He picked up his pen and scribbled something across the textbook with a scratchy sound before tossing it back as though throwing it away.
A neatly written formula substitution for the problem Professor Philip had told them to solve was written there perfectly cleanly. It was an organized calculation setup that practically told him to do the arithmetic himself.
Ruite glanced at Chester and successfully worked through the calculation to get the answer.
“You got into a prestigious academy for impure reasons, but how about actually putting in some effort.”
“Huh? Yeah. I should.”
Chester put particular emphasis on the words impure reasons. But Ruite merely listened with an unconcerned expression and let it go in one ear and out the other. Naturally, his reply was equally half-hearted.
Once the allotted time ended, just as expected, Philip called Ruite up to solve the problem. Why are bad feelings never wrong? Still, he was glad he had asked Chester.
As he remembered the formula Chester had written down and smoothly filled in the answer, Philip’s eyes gradually shifted into a satisfied well, would you look at that sort of expression. After finishing, he even praised it as a very clean solution method. Since he had not actually solved it himself, the praise sounded a little awkward to him, so he merely laughed stiffly before returning to his seat.
Feeling that he had at least overcome one hurdle, Ruite thanked Chester. Of course, even after receiving thanks, Chester ignored him without so much as a reply.
And so he endured another day of tedious lectures and practical classes, but before all the lessons ended, Harold delivered an announcement worthy of plunging everyone into despair.
“Alright, you all know midterm tests aren’t far away, right?”
At that single sentence, the bright expressions of the students instantly darkened. Surely nobody in the world actually liked exams.
Besides, as befitted the name of a prestigious academy, Witmore Academy’s tests were notoriously difficult. Whenever test period arrived, most students practically wandered around looking like a horde of zombies.
“You’re third-years now. Next year you’ll be graduating seniors. You all know better than anyone how important grade management is. You know third- and fourth-year grades have a huge impact on graduation, right?”
“Yeees……”
Exhausted voices drifted from all around the classroom.
At Witmore, grades carried the greatest weight among the graduation requirements. Test scores and assignment grades accumulated over all four years were combined into an overall score, and if that score fell below a certain standard, graduation became impossible. Moreover, third- and fourth-year grades made up the largest percentage of the final score calculation. In other words, even if someone performed perfectly during first and second year, they could still fail to graduate if their grades collapsed during the remaining two years.
“As you all know, our department takes both theory and practical exams, so prepare well. If there’s a problem you don’t understand or something confusing while studying, come to the professors’ offices. The professors, myself included, are always waiting for you.”
Why did Professor Harold’s smile look demonic today?
“If asking professors feels uncomfortable, then actively cooperate with your seatmates. That’s all. See you tomorrow.”
Thanks to Harold’s test announcement, the atmosphere in the classroom completely deflated. Even Rona, who had been about to plant new seeds into the wooden vines attached to the pillars, trudged weakly out of the classroom.
Ruite also sighed heavily while packing up his textbooks. In the Department of Magic, exam grades were generally weighted forty percent theory and sixty percent practical. Which also meant theory could not simply be abandoned.
At this rate, it seemed he would have to eat dinner and head to the library tonight.
Carrying his heavy textbooks, Ruite returned to the dormitory first. But strangely enough, a crowd of students was gathered in one corner of the first floor. Wondering what day it was, Ruite let out a low sound of realization.
Every week on a certain day, letters from outside arrived at Witmore. Most were from family members addressed to enrolled students.
Since students lived in the dormitories, they could not freely return home. And many academy students came not only from the capital but also from distant regions.
Anyway, once outside letters arrived, the dormitory supervisor’s office would first sort them and distribute them into square boxes labeled with each room number.
Ruite was about to head over to check as well, but stopped himself. The students were gathered too densely and noisily. Deciding to check later when things quieted down, he started toward his room when one person standing out among the crowd particularly caught his eye.
It was Chester. Seeing him like this again made it newly obvious how much taller he was than his peers. He seemed to be checking the arrived letters as well, a white sheet of paper held in his hand.
