The dormitories were just up ahead, but in the way were two students having a public spat. More than a few other examination hopefuls had gathered in a rough circle to watch the two go at it.
And Mal? Mal was right there in the crowd, watching.
There were two boys. One went to the left, one to the right. The one on the left had noticeably pointed ears and bright, choppy red hair. His green eyes seemed to reflect the color of the surrounding grass, despite the frustrated expression on his face. His clothes were a bright mix of green and white, puffs on his legs that vaguely reminded Mal of marshmallows.
Mal would recognize that face anywhere. The future Herald of glory, one of the most deadly and powerful mages that Mal had ever had the displeasure of fighting against: Rolam Knilum.
And he was currently in the middle of a schoolyard fight with some random teenager.
Granted, Mal would give said random teenager credit. The teenager had one of the most glorious haircuts Mal had ever seen. His blond pompadeour dwarfed his own head, long luscious locks spilling over his shoulders. He was dressed in something a bit more traditional—some sort of navy-blue suit with frills around the shoulders.
"You take that back!" Rolam's fist clenched tightly. "Or else I'll . . . I'll—"
"You're what?" The other boy put his hands on his hips and laughed. "There's nothing you can do. Fight me? Sure, and ruin your chances of being accepted. Go ahead, throw the first punch. I'm sure the examiners would love to hear all about it."
"That's right." A boy behind the first stepped forward and cracked his knuckles. "Go for it."
The third boy was twice the size of the other two—and he was very clearly on the side of the blondie with the pompadeour.
Rolam's face turned bright red, and his hand seemed to twitch like he was about to jump forward and strangle the other boy.
Mal had two choices.
He could either move on and pretend he didn't see any of this . . .
Or he could get involved.
Obviously, siding with the random racist jerk was a no-go. What would even be the point? What would be the benefit? Mal was pretty sure there would be none.
But siding with Rolam . . . Now there was an intriguing idea.
Right now, Rolam didn't seem like much. A D-rank core and middling magic control. Mal remembered that during his school years, Rolam had been more or less forgettable.
But the boy had potential. In six years, he would be strong enough to challenge Mal in head-to-head combat.
Sure, Mal had managed to squeeze out a win, but it'd been a damn close thing.
How delightfully twisted. To get one of the heroes' greatest companions, the Herald of glory himself, in his debt.
There was a certain poetry to it that Mal enjoyed.
Having made his decision, he stepped forward.
"Master?" Lusia said.
"Just a moment, Lusia. I'm sure that we can all come to a compromise."
To Mal's surprise, there were a few seconds of quiet, and Lusia's footsteps joined his own as she fell in line behind him.
Then one of her briefcases unlatched and all of Mal's clothes tumbled to the floor.
Mal turned and glanced at her along with half the crowd of students. She remained completely still before she dropped to her knees and hurridly stuffed the clothes back into her suitcase.
Both of the boys turned to look at Mal and Lusia. The one who'd been insulting Rolam stared at Mal.
"Who are you supposed to be?" he asked. "And what the hell is wrong with your maid?
Mal shrugged and slipped his hands into his pockets. "Just a curious observer. Can I ask what the issue is?"
"Stay out of it," the boy sneered and glared at Mal. "This isn't any of your business."
The giant boy standing to the right nodded. "Get away, or you're going to hurt for it."
"Unfortunately, you made it my business as soon as you did this in a public area."
The boy rolled his eyes.
"There's nothing stopping you from walking away. I would advise you to do so."
Rolam looked back and forth between the boy and the newcomer. He hadn't said anything, there was a clear expression of confusion on his face, his eyebrows furrowed together like he wasn't sure what to make of Mal.
"Anyway, you were talking about how the school would never side with the guy because he's half elf?" Mal shrugged and let out an easy smile. "I think the situation changes quite substantially when they find out the extent to which you were goading him."
The boy's expression shifted from condescension to a more calculating look. He straightened himself up and looked at Mal, eyes focused.
"Are you saying you'd be one of these witnesses?"
"I'm sure someone here would be. Either way, a little bit of a miscalculation on your part."
The boy continued to stare at Mal before he finally clapped his hands together, and his face broke into a wide grin.
