed.”
Edmund nodded up and down with a satisfied expression.
He spoke casually, not too different from how he talked before in the midst of drinking.
Only now, his green eyes appeared motivated, full of schemes.
Cyril continued to silently observe, feeling not much surprise.
It only happened a bit sooner than expected, but Edmund already started planning.
It seems drinking really did help him relax.
As he was thinking this, Edmund’s face gradually showed hesitation.
“However, that other girl, Myra, is an extremely bad pick.
In fact, that’s why I stopped you-”
Cyril narrowed his eyes a little, coldly looking back at him.
“I don’t care if someone is a commoner, noble, or what goals they might have.
I’ll be fine.”
He understood what he was getting at.
Myra was suspicious.
As suspicious as they could be, actually.
She was from outside the city, as in, without a traceable past.
A clichéd background of all individuals with questionable professions.
She was strong, far stronger than a commoner should be.
She must have been training from an early age, using the best resources available.
Besides, for someone capable of casually snapping a man’s neck, she was acting far too innocently.
Edmund listened to his words until the end, then awkwardly scratched his head.
“…Alright then.
Personally, I don’t trust people who refuse to drink with me.”
Suddenly, his face twisted into a pained grimace as he held his head with both hands.
“Oh no!
I overdid it…
The medicine didn’t help…
My head is going to split open tomorrow…”
To his mumble filled with despair, Cyril only turned his back.
“Have a good night,” he said.
Without waiting for a response, he walked away.
Despite Edmund saying exactly what he expected him too, Cyril still felt perplexed by his words for some reason.
He couldn’t understand why.
…
During this time Rhamn appeared particularly quiet, allowing him some tranquility.
Cyril walked back to his dorm.
His footsteps were neither heavy nor light.
In fact, he wasn’t sure what to think of today’s gathering.
He didn’t seem to enjoy it, but he also didn’t seem to entirely hate it.
Did it help him relax?
He wasn’t sure.
It still felt like wasting time he might’ve spent on getting stronger.
He just couldn’t understand why humans would waste their time on something so useless.
Back home, he quickly washed up, changed, and sat down on his bed.
Thoughts about today’s events played out in his head.
The peculiar stone, his uncertain condition, and the headmistress’s suspicious departure.
Today’s gathering, Rose’s excited speech about insects, and Myra’s quiet but optimistic behavior during it.
Finally, Edmund’s words again resurfaced.
Cyril sighed and lay down.
He stared at the ceiling, his thoughts gradually becoming muddled.
Humans are so confusing.
You never know what they are actually thinking deep inside.
They can give you the warmest smile, but at the same time harbor deep hatred beneath it.
And mingling with them, you have to do the same.
That’s just how life was.
It’s all such a headache.
In a way, talking to Rhamn was refreshing.
He couldn’t hide anything from her, so he didn’t bother.
It was liberating somehow.
Whatever happens, happens.
Soon, Cyril’s eyes closed on their own as his mind drifted off to sleep.
In this heavily muddled state of mind a stray thought couldn’t help but emerge.
I hope Rhamn is not a hallucination…
Rhamn still remained quiet.
Perhaps she was also feeling the effects of magnolia.
It was indeed a tasty drink.
Hopefully, his head won’t ‘split open’ in the morning.