Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Murder Without Consequence (2)
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-And so... the saint's suffering is redeemed by the precious blood of the sinless... Ahem, you're daydreaming, Arma.
'Damn it...'
Tap, tap.
White was paper, black was ink.
I couldn't afford to waste the precious lecture at this academy I'd paid a fortune to enter, so I'd been sticking it out...
'What's the deal? Is he actually crazy?'
-Arma.
I wasn't concentrating at all. I might as well have skipped class.
"Arma!"
"Eek!"
Suddenly, a bearded middle-aged face loomed right in front of me. I yelped in shock and toppled over backward in my chair.
Thud.
As I braced for intense pain, what stopped my fall—and the chair—was the woman from the Wooden Cross Class with the greatest physical strength in all of Aegis Academy... Shirley.
Shirley was the eldest daughter among the three sons and one daughter of the Spencer Margrave.
But lately, I'd started to suspect she wasn't using that incredible strength to hone her major in spear arts, but only for things like swinging me around or grabbing me like this.
"Professor, the truth is, Senior's been feeling off since this morning."
My head...
Shirley whispered words I couldn't bear to repeat herself, then tilted the toppled chair side to side, meticulously checking me for injuries.
Why speak in such a flat tone while acting so tenderly?
Soon enough, Shirley righted my chair again without breaking a sweat.
"Your condition management is a mess."
"I'll be more careful."
"Even if you stay for the rest of class like this, it won't do any good. You're dismissed for the day."
It was a clear eviction notice.
For the sake of my classmates—who, like me, had paid top dollar to enroll here burning with academic passion—I couldn't keep disrupting the lecture.
I nodded and left the classroom, leaving Shirley behind as she completely lost interest in me and stared out the window.
'Todor.'
But my mind was far from settled.
The image of that red-and-violet-eyed young lord with crimson hair—Todor—remained vividly etched in my memory.
'That was just my imagination? Red and purple odd eyes?'
No matter how much of a delusional dandy I was, I wouldn't fabricate such a detailed image of some young lord I wasn't even close to.
Especially not as Theodor White, with his heterochromia of red and violet irises hidden behind an eyepatch.
"Too many colors, too elaborate a backstory."
Did Theodor White know?
That I'd imagined what lay beneath his eyepatch—and convinced myself it was real.
I clutched my head and squatted down, chanting like a mantra: Stop fantasizing, stop fantasizing.
"You're in the way, Arma."
I'd been mumbling to myself in a squat for several minutes when a low, soft woman's voice came from above.
When I looked up, there stood Judith Taylor, class president of the Wooden Cross Class, her wavy blue hair tied low.
"Ah, sorry..."
"No need to apologize. Looks like you got kicked out of theology class, huh?"
Judith smiled languidly, as if savoring my misfortune, waiting for my response.
Lying would be undignified, so I nodded and admitted the truth.
"Yeah, I got kicked out."
"And your mother is out there even now, braving the sea winds just to get you into that one class."
"Why bring that up..."
Violence wasn't only physical.
Clutching my chest—shattered to compound fractures—I waddled to the side of the corridor. Judith cackled and waved lazily as she sauntered off.
Sunlight pouring through the open corridor windows spilled over Judith's fingers, firmly rooted like nails.
-Sparkle.
What dazzled my vision with its reflection was the house lord's ring on her right second finger.
We were only a year apart in age, but the invisible weight of house lordship on her shoulders made her seem far more mature.
I watched her retreating back a moment longer, then stood.
'First time getting kicked out like this. Turns out there's nothing to do at the academy besides study.'
I couldn't keep squatting in the hall tormenting myself, so as I forced my feet toward the dorms, I belatedly realized how little there was to do with the time left.
Surrounded on all sides by ocean, the academy was a natural fortress in its own right—but that also meant you couldn't escape without serious effort.
Right, we weren't supposed to be able to leave easily in the first place.
Because...
"Because...?"
The shock of being thrown out of class lingered, and my headache wouldn't quit.
Unconsciously replaying my encounter with Theodor White, I headed toward the Wooden Cross Class's patronage office.
"Haa~ Getting expelled from class at my age. What a loss of face."
Maybe I should've just asked Judith to play with me.
Judging by her being in the hall at this hour, her schedule must've been free.
The thought didn't last. I shook my head, recalling the vicious rumors that had swirled during the week I'd stuck close to Judith—rumors that followed us both.
Lately, my most innocent actions inexplicably turned into scandalous gossip, boomeranging back at me.
After it happened repeatedly, my reputation at the academy had sunk to that of a promiscuous playboy—or the equivalent of a monkey.
No more thinking.
I shook my head vigorously and headed to the dorms.
"Hello, Arma."
"Hello."
High-year and low-year students at Aegis Academy had different schedules.
Unlike me, a relatively high-year student, the ones I passed outside classrooms now were all mid-level curriculum students, around 14 to 17 years old.
They still had at least four years before advancing to the upper class and master's program, so all mid-level students wore the standard, regulation uniforms.
A mantle slung diagonally over the shoulders, a stand-up collar rising to the neck, and inside it, the glimpse of embroidered white blouse cuffs.
The overall look was austere, almost ascetic, but the details screamed excess—overly meticulous in the smallest ways.
In any case, this academy was a microcosm of high society, so every passerby was undoubtedly precious blood from some prominent house.
"Hello."
"...Hello."
Thus, the Theodor White and Arthur Usher before me were equally noble heirs of the White and Usher houses.
