The Delinquent and the Fraudulent Student (2)
Unlike the students and teachers of the school, who all spoke in soft and measured tones, the boy's way of speaking was crude.
"Freshmen struggling not to flunk — what do they know about drinking? Give me whatever's left."
"There's really none left today, you brat. The kid who came late for lunch took it all."
Cleio glanced quietly toward the kitchen.
Outside the back door, a boy with disheveled hair was being smacked with a tray by the lunch lady.
"Ma'am! I got you those talismans, and even went to the black market for you! Isn't it thanks to me that things went well with Mr. Thompson?"
"This damn kid—no filter on that mouth of yours! Do you even know how much liquor you've drunk away?"
"With how much tuition this school costs, it won't go bankrupt just because I had a little drink."
"Looks like that mouth of yours won't shut unless it's hit some more."
"Ah—! Ma'am!"
'A school errand boy, maybe?'
Even though the Royal Capital Defense Academy had only about 160 students total across all four grades, they employed just as many servants to look after their daily needs.
With so much work to be done, it wasn't strange that there were kids around to run small errands besides the official staff.
'Hmm… I guess that makes sense.'
Judging by the look of things, the students here hardly ever drank during the day. The leftover liquor must have been the boy's payment for errands.
Strictly speaking, Cleio's own life hadn't been that of a privileged "gold spoon" student either—it was closer to that boy's.
Feeling slightly awkward for having dashed the boy's hope for a good drink, Cleio returned his tray and dishes to the lunch lady, then picked up the bottle that still had some liquor left.
"Ma'am."
"Oh, you finished your meal?"
The same lunch lady who'd been walloping the boy just moments ago now smiled kindly as if nothing had happened.
"Yes, it was delicious. Thank you. I ordered too much, though — there's some liquor left. Should I return it?"
"Oh… so you heard what that rascal said, huh. It's fine, take it with you. It's your share, student."
"Ma'am said he could drink it, see? Hi there — you're giving that bottle to me, right?"
"Uh… sure."
"Thanks!"
"Don't you dare step in here with those filthy boots! Out, you brat!"
The boy, wearing mud-caked boots, darted in at a speed too quick to follow and snatched up two glasses of water.
When crouched, Cleio hadn't noticed, but the kid was tall, with big hands. Holding two glass cups in one hand and the bottle in the other, the boy called out to Cleio.
"You look like someone who knows a good drink."
"What, do you know me?"
"Nope, not a clue. But come on, let's share what's left."
Cleio hesitated — a little, no, quite a bit.
He had no intention of clinking glasses with some kid he'd just met, but...
'Ugh.'
…the thought of having one more glass of that wine, now that its aroma had changed at room temperature, won out.
"Let's go somewhere without people."
"This school's full of places like that."
"…Fine."
Even if expulsion was the goal, wasn't it overdoing things to be an outcast, a fraudulent student, a failed suicide, and a seventeen-year-old who day-drank in broad daylight?
·
·
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The deeper they went, the denser the forest became. The old trees, as ancient as the school itself, cast cool shadows.
At last, they came to a clearing where four weathered stone markers stood at the cardinal points.
At the center of the four stones rose the remains of a structure — the fragment of a single wall from a long-ruined building.
"A ruin in the middle of the school?"
"You sure you're a student here? This is Mnemosyne's Gate. They say it connects to another world or something."
"So this is that thing…"
Mnemosyne's Gate wasn't much of a "gate" at all — more a chunk of wall, with a pillar and a doorframe still attached.
Its decorative carvings had fallen away, and the green-mossed limestone frame, even to Cleio's untrained eye, looked like it had stood there for over a thousand years.
"Didn't think it'd look this shabby."
"Still, they say monsters used to pop out from here ages ago. That's why no one comes around anymore. Perfect spot for a drink, right?"
The boy plopped down first. Cleio sat a short distance away, leaning his back against one of the stone markers.
Words weren't really necessary. The boy poured the wine into the glasses and handed one over, and Cleio focused on the drink alone.
The half-empty bottle didn't last long — just a couple of rounds, and they were at the final glass.
Warm and dizzy, Cleio felt almost elated.
The boy, smiling goofily, was the first to introduce himself.
"I'm Leo. You?"
"Me?"
'He doesn't know who I am? Well, fair enough — if he's not a student, maybe not.'
Cleio finally took a proper look at the boy.
'Now that I look closely, he's not bad-looking… but that appearance—'
The boy's messy blond hair was dry and dusty, his patchy beard speckled with grime, and his jawline barely visible. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled, making their color hard to discern.
"Name's Ray."
