Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: A Murder Without Consequence (1)
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I've been having the same dream repeatedly for the past few days.
"I'm sorry it turned out like this."
My vision is dyed red—whether from the sunset or blood flowing from my cracked skull, I can't tell.
I wanted to say that my choices didn't bring this misfortune, that it was all an elaborately crafted trap….
-Clack.
But now, it's all too late for regrets.
I broke open the revolver I was holding and loaded the last remaining bullet.
-Click!
"Damn."
"…"
The loaded bullet had a 1/2 chance of firing right away. The first one misfiring was a cruel coincidence.
But the next one would definitely hit.
Facing death, the boy—no, young man—standing silently before the gun barrel like the night tilted his head.
His heterochromatic eyes—one red, one purple—were disappearing beneath heavily drooping eyelids.
I had to kill him before his life fully burned out and extinguished.
-Bang!
The bullet, grazing his forehead slightly, headed for his right eye, and the exiting round definitively drew a long, sticky trail of red.
And so, I return.
To the past, before all the misfortune happens.
***
"…that's the dream I had."
"Hmm… that's—"
"Tell me your honest impression."
"Not like you, Senior Arma. It's like a pretentious, embarrassing dream a social misfit would have."
"…"
It was late summer, the 24th one I'd experienced.
The morning at the Royal Aegis Academy—an institution built on an island surrounded by sea on all sides to train the kingdom's elites—was boisterous with the sound of waves.
Even though it was morning, scorching heat was forecasted for the day.
Still, Shirley, who had followed me with her good-natured smile in response to the sudden summons, sat on the railing at the edge of the cliff, swinging her shoe-clad feet as she replied.
Each time, her purple ponytail swayed teasingly, and I furrowed my brow slightly at Shirley's lukewarm reaction while watching it.
"That's too much."
"You asked me to be honest, didn't you? You're really annoying. It took tremendous resolve just for me to come this far."
"Resolve?"
"You're a promiscuous playboy who flirts indiscriminately with men, women, young, and old."
At the "you" part, Shirley's finger, which had been pointing at my face, slyly shifted direction toward "promiscuous."
Shirley was clearly forgetting that she was four years younger than me.
After folding down the finger pointing at me to correct her problematic behavior, I let out a small sigh.
"W-Well… I just have a good eye for spotting others' charms."
And besides, that wasn't the important thing right now.
Shirley, who had completely lost interest in my follow-up excuse, hopped down from the railing where she'd been sitting.
"Gonna go on that spiel again? 'I, Arma Cruise, was born the son of a merchant, so I have an eye for the value of things' or whatever~."
"…You mean [Cruise Family Motto Article 1: Pierce Through Value, Not Weight]…?"
"Something like that?"
Not even close—it was a reinterpretation that would make our family head, my mother, faint in shock.
In any case, the idea that I'm a promiscuous playboy is all a misunderstanding.
Someday, I hoped to clear it up, but now wasn't the time.
Today, the holster tucked inside my shirt felt especially heavy.
This revolver—specially permitted for me, a non-mage, as an exception in the Aegis Academy teeming with high-risk black mages—might have to be turned in soon.
"So, who was the guy who got shot in the eye in your dream?"
"Theodore White."
"Pfft, seriously?"
Shirley, who had hopped down from the railing and was now performing precarious acrobatics with her back to the sheer cliff, made a deflated face.
Her eyes, closer to wine than grape in color, were half-hidden beneath lowered eyelids.
"What do you mean, 'seriously'? That deflated reaction—what's that about?"
"Theodore, you mean that guy, right? From the Crown of Thorns Class—oh, speak of the devil, there he is."
Shirley pointed toward the distance with the same finger she'd used to jab at me moments ago.
The spot I'd chosen for our secret talk was the southernmost point of the Royal Aegis Academy, the garden behind the Wooden Crucifix Class, which specialized in performing arts and athletics.
Meanwhile, the place Shirley indicated was likewise the westernmost tip of the Royal Aegis Academy, the garden behind the Crown of Thorns Class, which majored in black magic, also known as demonology.
Beyond those, the academy also had the Black Lily Class for divine studies and the Silver Chalice Class for humanities, but running into them wasn't easy.
The island where the academy stood was shaped like an upside-down star, and the Black Lily and Silver Chalice Classes were positioned at the far opposite points.
Thus, aside from students from the adjacent Crown of Thorns Class, encounters with those from other classes in the garden were extremely rare.
"What an amusing coincidence."
