Chương 23: CHAPTER 1 : Curses
For Kimberly students, advancing a year meant stepping one foot deeper into darkness. Case in point: the newest subject on their curriculum.
"…Man, everyone's looking extra tense," Guy said. "It's a new subject; I get it. Still, though…"
Every seat was full, but the room was eerily quiet.
"This is exactly how tense they should be," Chela replied. "We're here to study curses—and out of all fields of magic, few are as perilous to handle."
"Curses, huh…?" said Katie. "My mom and dad never told me anything about those, so I'm not very familiar myself. You say they're dangerous? Also, what's with this water?"
Katie gestured at the table. There was a jug of water in front of their usual group of six gathered around a large worktable with sinks on both sides. Very similar to alchemy class.
"As with any field, a mistake could cost your life," Oliver explained, his voice grim. "But since harming others is the purpose of curses, mistakes are that much more dangerous. If other magical techniques are medicine, then curses are like diseases. If you're not careful, they can do some real damage—on a more basic level, they corrupt our bodies and minds."
Pete frowned. "…That makes it sound like curses have no benefits at all. What are we studying this for anyway?"
"Well, for one thing—they do have their uses. If you've got to exterminate a large number of pests, the sympathetic aspect of curses is very useful. I'll omit the particulars, but it's possible to slaughter an entire swarm with a single curse. I've heard some mages can even wipe out an entire species."
"An entire species?!" Katie wailed. "That's so extreme!"
"Hmm, could be handy for getting bad insects outta the fields," Guy said, clearly interested.
Not the first time these two had taken polar-opposite positions. Oliver started to grin—but then he shuddered, feeling like a caterpillar was crawling up his spine.
"That's all the time we have for talk. She's here," he said, glancing toward the entrance.
Everyone followed his gaze.
The door opened—and darkness poured in.
"Wha—?"
"Eek…?!"
Without exception, every student felt a chill so powerful it gave them instant goose bumps. This was both fear—and a compulsive revulsion. Like the way humans instinctively recoil from the sight of an insect swarm.
The mass of darkness flowed through the doors and slid across the floor. When it reached the podium, corpse-pale hands emerged from within, along with a face—one unsettlingly young. Only then did the students realize that this was not some eldritch mass of darkness, but a woman clad in pitch-black rags.
"…Welcome to your second year. Sorry if I alarmed you."
The voice was unnerving, like a sheep with a crushed larynx. The edges of both lips curled upward, and every student jerked back, their chair legs clattering. None of them had ever seen a smile where the absence of it was infinitely preferable.
"First, let me say hello. I am the curse instructor, Baldia Muwezicamili. I may not look much older than you, but I'm as old as Vana. The cause is a curse, you see; my body is unable to age further. Oh, by Vana I mean Vanessa."
Her pupils thought this had to be some sick joke. Who would have a nickname for that monster? No…this woman just might. Her and her alone.
"First day of classes is always core theory, but first, a vital warning. Don't ever touch me; and don't ever touch anything I've touched until I give express permission. Do not step where I have walked. And probably best if you don't spend more than two hours in the same space as me. Fail to the follow these rules, and it may prove catching."
Her tone was bright and cordial and the content beyond ominous. A pale hand clutched to her chest, she spoke ruefully. "As you can see, I am extremely cursed. I've long since lost track of how many curses I'm harboring. But I'm fairly sure it's a world record. For example, let's see…"
She pointed to the rear of the class, and the students reflexively turned to look. There were plants in a row at the back—that were turning brown before their very eyes. Baldia met her pupils' looks of horror with a fond smile and continued.
"Plants with no resistances end up like that. Just growing in the same room as me, they wither away. You're all mages, so you can hold out for a while, but any nonmagical people would have already died. And that's what'll happen to you if you forget those warnings, okay?"
By this point, several students had their hands over their mouths. Seeing them start to rise, Baldia nodded, clearly used to this.
"That's right; if you feel it coming up, use the sinks. Don't try and hold it in. This is your body's natural defense mechanism. It is perfectly normal to become nauseated if you are in a room with me. Nothing to be concerned about at all."
Before her speech was even over, several students had emptied their stomachs, Pete among them; Oliver stood up, patting his friend's back. And Pete wasn't the only one affected.
"..."
"Guy…!"
Chela spotted it first. His usual vitality drained, the tall boy was sitting very still, his face ashen, making no sounds at all. Baldia spotted this from across the room and turned toward him.
"Mm? You there, didn't you hear? Don't hold it in. Puke away."
"…No, thanks. I don't wanna puke just from seeing someone's face for the first time."
"Ohhh?" Baldia's smile deepened. She left the podium, oozing across the floor like viscous fluid—or perhaps like an entire swarm of burrowing insects. "How sweet. How nice. It's been years since anyone said that! …What's your name?"
"…Guy G-Greenwood."
"Guy! Heh-heh-heh. You're adorable. And so big! A regular hunk."