They carried the distinctive scent of the Crown of Thorns Class cadets majoring in magiology—thick ink and dried herbs.
One of them glaring at me with half-lidded eyes was concerning, but...
'Did Todor tell Arthur about this morning?'
Arthur gave a perfunctory nod that seemed disrespectful and provocative for a junior greeting a senior, then quickly looked away.
In contrast, Theodor White—polite as ever—had traded his earlier school uniform for a thin blouse and pants.
The black eyepatch crossing his face remained the same, unaffected by the season.
"Is there a magiology class worth attending for Crown of Thorns majors here?"
"...Double major. Arthur's..."
"Oh."
Theodor answered briefly in place of Arthur Usher, who clamped his mouth shut.
Arthur, clearly uninterested in me anymore, straightened the few hardcovers tucked under his arm and turned away sharply.
'Arthur Usher is in the Swordmaster program.'
For swordmasters whose talents were magic-based like Arthur, they entered the Crown of Thorns Class; for those body-technique-based like Judith, the Wooden Cross Class.
But once you reached the pinnacle of a field, the lines blurred.
Hence, Swordmaster cadets like Arthur supplemented deficiencies via double majors.
"Right, yeah. Forgot, since I'm a free major."
Another peculiarity of Aegis Academy was its free major system for niche fields with few takers.
I majored not in conventional martial arts, but in sharpshooting—a performance art—so I was a free major attached to the Wooden Cross Class.
There were more complex, shady adult circumstances behind it, but simply put: to get me into this elite academy, my mother had rolled up her sleeves.
I glanced at Theodor, then spoke up.
"Uh—earlier."
"Earlier..."
Theodor parroted blankly, as if he'd forgotten everything that happened, then stared straight at me.
"It's not uncommon."
"Oh man, really. I'm so sorry. Especially since I contributed to one of those 'uncommon' incidents. Truly sorry."
"...Yes."
Theodor lowered his gaze demurely, bowed his head slightly, and passed me by.
Arthur, who had stood silently beside him without presence, followed suit.
'Quiet ones.'
Their footsteps silent, their departure felt less like pampered young lords and more like... birds of prey.
The odd unease that had haunted me for hours returned. I shook my head again.
A dream. It had to be that damn dream.
Clutching my throbbing head, I trudged to the dorms.
'If I sleep again, I'll have the same dream.'
Theodor bowing submissively to fate before me, and me looking down at him, finger on the trigger.
It was murder, but without substance—no incident.
-Thud.
Not a real murder, yet I was exhausted.
Overwhelmed by unnatural fatigue, I curled up in bed and closed my eyes.
'Ah, another dream...'
A faint image waiting beyond my eyelids slipped through the darkness.
I began dreaming again.
Without resistance, as if I'd known it was coming.
Yes, strange as it sounded, I knew everything.
That I had to escape this dream.
No—precisely, that I mustn't let this chain affect my comfortable present.
Yet like fate, or karma, I knew this choice would circle back to me...
'Is it Theodor again? Do I have to kill Theo like last time?'
My thoughts shifted too quickly.
As if a cold, detached observer self existed separately, my mind veered unnaturally.
-Clunk.
And again, I emerged from darkness into some space.
Squeezing out of a cramped darkness barely big enough for my body, I started walking.
The ground swayed like I'd binged on liquor.
My head spun so badly I couldn't stand straight, staggering in a grotesque zigzag that wasn't quite straight.
"Ugh..."
Nausea surged.
A dream, yet the sensations were so vivid.
I raised my left hand to cover my mouth—and the gun I'd been unknowingly gripping reflected the dim moonlight.
"..."
A queasy feeling made me try to toss it into the bushes, but the more I willed it, the tighter my grip clenched.
"Damn it, what now."
Unable to discard the gun, I clutched it harder, stumbling onward through the underbrush like a terrifying madman.
Only when I abandoned the thought did my 'body' tuck the gun into my waistband.
Each step was agony; moving was a struggle. Rough breaths rose to my throat.
Sweat poured like an explosion, cooling heat only to steal my body temperature, leaving me shivering now.
Dragging my heavy body with such effort, I arrived at a cliff.
And at its edge stood a slender beauty with wave-like, curly blue hair.
"—Judith?"
I'd recognize Judith anywhere.
As if confirming it, she slowly turned at my call.
But something was off.
Precisely, dragging my sick body to a cliff at midnight was bizarre enough, but most bizarre was Judith's despairing expression.
"Arma. So you finally..."
Finally, what?
I wanted to hear more, but what followed wasn't my will.
I shoved away Judith's reaching hand and grappled with her for something.
But my stamina couldn't overcome Judith, near swordmaster level.
As if it were natural, she shook me off and grabbed my staggering arm.
Then, as if waiting, I hurled myself over the cliff.
"Arma!"
With Judith's scream, I dangled from the sheer cliff, clinging to her right hand.
"Guess I owe you an apology now..."
My mouth spoke, but not by my will.
And I drew the gun from my waistband, aiming at Judith's right hand.
'Wait! Wait, what's happening!?'
Even staring at the barrel aimed at her own hand, Judith didn't let go.
Then—
-Bang!!
I pulled the trigger on the hand gripping my arm.
I didn't want to imagine it, but I felt her fingers—holding me tight—vanish.
The bullet pierced her fingers and lodged in the middle of my arm.
Judith fell with me over the cliff.
Burning pain spread from the wound; intense agony made me squeeze my eyes shut.
'What a horrific dream.'
The second murder in my dreams—a serial killing.