"Amusing? Compared to other classes, it's easy to run into Crown of Thorns students. So I can kinda guess what your dream was about."
While leading Shirley—who was now hanging from the railing with one foot off the ground, pulled even further into a more dangerous stunt—back inside the railing, I reluctantly shifted my gaze westward.
'He's really there.'
In the distance, I spotted the side profile of Theodore, the young elite majoring in black magic: a noble young master with his ash-gray hair tied in a half-up short bob.
'He's nineteen, I think? Looks young for his age. Or rather, younger than in the dream.'
"…Ugh!"
"Senior? What's wrong?"
"No, it's nothing. Just a sudden migraine."
"Sudden headaches aren't good, right? Let me see."
Ever since that dream, my condition hadn't been great.
Even though I hadn't actually been at that ruined place, upon waking, my whole body throbbed as if I'd been beaten.
As if I'd been overtaken by the events in the dream.
But right now, the pain was for a different reason.
"Sh-Shirley… what you're doing isn't helping me at all. Is this physical therapy?"
"Hmph, and here I was worrying about you."
What Shirley meant as concern was absolutely not something you do to someone with a migraine—grabbing their head and lifting it up.
Theodore sat on the bench, gazing quietly at his hands resting on his knees, oblivious to our commotion.
"It's so hot, yet he's wearing his winter uniform—what's he doing? There's not even a breeze today."
"He's probably just out sunning himself."
"That's what's weird about it. Why wear a full winter uniform alone under this blazing sun?"
Like our Wooden Crucifix Class garden, the Crown of Thorns Class garden was also perilously enclosed by flimsy railings along a steep cliff edge.
Such half-hearted safety measures usually sparked students' adventurous spirits.
That's why the railings often suffered from pranksters like Shirley, who interpreted safety rules in their own way.
Fortunately, the Crown of Thorns students seemed to be well-behaved young masters, so no such issues there.
Was this the difference between performing arts and demonology majors?
"Shooting someone in a dream just because they caught my eye? Should I book a counseling session?"
"Huh? But, Senior."
"To think such violent instincts were lurking in my subconscious—unbelievable."
"You don't actually need my response, do you?"
After catching Shirley mid-leap back onto the railing and setting her down on the ground, I sighed.
"If I become a social misfit, it's straight to the monastery after graduation. Turning vegetarian now? No way in hell—"
"Ugh, Senior, you're rambling like crazy today. No, look over there."
Before I could despair over my ascetic future, Shirley abruptly strode up, grabbed me, and spun me around to face the Crown of Thorns Class directly.
As expected of the strongest woman in the Wooden Crucifix Class in terms of raw power—it was a clean drive-shot with no chance to resist.
I prayed the hair I'd casually swept behind my ear hadn't come loose (a product of strict family upbringing) and feigned composure.
"Theo—!"
"Hey, hold on."
The bellow that rumbled from her dantian like a foghorn made Theo, who had been meekly staring at his own hands, turn toward us.
Not just me—Shirley had no real connection to Theodore either, so why was she being so brazen?
I hurriedly racked my brain, weighing a sudden weather comment against preachy life advice to pick the less off-putting one, and opened my mouth.
"Th-Theodore! Uh, the weather today and that eyepatch are really… Huh?"
My deliberations proved pointless as words failed me, and I pointed at Theodore like an idiot.
Theodore had turned his face toward us but stayed frozen, fixing his gaze on us.
"Your eyepatch…"
Now I'd devolved into the worst kind of geezer nitpicking appearances.
Shirley quickly took over for my flustered self.
"Theo! Winter uniforms start next month. Keep that up, and you'll end up in the disciplinary office!"
At Shirley's shout, Theodore reacted a beat late.
He gave a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgment before slowly rising from his seat.
"Senior, even so, commenting on his looks is kinda much, right? He might think you're mocking his eyepatch."
"Shirley. When did that kid start wearing the eyepatch?"
"When? Are you really still half-asleep?"
Shirley was clearly suspecting that in the dream, it was I who got shot in the head, not Theodore.
After narrowing her eyes and staring up at my face with a serious expression for several minutes, Shirley finally spoke.
"Theo was injured in an accident right after birth, remember? As for the eyepatch—well, his older sister would know better than me."
That's exactly the problem with the eyepatch.
The black eyepatch covering Theodore White's right eye was utterly unfamiliar to me.
In my memory, Theodore White was a dignified young master with noble crimson eyes—one red, one purple.