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Translator: uly
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Lingering Past (1)
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"Aigoo… My bones are killing me after using magic for the first time in ages."
After the usual noisy lunch rush had passed today, I started cleaning up.
I neatly arranged the potions and pulled out a broom from the basement to sweep away the dirt and dust piled on the floor.
As the academy's only canteen, it was quiet most of the time except for those few hectic peak hours, with only a handful of students dropping by now and then. It let me enjoy a fairly serene atmosphere.
Basking in the warm afternoon sunlight like this, spending these peaceful moments, made me think I'd done the right thing coming to Pharenchia.
If anyone tried to disrupt this peace, I'd personally smash a pot over their head.
"I'm here!! Gimme bread!!"
And there she was. Sure enough, today too.
I sighed as I watched Adella hop around, dirtying the floor I'd just cleaned with her mud-caked feet.
With a voice about five times louder than Baroness Liv's, she had a real talent for turning the area upside down all by herself, aside from her bread thievery.
Ever since Ansen—who'd been tormenting her until recently—got carted off to the temple, she'd been living it up, her face beaming with smiles.
At first, I thought they were dating and she was offering him bread as tribute.
What was that phrase? Something about… picking a flower blooming on a cliff.
I figured since just buying it was too easy, she was play-acting the daring thief out of challenge—but nope, she was just a bread shuttle.
In fact, after the incident, her bright and cheerful vibe seemed to win everyone over. Among the first-years, the second daughter of the Roshiar count family had no bad reputation at all.
A bit dim, but a good kid.
The academy was, in a way, a jungle-like, eat-or-be-eaten competitive society.
For other students, a kind, pretty noble girl from a high family with zero magic talent was top priority for cozying up to.
"Stay there and pick whatever."
"Aw, not the stuff from yesterday—gimme the fresh batch! I got money and everything!"
But from my side, she was a huge annoyance.
Thinking I'd helped her out, Adella came sprinting from the distant first-year classroom during lecture breaks whenever she had time, killing time here.
With her two prior offenses on record, my nerves were always on edge, wondering if she'd swipe something else while distracted.
"Jean Valjean."
"..."
"Hey, Valjean."
"I'm not Valjean? I'm Adella?"
"Don't you have stuff to do? Homework or whatever?"
"Ah, can you tutor me?"
"..."
"If it's not too much trouble, could you pretty please!? I-I've never seen magic that insane in my life!"
The more I tried to shake her off, the more tangled I got.
But I couldn't outright yell and chase her away—the duel with Ansen getting buried without going to the student council owed a bit to Adella's help too.
She'd testified that he choked on dirt-covered bread and collapsed.
"No helping. Scram."
Of course, I had zero intention of wasting time on Adella, whose future wasn't exactly as bright as the sun I'd blocked.
Her magic talent was on the level of Helzev's massive ant nest hatchery. Rock bottom, in other words.
I'd heard even the Roshiar family had half-given up on her—
No, if that's all it was, she'd be lucky.
After seeing 6th-circle sky magic—and a unique spell unknown to the kingdom—asking me to do her homework? That's not something a normal person would think.
If she was serious, Adella was one scary lady.
"Aw, c'mon, just teach me~! I'll call you teacher. Mr. Louis~."
The sole witness being this thick-headed mage? I was genuinely relieved.
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The Magic Department's second-year required core class—"Practical Black Magic Operation"—was notoriously the one that flunked the most students.
The Penheim Kingdom didn't have the best relations with the Holy Kingdom, but that didn't make it pro-black magic either.
Still, as a must-learn magic path for those pursuing the dark arts, it was in the curriculum.
The issue was that even just grasping the basics required a certain amount of karma inevitably for black magic paths.
In the end, every mage in the classroom studied like mad to make up for lacking practical scores.
To pass the picky Professor Glatos's exams, you had to invest way more time than other subjects.
But Liv, who never lost top spot, seemed off today.
While everyone else was taking notes, she fiddled with something in her hand under the desk.
"Liv, what's up with you today? You don't seem focused at all."
Even her friend Karen's concern got only a quiet headshake.
"It's nothing."
Liv's mind was troubled.