The closer she got, the more nauseated he became. Guy clenched his jaw, trying to fight it. Soon, she was right in front of him, her pale face leaning in.
"But this won't do. Go on. Barf."
"Urp…!"
Hearing her voice right in his ears was too much. He toppled forward, vomit forcing itself up his throat. His friends quickly stepped in. Oliver's spell caught the puke, sweeping it into the sink, and Chela's healing spell eased his pain.
"Well done," Baldia said, obviously pleased. "If you upchucked today, don't worry. Two or three more classes and you won't need to puke anymore. Once you're done, there's scented water on the desks; just gargle with that, and your mouth will thank you for it."
That's what the water was for. It all made sense now. Oliver had to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that it was a smart choice.
Guy was still breathing heavily, and Katie came rushing to his side.
"Guy, are you okay?! Should we go to the infirmary?!"
"...No…I'm fine. It's easing up…"
He staggered to his feet and managed to make it back to his chair. Baldia gave him one last sinister smile, then returned to the podium.
"Everyone's settled down? Then let's start in on theory," she began. "First, what is a curse? Well, quite simply, a curse is a communicable disease carried by immaterial connections: speaking with someone, being from the same region as them, falling so in love them that you can't sleep. These relationships can all be conduits for the transmission of a curse."
She was just launching into a lecture, as if nothing odd had happened. That forced everyone to realize—no matter how many students threw up, it would not qualify as a problem here.
"The nature and strength of that relationship will determine which types of curses you can use. There's a distinct tendency for tight, interwoven, insular connections to make curses easier to cultivate. Just like mold grows if you don't air the room out. It's the same thing! You choose the environment, follow the steps to cultivate it, and then release it upon the target—that's the basic procedure for any major curse. Remember it!"
"…!"
Oliver heard a pen scratching. Scented water in one hand, Pete had recovered from his nausea, and was frantically taking notes. Everyone focused on Baldia's lecture.
"Curses are lonely things. They're born from relationships, so they are always looking for someone to affect, always desperate to find someone else to infect." She continued: "Nonmagical people have a superstition that a cold is cured when someone else catches it. With curses, this is partially true. If you choose an appropriate target and follow the appropriate steps, the curse will move to them. Naturally, this does not solve the real problem, but it's a common stopgap procedure when trying to break a curse."
Her voice was tinged with irony—yet with an undercurrent of tenderness. As if this lecture on curses was actually describing herself.
"But there are times when that is the only option. If a curse has grown too large, nobody can break it. When that happens, all you can do is locate a suitable container and trap it. Like so!"
As she spoke, Baldia pulled open the front of her black garb, exposing what lay beneath—the sight of which made every student gasp: Multiple twisted faces bulged from the pale skin of her chest. The growths had eyes that moved, balefully glaring at their observers.
"Some of the curses I harbor are so powerful they could wipe out the human race if they got free. If a curse becomes impossible to control, we call it a maelstrom. Historically, entire countries have been burned to the ground in an attempt to stop a maelstrom's spread," Baldia explained. "That's the thing, really. The way curses work, if you screw up—it isn't just the caster who dies. Everyone close to them will perish in turn, and in the worst-case scenario, the casualties can spread beyond your wildest imaginings."
Every student knew—the instructor before them was that exact worst-case scenario personified. Baldia Muwezicamili was the destination of an overgrown curse—the sorcerer who swallowed maelstroms whole.
"In my class, you must always keep that thought in mind. You don't want to hurt your friends…do you?"
"…She was the scariest yet," Katie sad.
Class had ended, and it was lunchtime. The group had gathered around a table in the Fellowship.
"We've had a lot of mean teachers, but…she's different. I feel like she'd actually listen, maybe even care about our feelings," Katie continued. "But that's why she's so scary. The closer you get to her, the closer her curses get to us. The friendlier she is, the more understanding, the more we like her—I just know all those feelings will invite the curses in. And I feel like part of her wants that."
Everyone let Katie's words sink in. They simply listened in silence, no one adding any comments of their own.
"I was aware that curse bearers existed. I just…figured you could approach them like poisonous animals, you know? If they meant no harm, nothing bad would happen. If you're sincere and patient, you can build a good rapport," she explained. "But…that's not right at all, is it? Doesn't matter if they're malicious—connecting to them is all it takes. With poison, you have to be careful—but that won't help with curses. The more sincere you are, the more kindness you show…the more likely that is to come back and bite you."
And the knowledge that something that ironic could exist was especially hard for her to bear. Oliver knew the entire field of curses was fundamentally incompatible with Katie Aalto's very being.
"I know it's frustrating, but you're exactly right," he told her as he stirred sugar into his tea. "The simplest and most effective way to avoid curses is to avoid all contact with whoever's harboring them. Show no interest, pay no attention, remain stubbornly indifferent. That way you can never be cursed…but that's easier said than done."
Across the table, Chela was nodding. "Yes, that's an entirely impractical approach. If they're right in front of you, and you can see and hear them—it's already impossible to remain indifferent. It's not just humans—creatures of all walks of life depend on relations with others. The fact that animals, insects, and plants are susceptible to curses proves it."
