Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: A Stage Without Actors (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The intermittent fainting spells akin to unconsciousness over the past day and night, coupled with my hazy mental state, only amplified my confusion.
All I could do was stare perplexedly at Theodore, who wore an indifferent expression as if what was unfolding before him was someone else's affair rather than his own.
"A trap?"
"The reason I came here was because I received a letter from Arma Cruise."
"I never sent it."
"..."
Instead of replying, Theodore nodded.
There was that nagging feeling that he always clammed up at crucial moments, but since he was the quiet type to begin with, this was the first time we'd exchanged so many words today.
"I did think it was strange. A meeting place in the chapel at midnight? Suspicious. The letter itself had uneven spacing and line breaks. Check if anyone's stolen your notebooks or stationery."
"...You've got sharp eyes."
Once again, the conversation cut off at an awkward timing.
After murmuring that it seemed like someone had tried to imitate my handwriting, Theodore fell silent and crawled under my armpit.
"Leave it."
My mind was already like a candle flame flickering on the verge of extinction, ready to snuff out at the slightest provocation.
I'd tried talking to Theodore to chase away the sleep, but it was futile.
Even so, he kept burrowing under my arm, trying to rouse me.
Most cadets in the Crown of Thorns Class possessed magical aptitude, but using magic privately within the academy grounds was strictly forbidden.
That was why Theodore, who would graduate to become a renowned black mage, was going to such lengths himself.
"If you pass out, it'll be even harder to move you...."
Moving an unconscious person was tough enough as it was, and Theodore was about 10 cm shorter than me.
The guy I'd first encountered in the chapel had screamed and fled, so it wouldn't be long before the student council or guards showed up.
"So don't fall asleep."
I staggered unintentionally, brushing against Theodore's eyepatch.
The eyepatch, secured by a strap, slipped loose, leaving only one loop, and dangled around his neck like a necklace.
"Ugh, damn.... Sorry."
Nothing was going right; not a single thing fell into place as I wanted.
Theodore ignored the loosened eyepatch hanging around his neck and forcibly propped me up.
I barely lifted my head to meet his gaze, where two luminous purple irises gleamed faintly under the moonlight.
'The inside of the eyepatch must be a prosthetic eye.'
Yet for some reason, seeing those eyes brought back the dream from last night.
Unconsciously, I kept comparing them to the red and purple eyes of Theodore White from my memories, sensing an odd dissonance with the Theodore before me.
Theodore maturely ignored the suspicion in my eyes that I hadn't managed to conceal.
"Every time they fitted me with a prosthetic, the family held a meeting."
"...A meeting?"
Theodore seemed to have noticed that I perked up mentally whenever we conversed.
I straightened my posture with effort and, taking nearly half-steps at a time, began exiting the chapel as he continued murmuring almost to himself.
"My nursemaid, who accepted me at birth, told me the lost eye was originally red."
It was a chilling statement.
Coming straight from Theodore's own mouth, no less—that he had heterochromia.
And not just any; the rare combination of red and purple that I'd dismissed as delusion for being too far-fetched...
But that chill soon turned to dread.
There was no rational way to explain this bizarre reality where my dream brushed against actuality.
"So they argued fiercely every time over whether to match the original eye's red or the remaining one's purple. The material was garnet either way, so it could go either direction."
Listening to him, the prosthetic eye did seem to sparkle a bit more vividly.
"So the current color.... Whose idea was it?"
"Mine."
"Can I ask why?"
"Because if Theodore White had a red eye and a purple eye, it'd be too many colors."
It was exactly the same thought I'd had.
I glanced at Theodore and slyly lifted the corner of my mouth.
Theodore, sweat now trickling down his forehead without him bothering to wipe it, dragged me along toward a hidden corridor at the back of the chapel leading to the reliquary.
'...There's a place like this....'
I knew there was a reliquary here, but I'd never imagined a direct corridor from the chapel.
Just then, as if snapping me from my reverie, a crow perched atop the chapel's pointed spire watching us let out a long caw, leaving a noisy echo.
I glanced back at the receding chapel, piecing together what had happened so far.
"The letter. You have it?"
"Yes. But whether I have it or not, clearing suspicion won't be easy."
"It's fine. Put it in my pocket now."
Theodore quietly leaned me against his shoulder, rummaged in his pocket, and pulled out a scrap of white paper.