The reason? The Litvice Test Paper she'd bought at the canteen recently—now charred black.
Was there a mistake in manufacturing?
But no matter how she racked her memory, the paper Louis the canteen owner handed her had been white.
And no one had touched it since she put it in her bag, so whose karma the pitch-black color indicated was obvious.
Liv bit her lip. The brilliant girl already knew what that color meant.
'If the book's right…'
According to the doctrine of the Church of Light, state religion of the Monarch Holy Kingdom, humans are born without karma.
No matter how evil a black mage, casting magic on karma alone without mana is impossible.
Thus, basic magic theory states the test paper turns redder with more karma.
A black Litvice Test Paper indicated an impure being not even blessed with a speck of mana from the God of Light.
'Demonkin.'
There had to be some mistake.
And proving it was simple: just peek into the memories imbued in the paper. But Liv hesitated to decide.
"Haa…"
She let out a deep sigh. After class, in the empty lecture hall, she asked Karen.
"Karen."
"Yeah?"
"What do you think of Mr. Louis?"
"Who's that?"
Oh. She didn't even know the name.
"The canteen owner."
"Ohh~. That guy with the 'I've seen it all' face who sneaks peeks at boobs sometimes?"
Pretty harsh assessment. Not that bad, I think.
"He doesn't look that old… He said twenty… eight."
"Look, Liv. For noble girls like us, if we debut in society and don't marry within a year, we're spinsters. Guys? Lucky if two years older tops. Past twenty-five single? Either heading to a convent or what?"
"I didn't say he's noble!"
"Oh, then it's worse. Commoner that age? Should have like seven kids."
"Still…"
Karen's mouth slowly gaped as Liv kept vaguely defending the canteen owner.
She'd watched from the start since enrollment: Liv Lavre, a noble with zilch to her name, got invites to tons of salons.
Even the prideful, picky professors obsessed with magic relentlessly pushed her to join their towers post-graduation.
And the first guy to crack that stoic face was a grumpy canteen owner?
Absolutely not.
"Liv! Are you nuts!?"
"W-Why?"
Kwak!
When Karen grabbed her slender shoulder, Liv flinched like a wary cat.
She didn't like physical contact, no matter how close. But knowing that, Karen kept railing.
"Even if you're a fallen noble with no land or faith, the canteen guy's a no-go! Straight up, what's he got over the guards? Nah, they at least got bodies. Louis? Nada."
Liv had asked about Louis's impression, but nothing came to mind.
Who judges street cleaners or valets seen for 10 seconds a day?
Sure, there were suspicious rumors.
Pharenchia Academy's ancient tradition: the thick rulebook everyone tosses gets oddly wordy on the canteen.
The Merak Magic Tower chairwoman, from a collapse accident years back, acts weirdly deferential to the owner.
Horus Lighthouse aerial maps leave a black hole smack in the academy's center.
But all sourceless gossip.
Those flimsy scandals only fueled her resolve to save her cute, precious friend.
"You, know anything about him? Past, why he's at the academy?"
"No…"
"See? You know zilch! Probably lives filthy up in the canteen attic, no home. Or lover outside town."
"Lover!?"
"Just saying could be. Head's gotta be a stinky mess!"
"T-That bad?"
"I haven't sniffed, so who knows! Anyway… Pick your crushes wisely, Liv. You might think your lot's lowly, but hey, baron's still a baron. Too good for a canteen creep."
"..."
"Here, my notes from today. And never mention him again!"
How'd it come to this—
Liv muttered watching fuming Karen storm off.
She just wanted his impression, but ended up with nagging.
One thing clear: Louis didn't seem demonkin at all.
No special ties since enrolling last year, but she clearly remembered his smiles and small kindnesses.
So why this reaction from a plain canteen owner?
Liv lacked courage to check the paper's truth right away.
'Yeah, ask him directly first.'
That'd be best. Surely a tiny misunderstanding.
As Karen said, she knew next to nothing about Louis.
Exaggeration? Name and gender, that's it.
'But if…'
If he really was demonkin—
Kkuuk.
Liv gripped her forearm-sized mini-staff—her late father's sole memento—like it might snap. Her magic wand (?).
She prayed she wouldn't need it.
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