People couldn't simply avoid curse bearers. Being alive required connections to things around you.
"A famous mage once expressed that universal concept as follows: 'Truly, curses laugh at all life equally.'"
A grim hush settled over the table. All six friends felt a strange chill, but not because of Baldia Muwezicamili specifically—they felt as if they'd caught a glimpse of the colossal malice lurking beneath the world's surface.
"…I didn't find her scary," Guy muttered, breaking the silence. All eyes turned toward him. "She just seemed lonely to me… For all her talk about barfing." He sighed.
"…Guy," Oliver said, mildly alarmed. "I don't mean to tell you how you should feel, but that's a dangerous impression to have. This is true for mages in general, but people who are good at curses are often highly charismatic. That makes it easier for them to build connections to others—it's easier to curse someone who likes you."
"I get the logic. Still, how am I supposed to dislike someone when I don't? It doesn't work that way. Our hearts don't do what we tell 'em to."
"...!"
Oliver couldn't argue with that. If human emotions could be overruled with logic, life would be far simpler. He himself was constantly struggling with urges that went against his goals and the turmoil that accompanied his every decision. And he likely would for the rest of his life.
"…Would you choose her over us, Guy?" Katie asked, sounding anxious. She knew it was wrong to force a choice. Well aware it was a selfish question, she'd chosen to ask it anyway. That was Katie's way of caring for her friends. She wanted to keep Guy close—something she alone was capable of voicing honestly.
Guy made a face and patted her on the head. His way of returning the affection.
"Don't be silly. I didn't say that. I'm just not gonna start hating her because she's a curse bearer, that's all. Don't worry, she's not exactly wrapping me around her finger here. Got that, Pete?"
"Wh-why are you dragging me into this? I was never worried!"
Guy turned away from Katie, putting his arm over Pete's shoulders. The bespectacled boy tried shaking him off but to no avail.
"Plus, if we're talking types, I go for healthier complexions! Get some color in the cheeks, y'know? Just like veggies, a bit of awkwardness doesn't matter if they've grown up strong and taste good. That's the kinda girl I wanna marry."
"Hmm. Like that first-year girl?"
"Rita? Dude, she's younger."
"Oh? Is that a turnoff?" Chela asked.
"I guess not really, but where I grew up, big-sis types rule the roost, so I sorta got it in my head that's what a farmer's bride should be. Gimme a shy younger girl, and it just doesn't feel right. I mean, kid sisters are cute and all—just like this one. There, there."
"Don't rub my head! I'm not your kid sister! And I'm a boy today!"
His hair thoroughly mussed, Pete finally managed to squirm away. Everyone laughed, but just as Oliver was letting himself relax…
A new voice chimed in. "Oh, we talkin' naughty stuff? Lemme get in on that!"
A girl sidled up next to Pete, talking like she belonged there. They knew she was in their year, but not one of them had ever spoken to her before. The bespectacled boy shifted away, baffled.
"Wh-who are you? Why would you just jump into—?"
"Aw, don't be such a stinker, Mr. Reston. I've been aching to talk to you! And I at least wanna get you to remember my name. Mind if I sit with you?"
She whipped out her white wand and, with a quick pull spell, dragged a chair in from the next table. Oliver opened his mouth to say something, but yet another voice came from over his shoulder.
"If that's where this discussion's going, I gotta ask—what's your type, Ms. Hibiya? You like 'em ripped? Slim?"
This equally unfamiliar boy was looming over Oliver and talking directly to Nanao. The Azian girl stopped eating, her head tilting to one side.
"You mean my taste in men? …Mm, I have not spared it much thought. Pray give me some time to consider the subject."
"Don't bother, Nanao," Oliver said. Then he turned to the newcomers. "I'm not saying you two can't join the conversation, but you really ought to save those questions for someone you know a little better. You can hardly blame us for finding your approach rude."
The male newcomer leaned his hand onto the table in front of Oliver. "So uptight! You can't just ice us out, Mr. Horn. I get not wanting to have the love of your life snatched away, but Ms. Hibiya doesn't belong to you. Everyone's got a shot!"
"That wasn't my point. I'm talking about your manners."
"And you're barely disguising how possessive you are," the girl sneered. "Quit pretending like you're the only selfless soul here, Mr. Horn."
Oliver's brows snapped together. Sensing the tension rising, Chela began, "I think that's about enough—"
"Getting a bit carried away 'ere, no?"
A third new voice—but this one instantly recognizable. A tall boy with a breezy smile stood at the end of the table.
"Mr. Rossi…?" Oliver said, blinking up at him.
"'ello, Oliver. I did not intend to intrude, but I cannot 'old my tongue. Their efforts, they are just so clumsy, no?"
Rossi shook his head dramatically before eyeing the two intruders.
"You want something that belongs to another, you 'ave to follow some rules. Barge in without paying your respects, and it will not only be Oliver you upset."