"Oh, sounds like mine! No wonder we both like to drink."
"Stop spouting nonsense and drink the rest."
"Small guy like you, but you sure talk snappy for a prissy face."
Cleio's assumption that he'd never see the boy again turned out to be entirely wrong.
Skipping classes and showing up just for lunch, Cleio always ran into Leo in the dining hall. Before long, the two had become something close to drinking buddies.
Before he knew it, Cleio found himself being dragged around by the ever-energetic Leo — fly-fishing in the school's brook (where he caught nothing and got teased for it), or watching him hunt birds.
It was a pastoral, peaceful kind of life — the sort of life Cleio had never experienced at seventeen.
'Back then, all I did was study and dream of getting into a Seoul university. Life was miserable and rough.'
In his rural hometown, he'd been considered a decent student. That spared him from bullying, but he didn't have any friends either.
He couldn't afford private tutoring, so he studied with teacher's editions of textbooks and free school computer lectures.
Without money, time was the only resource he could spend to chase a college dream.
Even if he could go back, it wasn't a time he wanted to relive.
It was only after arriving in the world of the manuscript that Cleio could finally live a carefree seventeen-year-old life—without worrying about his future or his finances.
Naturally, that included drinking.
Leo, the commoner boy who didn't know who "Cleio" truly was, turned out to be surprisingly pleasant company for afternoon drinks.
The boy carried around a pouch full of odds and ends—errand notes, birds he'd hunted with a slingshot, and even fishing bait made from feathers he'd strung together. He was clever, sociable, and brimming with restless energy.
Today, Leo was fiddling with a small dagger he'd somehow gotten his hands on. The way he made the blade glimmer in the light was almost magical.
Cleio, setting down the ceramic jug of wine, asked,
"What's that?"
"Just a little handiwork."
"Impressive."
Leo stared at him fixedly, as if gauging his reaction. Cleio frowned and met his gaze.
"What are you staring at?"
"I just thought you'd sound more amazed. You're kind of deadpan."
"What kind of reaction were you hoping for? If you want someone to praise you, show it off to the errand kids."
"Ahaha, with how I look right now, you think any of them would even talk to me?"
"You've got a point. Still, at least wash yourself once in a while."
"Ugh, too much effort. It'll rain eventually, right?"
"You're too lazy for your own good."
"Says the guy who's so lazy he's skipping expensive classes. You've got some nerve lecturing me."
"Hey! That's not laziness. I just have… a congenital aversion to lectures."
"Final exams are coming up soon. Keep skipping and you'll get expelled."
As expected of someone who did errands around the school, Leo was well-informed about the academy's rules.
"If I get expelled, I can just lie in bed all day. Sounds perfect to me."
"You said you're in the Magic Department, right? Isn't that a waste?"
"What's there to waste?"
"You've got ether sensitivity—people would kill for that talent. Don't you care about success?"
"Why would I? The best life is one spent lying down and drinking. If I become a knight or mage, I'll just get dragged around by the government and worked to death."
Thinking ahead to how the manuscript's story would unfold, Cleio knew a war wasn't far off — five years away at most, if things followed the original plot.
But since he'd already changed parts of the story, who knew how it would turn out? If he stayed enrolled too long, he'd end up drafted. All academy students were subject to compulsory service.
'To hell with noblesse oblige. I'd rather drop out than go through the military again.'
Having already completed service in his original life, Cleio knew he could never endure it again.
His goal was clear: get expelled as soon as possible, return to his family estate in Colpos, and live quietly.
'He's my father, after all — he wouldn't throw me out. And even if he did, forty thousand dinars should last me for a while.'
From what he'd learned so far, forty thousand dinars had about the same value as four hundred million won. That was one of the few things keeping him sane.
"Wow, you really don't hold back… I like that attitude," Leo grinned.
"Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?"
"I made a copy of the key to the professors' dorm wine cellar. I was planning to share it with someone I liked. But if you're not interested…"
"Leo, you're a remarkable man."
And so, the two boys conspired to sneak into the professors' dorm that night.
Leo kept watch while Cleio — smaller in build — slipped through the door gap and stole two bottles of wine.
When they took a closer look, it turned out to be the Budigala Wine that Behemoth had been begging for.
Even at a glance, it looked expensive. Its color and texture resembled a Bordeaux. Even when roughly poured into the wooden cups Leo had brought, its fragrance was exquisite.
Cleio Asser's carefree life shattered in just one week.
There hadn't been any mention in the manuscript of an underground student newspaper circulating on campus.
Even if he had known, how could he have imagined anyone would care enough to track the lowest-ranked student in the school?