"Race strategy, pacing, when to make your move… and even how to grip the turf with your hooves! Good lord, I have to learn all of this!"
Curled up on a soft sofa, Sunday Serenity let out a pained groan under the dim lamplight, a sound reminiscent of a student reacting to a teacher assigning two whole workbooks due the next morning. The book in her hands was the source of her distress.
It was studying! Actual academic work!
Sure, she'd once fantasized about being a secret academic ace, rising to the top of the school ranks.
You know, the classic trope: maintain average grades normally, then clash with some arrogant, top-ranked students who look down on everyone, only to effortlessly surpass them and claim the academic throne.
But in Sunday Serenity's personal ranking of 'coolness,' this kind of brainy, intellectual 'cool' paled in comparison to the action-hero type. So, she'd indefinitely shelved that particular fantasy.
Admittedly, the idea of having the skills of a top student and pulling the strings behind the scenes really appealed to her. But you have to consider the time, place, and setting.
Unfortunately, she was born in an infuriatingly peaceful country. There were no thieves stealing state secrets, no secret organizations plotting to overthrow the government, not even any mad scientists trying to plunge the world into crisis. The peace was downright annoying.
Maybe in the turbulent, faction-ridden Middle Ages of Europe such opportunities existed. But she was born in the modern era, with its comprehensive legal surveillance.
There were no mysterious organizations lurking in the shadows; just corrupt, incompetent capitalists. How was she supposed to be a mastermind pulling the strings under these circumstances?
And so, Sunday Serenity, lacking any specialized training for this, found herself facing a real challenge. She could read news magazines full of politics and economics, study The Art of War and other military texts, set traps, survive independently… but she absolutely loathed reading these text-heavy educational books.
It was enough to make her head spin.
"You can ignore the dense text for now," a voice suggested. "There are pictures, aren't there? You could start by memorizing those."
"The pictures are a lifesaver, honestly. My visual memory is pretty good. Why can't the whole book just use pictures?"
"Probably worried it would look like a comic book and not be taken seriously."
"So formalistic…"
Grumbling, Sunday Serenity nonetheless obediently started reading the text. She at least needed to understand the racetrack layouts and race distances during this time, lest she end up in a 2400-meter [Japan Derby] and accidentally charge onto the 3000-meter course. Just the thought of that scenario was suffocating.
That's why they had come to Manhattan Cafe's mysterious classroom earlier that day, retrieving a few reference books from the desks. This empty classroom, requested by Cafe for storage, was rarely visited, especially since it was on a different floor from the regular classrooms.
That morning, the room was so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat. Not that Sunday Serenity was afraid of the Emperor's ghostly minions tracking her down.
After changing into the school uniform, she was practically indistinguishable from Cafe herself. Even if someone saw her, they'd just assume it was Cafe and leave after a brief question.
With this doppelganger assurance, she felt fearless.
Just as Sunday Serenity was furrowing her brow, desperately trying to map out the racetrack configurations in her mind, the classroom door swung open without warning.
A girl in a light blue uniform walked in. Untidy brown hair fell to her shoulders, and her gold-red eyes seemed dull, as if bored with everything outside her own thoughts. Spotting the black-haired girl in the room, she gently stroked her chin, a playful smirk touching her lips.
"Well, well, if it isn't Cafe. Slinking back here too? Find the lectures so mind-numbingly boring that even breathing in your seat feels like a waste of time? Needed an excuse to slip away?"
Hearing the heavily teasing tone, Sunday Serenity closed her book.
"Agnes Tachyon," Sunday Silence explained from beside her. "Cafe's classmate."
"My apologies, I forgot my key when I left this morning. Would you mind letting me through?"
Let her through? To where?
Agnes Tachyon waved a hand and walked towards the wall opposite the sofa. Her fingers fiddled with something, and the starry sky wallpaper covering the entire wall slid open.
What? It's just a curtain?
Only then did Sunday Serenity realize the room was divided by a thick curtain. The mysterious half they were in belonged to Manhattan Cafe.
The other half… Sunday Serenity looked over and was at a loss for words.
Lab benches lined half the room, crowded with complex chemical apparatus. Tall storage shelves were packed with glass bottles containing liquids of various colors.
Some of the bottles even glowed with a strange light, as if some chemical reaction was ongoing. In the center of the floor, a mountain of papers and drafts reached waist-high, and from within the pile, she could faintly hear the beeping of electronic equipment.
It was like opening Pandora's Box. As the curtain was drawn back, the distinctive smell of a laboratory wafted out, assaulting her nostrils.
What the hell?
No sane person could figure out how these two rooms were supposed to fit together. One half was mysticism, the other half hard science.
Didn't they fight?
"Initially, Agnes Tachyon didn't pay much mind to Cafe," Sunday Silence murmured. "As a theorist and researcher, she was more interested in treating Cafe's 'clairvoyant' abilities as a research subject."
"She saw this place as part of her experimental observation?"
"More or less," Sunday Silence replied.
"Then their relationship can't be good…"
No one wants a researcher sitting next to them all day, observing and jotting down their every word and action like they're some lab animal.
"Not only that," Sunday Silence continued, "but she often doubted Cafe's claims. She argued that 'ghosts'—immaterial entities existing only as consciousness, unobservable—were most likely the result of sensory anomalies."
Sight, hearing, touch, smell, taste. Human perception of the world is built on these five senses, and human theoretical knowledge is founded upon them. No instrument has ever proven the existence of ghosts. Therefore, Agnes Tachyon declared that 'ghosts' were probably hallucinations caused by sensory malfunctions.
One can imagine how vehemently she denied Cafe's experiences back then.
"But their relationship doesn't seem so strained now?"
"Because I made her tone it down a little."
Ah, I see…
Sunday Serenity looked at Agnes Tachyon with a newfound sense of sympathy.
You've been marked by a ghost.
Having returned to her side, Agnes Tachyon unlocked the door connecting the two halves. Although connected, the two usually held keys only to their respective halves and didn't casually enter each other's territory. Today was a special case.
Turning back, Agnes Tachyon slumped over her cluttered desk, yawning as if she hadn't slept well. She glanced sideways, her dark, abyssal red eyes noticing that the curtain she'd pushed aside had caught on the corner of her desk, leaving a wide gap in the middle.
The 'Manhattan Cafe' on the sofa, her golden eyes glowing faintly in the yellowish light, was watching her.
"Sorry, Cafe. You don't mind if I crash here for a bit, do you?"
"I don't mind."
"How kind and considerate," Agnes Tachyon said slowly.
But just as she was about to close her eyes for a nap, her heart gave a sudden, sharp thud.
'Tell me… do you know the legend of the Three Goddesses?'
--+--
T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 3 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
[email protected]/AspenTL
If you guys wanna check it out.