They were both frowning, but Rossi merely chuckled.
"But where I just 'ad to laugh—everyone's got a shot, was it? Ha-ha-ha! What a joke! Nothing could be further from the truth. Neither of you 'ave ever faced one of these six for real, 'ave you?"
"...!"
"..."
"Did you take part in the battle royal? Please, I am all ears. What were you doing then? Did you 'ave a tummy ache that kept you on the sidelines? Ach, you poor things."
His voice dripped with sarcasm, and the two students' faces grew tense—then Rossi's tone suddenly got serious.
"Looks like you 'ave no right to put on such airs. You 'ave no right to speak to Oliver, Nanao, or their friends."
"…Who do you think you are?"
"They kicked your ass, didn't they?"
"That they did! I lost my battle—but at least I showed up to fight."
Rossi looked quite proud of that. Not a trace of shame.
"Yet, the two of you did not even dare to lose. If that bothers you, then 'ow about you begin by proving you 'ave even an ounce of guts, eh?"
His fingers brushed the hilt of his athame. Seeing both rattled by the challenge, he went for the throat.
"Ah, one last thing. I say this out of pure good will: You 'ave eyes only for what lies in front of you, but spare a glance behind. Do you even realize who else is glaring at you?"
The pair jolted and scanned the room. Most people in the vicinity were just curious, but there were piercing stares coming from all directions.
Richard Andrews was elegantly stirring a cup of tea. Stacy Cornwallis and Fay Willock were sharing a fruit tart. Joseph Albright was devouring a pie with the ferocity of a carnivore. Yet, all eight eyes were trained on the interlopers, the same thought in every mind: Who do you think you are?
"…Eep…!"
"L-later—!"
Both turned and fled the Fellowship like frightened rabbits. Oliver watched them go, then sighed.
"I wasn't sure how to handle that. Thanks, Mr. Rossi." He turned to the room at large. "Thanks, everyone."
But the four people he was addressing had turned their attention back to their meals, acting like nothing had happened. Shrugging, Oliver faced Rossi again.
"The pleasure was all mine," Rossi replied. "But you let your guard down!" He leaned in close, gaze fierce. "Their behavior? Inappropriate, yes. But you left yourself far too open. If she matters to you, shore up your defenses. None of us are children 'ere."
"Urgh…"
"Else…Nanao, your 'and?"
"Hmm? Like so?"
Unsure what he meant, Nanao held out her hand. With a flourish, Rossi took it and smoothly planted his lips on the back.
"Ah—!"
"Whoa!"
Pete and Katie both yelped.
Oliver went stiff with shock, and Rossi shot him a sly smile.
"Let your guard down, and she will be stolen away, like so. The risk is clear, yes?"
Oliver shot up, knocking his chair over. "Rossi!"
"The smolder becomes a fire! Ha-ha-ha! Ciao!"
Rossi spun around and ran off, laughing. Oliver glared after him but elected not to give chase. When he sat back down, he saw the Azian girl's mouth still wide open.
"Nanao, give me your hand! Now!"
"Huh? Again?"
Bewildered, she held out her freshly kissed hand. Oliver grabbed it, pulled out a potion-soaked handkerchief, and began wiping the back of her hand. He was so focused on this task that he failed to notice Guy stifling a laugh.
"…Bit of an overreaction there, man. It's just a kiss on the hand."
"And that could be a step in a Charm ritual! You can never be too careful!"
"I doubt Mr. Rossi would stoop to those means, but if it makes you feel better…," said Chela.
"…You won't kiss anyone yourself, but you don't want anyone else doing it, huh?"
Katie was staring daggers at Oliver, but he was in no state to notice. As an uncomfortable silence settled, Chela put a hand to her chin.
"But if issues like this are arising, then perhaps it's time to admit we're of age… Oliver, we may need to adjust our attitudes accordingly."
He nodded several times. Without once pausing his vigorous wiping.
"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," he answered. "Let's meet on it tonight. Anyone got plans they can't get out of?"
"Oliver, 'tis starting to sting…"
Only when Nanao spoke up did he finally move the handkerchief from her hand. He gave her a look so earnest that the others could barely keep from laughing.
"If not, then let's assemble at our secret base at eight tonight. This one's important."
And at eight that night, all six members gathered in their shared workshop on the labyrinth's first layer.
"One, two, three… This is the eighth meeting of the Sword Roses," said Katie.
"Getting pretty regular, then. And we've got lemon meringue pie today," added Guy.
He'd come in early to bake, so the dessert was fresh out of the oven. Nanao looked delighted and was already reaching for it; Katie was right behind, scowling—it was usually her or Guy who provided refreshments, and they were getting pretty competitive.
Once everyone had a slice of pie in front of them, Oliver's eyes met Chela's, and they nodded.
"I'm glad you all came," he said. "Let's get right to business."
He drew his white wand and used the tip of it to draw letters in light—two words, male and female.
"Time for sex ed," he said, dead serious.