And Chester’s expression while reading the letter looked particularly unpleasant. Though, to be fair, he was not exactly someone who usually walked around looking cheerful.
Ruite glanced at Chester before climbing the stairs. First he left his textbooks in his room, then headed to the cafeteria to eat dinner.
After spending plenty of time complaining about exams with Dylan, his usual meal companion, he grabbed the textbooks he had left in the room and headed back downstairs. Once all lectures ended, students had to write down a reason if they wanted to leave the dormitory.
Ruite received the list from the dormitory supervisor’s office, wrote down his name, and next to it wrote, “Studying at the library.” The reasons written by the students before him were all identical to his. The test period really is coming.
As he was thinking that, the letter boxes caught his eye again.
Something did seem to be inside the numbered box for his room, but checking now felt bothersome. If it was from home anyway, his parents had probably filled it with more pointless content.
They were the type who wrote letters to their son whenever they got bored.
Thinking he would check later when he returned, he headed first to the library on the first floor of the main building.
As he entered the brightly lit library, countless students simultaneously lowered their heads as though rehearsed beforehand, focusing solely on their books. The only sound was the scratching of pens.
The enormous library almost felt like another world entirely. The towering bookshelves, long tables, and chairs made entirely of wood carried the pleasant scent of timber.
Breathing in the familiar smell, he searched for a seat, only to realize there were none available. Just as he was wondering what to do, one empty seat immediately caught his eye.
Lucky.
Excited, he moved to claim it, but the person seated across from it raised his head. Chester, who had been rubbing at his stiff neck, frowned out of habit the moment he saw Ruite. It was obvious at a glance that Ruite intended to take the empty seat, but the instant he saw Chester, he smiled awkwardly and changed direction.
Can’t possibly offend the top student in the Department of Magic while he’s studying for exams.
Left with no choice, Ruite headed into the library lounge instead. It did not have the same solemn atmosphere as the central reading area, but it still maintained a proper studying environment, so he did not particularly mind.
After finding a decent seat, opening his book, and concentrating for around thirty minutes, he stretched and yawned—only to meet Chester’s eyes in the distance once again.
“……”
The yawn that had been about to escape retreated right back in.
By terrible luck, the lounge section where he sat and the central reading room section where Chester sat happened to face each other diagonally.
In Chester’s gaze as he watched Ruite yawning widely, Ruite could practically read the words utterly pathetic.
Feeling somehow as though he had once again irritated him, Ruite moved to the seat opposite his current one. This way, from Chester’s side, he would probably only be able to see his back.
Just as he tried to refocus on studying again, the lounge door opened and he sensed someone approach from behind. A moment later, a hand landed lightly on his shoulder.
“Ah, you startled me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Colin smiled with his characteristic smiling eyes and naturally took the seat beside Ruite.
“Studying for exams too, Rui?”
“Yeah. I should at least graduate.”
“Haha, true enough. I came to study too, but there weren’t any seats left in the central section.”
Ruite nodded, saying he had already experienced the same thing. The central seats were practically monopolized by fourth-years whose feet were already at the fire and third-years whose feet would soon be there.
“But Colin.”
“Hm?”
Ruite turned sideways completely and slowly looked Colin up and down as he pulled books from his bag.
“You look… different somehow?”
“Really? Ah! Isn’t it because of my hair?”
Colin smiled brightly while pointing at his hair. Now that he looked closer, Colin’s hair was curlier than usual.
“If I wash it and don’t brush it right away, it ends up like this.”
“Ah, so that’s why you looked different.”
Laughing quietly, Ruite reached out and touched Colin’s hair here and there with visible curiosity. Colin did not resist in the slightest and simply sat still when the lounge door opened once again.
“Hey.”
Both of them naturally turned toward the source of the voice.
“Chester, hi.”
Colin greeted Chester warmly as he entered. Ruite tilted his head while staring directly at Chester, who stood there crookedly.
“I need to talk to you. Spare me a minute.”