Since he'd touched me while I was covered in blood, red fingerprints naturally stained the back wherever he gripped.
He tucked the scrap into my jacket and resumed supporting my weight with difficulty.
'Midnight. Difference between the first visitor and Theodore.'
My overtaxed brain groaned under the strain of thinking in this debilitated state.
But instinctively, I knew if not now, there'd be no time to think.
'No body, but witnesses.'
Theodore's exhausted body grew hotter as time passed.
In this condition, neither of us could flee far.
I'd thought we'd run for ages, but staggering along, we ended up at a storeroom next to the reliquary for ritual implements—barely five minutes at a normal walking pace.
If someone was seriously pursuing us, we might've faced a pathetic end.
"Theodore, I need a favor."
Theodore lowered his eyelids slightly, his expression shifting subtly.
From our brief exchanges, I'd learned that expression meant he was listening, so without waiting for a verbal reply, I got straight to the point.
"Shirley—no, Judith's dorm is closer from here. Get Judith."
But even after hearing me, Theodore didn't budge.
He just stood there, still as a finely carved statue.
"...What are you doing?"
"Would Senior Judith come just because I called her?"
"Oh."
Come to think of it, as a Crown of Thorns Class cadet, Theodore might know Judith's face but not have the chance to build rapport. His worry was natural.
To avoid stirring up dust, I carefully leaned deep against the storeroom wall, away from the white-clothed piles of ritual gear.
"Tell her I want back what I gave her last summer."
Theodore tilted his head slightly, clearly puzzled.
A natural reaction.
The message I asked him to relay wasn't from any real event last year; it was a code tied to the 'incident' when Judith and I first met.
That summer, she'd forced a pledge on me to grant any unreasonable request up to three times.
I'd never imagined invoking that pledge, no matter how high-handedly she'd imposed it, but the timing was uncannily perfect.
"...And be careful not to approach the crow. It's in a very agitated state."
"..."
Theodore nodded faintly at my words, then slipped quietly out of the storeroom.
Unlike the clumsy thudding steps while supporting me earlier, his exit was ghostly silent and swift.
Arthur Usher was one thing, but how did Theodore manage to move so stealthily and obediently? It was a wonder.
"Hoo...."
Only after Theodore vanished could I finally organize my thoughts.
If the bizarre events befalling me over these two days were due to someone's meddling, there had to be some ulterior motive.
I couldn't yet grasp what that shadowy figure wanted from me, but I could at least find a way to unravel the immediate crisis.
'First, I need to meet Judith.'
Truth be told, calling Judith instead of Shirley was to verify something.
Even if my deduction proved correct upon seeing her in person, plenty of problems would remain—but at least one fact would be certain.
-Crash!
While I chewed the inside of my cheek to stay awake, a commotion erupted outside the storeroom.
"Hurry and search!"
"What about the west side?"
"Already checked."
It was the guards, belatedly arrived, scouring for a presumed killer in hiding.
I prayed desperately that Judith and Theodore could slip through the chaos unharmed.
Dragging Judith into this was deeply regrettable, but I believed this incident could be resolved more easily than it seemed.
"Arma."
My heavy eyelids were on the verge of closing completely.
At the low whisper in my ear, reassuring me, I barely snapped awake to Judith's voice.
"Judith."
"You're not some five-year-old kid, but you cause this much chaos every time I look away."
"This one's a bit unfair, though...."
"Yeah, this one does seem unfair."
Lifting my head, I saw Judith—her blue hair tied low, clearly prepared—gazing at me affectionately.
Theodore soon crawled in after her, crouching low to peer down the corridor like a lookout.
"Stories later."
Like Theodore, Judith slipped her head under my arm and hoisted me up effortlessly.
As a Swordmaster Class student, she lifted me far more easily than he had.
Gazing down at Judith's arm wrapped around my waist, I slowly closed my eyes.
'No fingers....'
Contrary to my memory, what adorned Judith's hand was none other than a prosthetic.
As if bolstering my deduction, the scene from the dream slowly overlapped.
-Arma!
Me hurling myself toward the cliff, and Judith grabbing me.
-With things like this.... I guess I owe you an apology.
Me aiming a gun at such a Judith's hand.
The gunshot echoing, and Judith's fingers vanishing.
This added one more thing I had to prove.
The whereabouts of the missing body, the identity of the culprit who framed me, and whether the murder from my dream was influencing reality.
read all chapters at NovelsHub.org