Katie and Guy both choked on their pie.
"Cough, cough… Wh-what is this?! Your idea of a joke?!"
"Not in the least," Chela chimed in. "That is the sole purpose of this gathering."
She waited for that to sink in.
"You do remember what happened at lunch, yes? Mr. Rossi's timely intervention safely drove those two away—"
"Ahem!"
Chela caught Oliver's glare and rolled her eyes at him.
"…Well, there was also the incident with his lips winding up on Nanao's hand, but let's put that aside for now."
She turned to face two of her friends in particular.
"Pete, Nanao, do you know why those students were after you?"
"…Not a lot of reversi around, right? Can't think of any other reason."
"I'm at a complete loss myself. It did not seem as if he wished to duel."
They looked equally baffled. Albright had learned of Pete's trait during the Ophelia incident, and near the end of the year, Pete had gone public with it. He'd had to think about that decision long and hard, but he concluded that the attention it brought him was less stressful than trying to hide it.
Chela sighed softly—their reactions were as clueless as she'd feared.
"I rather thought as much. Then let me not mince words."
She looked them dead in the eye.
"Those students want to make babies with you."
There was a long silence. A good thirty seconds passed before anyone said another word.
"...…Huh?"
"Mmmm?"
Pete and Nanao just looked lost. Neither processed Chela's statement at all.
Chela nodded. "Makes no sense? Then allow me to break things down for you both: For nearly all mages, establishing a long-standing lineage is an obligation of the highest imperative. Equally important is incorporating superior lineage into their own. The greater a mage's talent, the more sought-after they'll be. Are you with me so far?"
Looking a little rattled, all four nodded. Oliver listened closely, leaving the main teaching role to Chela.
"Meanwhile, mages from superior bloodlines do not readily expand their lineage. This is to avoid disclosing the secrets fostered within their line. Some clans have carried that too far, resorting to inbreeding in an attempt to prevent diffusion of their bloodline.
"For these reasons, a mage from a prestigious family cannot easily have a child. Their partner must be from a connected line or possess a superlative power that is deemed worth the deficiencies. Given those terms, the feelings of the parties involved are not considered paramount."
Nobody here knew more about these mage customs than Chela. Heir to a very prestigious family, she'd had the importance of protecting her blood drilled into her from an early age. It was the greatest treasure she possessed.
"So what are mages to do who are not part of a superior bloodline and do not have outstanding abilities? The most commonplace approach is to have a child with someone of similar abilities and lineage. But alternately—you can go after one of the scarce few mages of no lineage who nonetheless possess remarkable talents."
Chela turned directly to today's targets.
"Pete, Nanao—that describes both of you."
This pronouncement made Pete turn bright red.
"W-wait…I get how that applies to Nanao. But me?! I haven't even done anything yet!"
"Regardless of your personal accomplishments, the reversi trait alone is highly valuable. It's known to be genetic, although inheritance is rare. In other words, if a mage reproduces with you, there's a chance their descendants will have more reversi down the line. To many families, that is highly desirable."
"And for the same reasons Chela just explained, reversi bloodlines are often carefully guarded to keep the trait from spreading. The great sage Rod Farquois was known for his many amorous exploits, yet he left surprisingly few children behind," Oliver added. "But you, Pete—you're a first-generation reversi from a nonmagical family. You reside in no house and have no one guarding you. You may well be the only mage in the world in that position."
"Er…oh…"
"I thought we talked about this when you were deciding to go public, but…judging from your reaction, I didn't make myself clear. Sorry if I've made this worse."
Pete hastily shook his head. "No, it's not your fault. I…just didn't realize. Until it actually happened, it never felt real to me that anyone would…look at me that way. Especially while I'm still only in my second year. I know you said I'd be mobbed when I got older, but…"
He frowned, groaning. He'd grown up in an ordinary household, and the idea that a single trait could completely change how people saw him still felt foreign. There was a big gap between his self-image and how others perceived him.
Chela shifted gears.
"And you, Nanao. Your Innocent Color is clear evidence of your high aptitude for magic. Starting with the defeat of the garuda, you spent last year proving your abilities time and time again. I imagine there are few students at Kimberly who aren't watching your every move."
Then she added: "Do you both understand, now? Why other students would want to have children with you?"
Pete and Nanao gave this some thought.
"Additionally," Oliver said, "despite your talents, both of you still know little about the magical world. Other students will see that as a weakness and target you. And some of them will take the direct approach, like today."
He frowned, remembering the pair from lunch. Chela nodded in agreement.
"You'll need to be mindful of your positions and learn what a typical teenage mage considers the 'correct' attitude toward love and sex. That's the purpose of today's meeting. I know it may all come as quite a shock, but there's no time like the present. After all, according to the school rules, third-year students are officially allowed to get pregnant and give birth."
"P-preg…"
That word left Pete mentally and emotionally overwhelmed. Katie had turned every bit as red as him. "I've…definitely seen a few upperclassmen who were clearly, um…"
"Exactly," said Oliver. "Kimberly provides many amenities to assist with and encourage student pregnancy and childbirth. Having children during your time here is perfectly commonplace. Which is exactly why we felt we should have this talk now, while that's still a year away."
"..."
"Guy, don't hide your face," Chela snapped. "This is reality. It applies to you, too."
Even the tall boy had his face buried in his hands, completely speechless. Chela wasn't letting him off that easy.
"For reference, I've got the stats right here. Data on how many Kimberly students engage in sexual intercourse before graduation—eighty percent."
"Eigh—"
"E-eighty?!"
Guy and Katie both gaped at her. They'd seen gossip columns in the school papers, but none of them had provided such specific figures. Most students must've taken that as a given, nothing to write an entire article about.
"This figure has not changed in recent years. In other words, it is likely that four or five of us will have a sexual encounter before our time here is done. Perhaps with someone we have not yet met…or perhaps with someone seated at this very table."
"Huh—?" Katie's eyes darted to each of the boys in turn. Her gaze was drawn to Oliver first, but sensing he was about to meet it, she felt overcome with mortal shame and quickly looked away. As for where her gaze ended up…
"…Nope, nope, not happening."
Her eyes met the tall boy's by accident, but he waved both hands, wincing like he'd just heard a horrible joke.
Katie smiled like an executioner to a pitiable prisoner. "Marco, put Guy somewhere really high up."
"Mm, okay."
A giant arm reached through the open door from the next room and grabbed Guy bodily. Only then did he realize his blunder.
"W-wait! Sorry, that was my bad! It just caught me off guard, and I let the truth slip ouuuuuuuut!"
Begging for his life, Guy was dragged into the other room. His yelling continued for a while. The larger room's ceiling was a good ten yards high—and was frequently used to punish him. Basking in the sounds of his screams, Katie turned back to her friends.
"Enough about that boor. Shall we continue?"
Her smile alone culled any desire they had to argue in favor of clemency. The other four friends offered Guy a silent apology and pretended not to hear his shrieks.
"Now that you two have a grasp of the situation, let's get down to brass tacks," Oliver said. "First, always have contraceptives on hand. That's just a given. It may sound like an exaggeration now, but when the moment arrives, you might not get any warning. And if you're caught unprepared…well, assume that's the worst-case scenario.
"More than anything, I want you all to bear this in mind: Don't get caught up in a momentary rush of feelings. Once you're calm and thinking clearly, make sure to ask yourself again and again if the person's really worth it. If you aren't completely certain, then no matter who it is or how they're propositioning you, refuse. No need to feel guilty about it. Anyone who doesn't give you time to think is not respecting you."
He held their gaze, speaking firmly.
Chela nodded and added a few thoughts of her own.
"I mostly agree with Oliver there…but I will add that different people may have different ideas of what's 'right.' I should warn you that there's a fairly common belief at Kimberly that you should at least sleep with someone before your fourth year. This is considered helpful advice for students who plan to have a child during their studies here; many problems can arise on your first time, so having some experience before the real deal is considered beneficial. And while I don't endorse the tactic, be aware that others may weaponize their own ephemeral allure in the hopes of landing a 'one-night mistake,' if you will. They may see that as their one and only chance."
"I'd rather you guys not try that yourselves and not fall prey to it, either. Naturally, I'm just speaking as a friend here and can't force you to do anything, of course."
He stifled his frustrations. Ultimately, gathering them here and warning them might not accomplish anything. Whether to follow this advice or ignore it was at their discretion. Anywhere else, a sense of ethics might put the brakes on any unseemly activity, but they were little more than empty platitudes in the hellscape of Kimberly. Gambling on a one-night mistake, too, was merely one of many viable choices here.
"…Oliver," Nanao said, breaking her long silence.
He turned toward her. "Yes, Nanao?"
"Hypothetically speaking, would you want to conceive a child with me?"
A single question turned the room to ice. Everyone but Nanao became frozen to the spot, the only sound the distant echo of Guy's screams.
Chela recovered first and coughed. "…Nanao, that's quite a leap."
"I am aware. But this is uncharted territory for me. I have been swinging a blade on the battlefield for as long as I can remember and thus had no inkling of anyone harboring such desires for me. Affection and love are merely pleasant-sounding words to my ears."
With the motivations behind her question clear, her frozen comrades relaxed. Oliver was still extremely rattled, but Nanao wasn't letting him get away without an answer.
"So I beseech you, Oliver. Is this truly a matter that concerns me? Me, a savage girl who is good for naught but battle—do I possess such value? I ask this of none but yourself, the most forthright of all I have met in this place of learning."
"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━!"
Those eyes of hers bore into him, and Oliver knew…there was no escaping this question.
Yet, he was at a loss. How could he possibly answer this?
He would rather bite his tongue than answer in the negative. That would be as bad as Guy's failure earlier, and it would go against the purpose of this gathering—to impress Nanao's own appeal upon her. Nor did it agree with his own evaluation. Told to wax poetic on the appeal of Nanao Hibiya, he could undoubtedly speak all night.
But if he answered in the affirmative—that would make him no better than the lunchtime intruders. He didn't want that. Regardless of how typical mages thought, he refused to be like them. He didn't want his relationship with Nanao to be reduced to reproduction and inheritance. That—that would be too—
"It's the personality that defines us, Noll. Not talent or blood. Remember that."
The one thing he'd sworn to inherit, whatever his shortcomings as a son.
"...I'll admit…"
His voice shook. But he couldn't say nothing. He had to answer.
"...…I do feel—an attraction."
He could barely force that out. Once spoken, it felt…plain. The bare minimum affirmative response. How much easier would it have been if he could have just treated it like an empty compliment? That was impossible. Especially when she was demanding that he be forthright.
"You do? …Ah. You do." Nanao seemed to be mulling that over.
"I think we're all getting a bit too close for comfort," Chela cut in, as if trying to soothe them both. "Everyone is now aware of the issue at hand, which is success enough for one day. Let's put an end to this discussion for now."
"...Yeah," Katie agreed, looking anxiously from Oliver to Nanao.
Chela gently stroked her hair. "And, Katie…it's high time you forgave Guy."
"He gets ten more minutes," Katie snapped. She did not shave a second off that time.
The group talked for a while longer, then called it a night.
"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━"
"..."
Two AM, in the girls' dorm. Nanao and Katie's room. Both long since in bed, with the lights out.
"...Nanao…are you, um, doing all right?"
"Hmm?"
Lying on her side, Katie had been well aware her roommate was still awake. The Azian girl's breathing made it clear she wasn't sleeping.
"You haven't said a word since we got back, so I thought maybe you were hung up on something… I mean, today was pretty shocking, right? Must've been your first time hearing a lot of that."
Katie was picking her words carefully. There was a noticeable pause before Nanao replied.
"I suppose it did…rattle me. I never imagined I would be desired for anything but my skills in combat… 'Twas a bolt from the blue. Caught me with my defenses down."
"…But it was obvious to the rest of us. You've always been as cute as you are cool. And—"
Katie closed her eyes, picturing everything the Azian girl had done. They were barely at the start of their second year, and she'd already lost count of Nanao's feats. Stopping Marco's rampage on their first day, the garuda attacking the kobold hunt—Nanao had been at the fore of it all.
"—every time I see you fight, I'm struck by your beauty. Girl or boy, everyone stops to stare, captivated. And not for weird or inappropriate reasons."
"You're rather making me squirm, Katie."
Maybe the atmosphere of the meeting still lingered, or she was emboldened by the darkness. Tonight, Katie could say things she'd never dared say before. And that sensation gave her the push she needed—to take the next step.
"Well, since we're already squirming, I might as well ask… Do you love Oliver?"
The silence was palpable. Nanao almost never hesitated, so this felt extra significant.
"I've been pondering exactly that all this while," she said after some thought.
Katie had been well aware of that, of course. She'd known what occupied her friend's mind the entire evening.
"I feel an urge to hear his voice. To be by his side. To touch and hold him. I have no doubts about any of that. Which is why I've stuck to him like a burr since we met."
"...!"
That sure sounded like a confirmation to Katie's ears. A pain shot through her chest. All this time she'd avoided asking because she'd known how Nanao would respond. Nanao wasn't the type to dodge the question or play dumb; Katie, meanwhile, was the one struggling with this answer.
"At the same time, I have a doubt—and a fundamental one," the Azian girl continued. "If you truly love someone, can that emotion coexist with an urge to see them dead?"
Katie had expected the first answer—but not this. Unsettled, she peered through the darkness, trying to see her roommate's face.
"Dead? You want— Wh-what does that mean…?" she managed.
Yet again, Nanao did not mince words. "What I desire most from Oliver is a duel to the death. Since the first time we crossed blades in class, until this very moment—that desire alone has never once wavered."
The steel in her voice made Katie gulp. They'd talked about this once shortly after said match—and she'd never brought it up again. Katie had assumed there was no need. Nanao was always so bright and cheerful; she'd been sure this concern had been long since cleared away. Or at least—she'd tried to convince herself that was true.
"I had hoped that this urge would fade as I spent time with you all. Alas, that was optimistic. The greater my affection for Oliver grows, the more I get to know him, the stronger my desire to cross blades with him. 'Tis like a fever taken hold. My body quivers with an insatiable hunger."
She gave voice to the desire she'd kept hidden—and her words echoed true. The urges Nanao had confessed to back then did not have roots so shallow that time alone could resolve them. They were woven into the very fabric of her character—their tendrils reaching her soul.
"Each time I query what lies within, the answer comes back like the toll of a bell. I wish nothing more than to sink my blade into his body—or feel his blade sink into mine. I replay our brief exchange of blows with the passion of madness. If I could see what lies beyond that exchange, what greater joy would there be…?"
Nanao spoke with palpable heat. Yet, her words sent shivers down Katie's spine. She'd thought her friend was an open book, with nothing to hide. But all along, this obsession had lurked beneath. She felt as if she were glimpsing the flames of a heat beyond imagining. Like peering at a raging inferno through a pane of glass.
"What do you make of it, Katie? Hearing this—would you still say I 'love' Oliver?"
The inferno was looking back at her. Nanao Hibiya sought her friend's opinion. Katie was in no state to answer. Her throat, her tongue, her lips—they had all gone numb. There was a note of desperation to the query—any answer would be tantamount to an affirmation or refutation of Nanao's entire being. Katie had never once been asked anything so significant.
There was a leaden silence. A pregnant pause. The gulf between them was like a raging river that marked the boundary between two countries. And in time, Nanao took that as her answer. Even in the darkness, Katie could tell she took it hard.
"Perhaps not. I suspected as much… Pardon my foolishness."
"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━Ah—"
Katie let out a strangled gasp—feeling as if she'd made a mistake she could never take back.
Yet, still she remained paralyzed, unable to move so much as a finger. Across from her, Nanao slowly sat up in bed, bolt upright on her knees, legs folded under her. A hint of moonlight filtered through the curtains, catching her profile in stark relief. Her expression was cold and remote, like a samurai about to slice her belly open—yet so beautiful it took Katie's breath away.
"I have long been aware. With his consent acquired, then perhaps my urge to slay him would be quelled—but when he harbors no such desire to cross blades, that urge is a beast lurking within the shallows of my conscience. Unfitting the pride a warrior should bear. Far from it—this is the basest of impulses.
"Yet…awareness has done me no good. I have been a fool, allowing myself to dream. Of a day when he responds in kind. Of a day when I can take him on, not as a beast, but as a warrior should."
What she spoke of could never be. To even imagine such a thing was a sin beyond all pardons. How was the shape of her fancy so removed from human morality?
"If…perchance, I can no longer be satisfied with dreams. If I forget my very pride and am reduced to the beast within…"
The words would not stop beating down on her. Nanao was now begging her friend to fulfill a last request.
"If that happens, Katie…I implore you not to hesitate. Let it be your athame that casts a spell—and pierces my heart."
Hearing this hit Katie hard, as if it was her heart that had been pierced. A vivid vision rose up in her mind's eye.
A dreary, unknown place. A shadow before her, bloodstained katana in hand. Innumerable corpses slain by that same blade. The piles of bodies silent, the silence so oppressive it made her ears ring.
And yet, no matter how many the shadow struck down, her hunger was never satiated. All this creature sought was a single boy—the one she had deemed her destiny. Until her blade crossed his, until she felled the one she loved most—her advance would never falter.
And in face of that spectacle, the curly-haired girl drew her athame with shaking hands. The time for words had long since passed—the task she must perform all too clear. As her former friend had once urged, she had come to play her part. She was here to fire a spell through this creature's heart.
She knew nothing could or should be said, yet—oh, yet her lips moved on their own. Her opponent might be transformed beyond all measure, but Katie's feelings had not changed at all.
"…Nanao…!"
Spurred by this vision, the real Katie's body flew out from beneath her sheets. Calling her friend's name, she leaped onto the opposite bed, wrapping her arms around Nanao. Holding her tight, holding her back from that fate.
She knew. Katie was as sure as she'd ever been. What she'd just seen…was Nanao Hibiya consumed by the spell.
"Enjoy not the sword of vengeance but the sword of mutual love," Nanao said, feeling her friend's trembling, the heat of her embrace.
"My one solace through countless battles, the words my father bestowed unto me—now feel like a curse."
The old Nanao could never have imagined any of this. She lived in battle and would die in kind—she'd been certain that was all life held. The manner of her death was all she need consider. Kill or be killed—with no trace of reluctance.
But no more. Strange twists of fate had led her to this school across the sea—and given her a life beyond war. She'd formed ties with friends who wished only for her to live. She was grateful for it—yet her gravest sin was the state of her own heart, unchanged despite all that.
"…Nothing is set in stone. Not yet. Nothing."
Katie's words resisted the Azian girl's resignation. The future she'd glimpsed had not yet come to pass.
"We're only second-years. Our lives here have just started… We're going to have so much fun. There's so many things left to see. Our brooms can take us anywhere. We can play all we like. We're all gonna be together, laughing our heads off. Right…?"
So she gave voice to hope. With strength and verve. As if trying to paint over that potential future.
"And all that time we spend together will drive that thought from your mind. You won't want to fight Oliver to the death anymore… You'll find you'd rather stay close to all of us," Katie insisted. "And one day we'll remember this, and all of us'll make fun of you for it… We'll be like, 'Remember that stuff you used to say? None of that even happened. And you were so serious about it, too! We'll always be together—always—!'"
By the end of it, her voice was choked with tears. Nanao put her hands around her friend's back with the faintest of nods.
"Let us hope," she said. "I would like nothing more."
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