"I was wondering where I recognized you from," he said. "You're the F-grade, aren't you? And that's your little magicless maid, too."
Magicless?
Now that was rare. F-grade cores existed, Mal had one. They were uncommon sure, but you'd run across one once in a blue moon.
But being outright magicless? Mal had only met two who had such a condition.
Once again, Mal cursed the fact that he'd wasted his first life ignoring this information.
Mal tilted his head. "You've heard of me?"
"Of course I have." The boy leaned in, his eyes contemptuous and his lips lifted into a smirk. "Who hasn't heard of you? The heir to a dying family, the latest in a long line of failures. Somehow, you managed to surpass everyone who came before you." The boy clicked his tongue and shook his head. "An F-grade core, something never before seen in a noble family in a thousand years. I'm almost impressed."
Mal squinted his eyes. There was something extremely familiar about this boy.
"Have I met you somewhere before?"
The boy's smirk widened, and he leaned back. He put his hand to his chest in a dramatic fashion.
"But of course," he said. "My name is Hypode, first heir to the Riant family. You might know me as one of only five A-rank cores entering the examination this year."
"No, not that. I don't ever remember hearing about that."
Hypode frowned sharply and let out a scoff.
"Unsophisticated swine. Typical that your family out in the boonies has no idea of current happenings."
"Hey, leave them alone! This is between you and me!"
Rolam marched up to Hypode and put himself in front of Mal. Mal blinked, unsure what to make of this event. Less than an hour ago, they'd been fighting to the death. Now he was apparently… defending him?
Time travel was weird.
"And the F-core needs a halfbreed to defend him. This is just all sorts of pathetic." Hypode looked up at the sky, his expression turning thoughtful. "The most interesting part is that despite your mongrel status, both of your parents' cores are high quality. You should be stronger than what you are, and yet you're a mere D-rank core. With a B-rank and an A-rank, the odds of getting a D-rank or something close to… what is it, 35 percent? Seems the odds were in your favor, but you still managed to screw it up."
Rolam's face had squinted together, his body shaking more and more as Hypode talked.
"I don't even know what you're talking about!" Rolam shouted. "Stop speaking in ancient languages and let's just fight!"
"It's not ancient languages, it's just numbers." Hypode scoffed and crossed his arms. "You really are quite stupid, aren't you?"
Rolam was about to launch forward when Mal put his hand on his shoulder. Rolam looked back in confusion.
Mal stepped forward and looked Hypode in the eyes.
Mal wasn't angry. He hadn't taken any of Hypode's insults to heart. They were bratty schoolyard taunts, nothing more. Mal had faced far worse than that.
Nor was Mal angry on Rolam's behalf. Mal had been enemies with the man an hour ago. Now they were strangers. Mal was a lot of things, but compassionate and empathetic enough to get angry on behalf of a stranger? No.
No, he wasn't angry.
He was just annoyed.
The guy just kept on talking and talking and talking—and it was all just this bizarre mixture of virulent and boring. Mal would be impressed if not for the fact that the man's voice seemed to grate against his ears like scraping meetal.
Mal furrowed his eyebrows together.
Didn't this guy die from choking on a grape or something? And that was after he opposed the heroine because it was hurting his bottom line?
Mal's eyes widened, and his jaw opened.
"I actually remember you now!"
Hypode blinked, then quickly straightened his back and popped up his shirt. "Of course you did. You probably heard of my many achievements—"
"Your mother," Mal said. "I've heard of her."
A flicker of unease went through Hypode's eyes, so fast that if Mal hadn't been looking for it, he wouldn't have noticed it.
"Yes, my mother." Hypode said. "She's a very impressive figure. She's assisted my father in ruling over our domain with great wisdom—"
"Yeah, she got in trouble for sleeping with the butler, didn't she?" Mal paused. "No, butlers. Plural."
Rolam blinked, and his jaw dropped. "What?"
The students in the back, who'd been chatting away with each other and giving commentary, suddenly stopped speaking.
Hypode froze for a split second before he quickly composed himself and let out a laugh. "That's ridiculous. My mother would never do that."
"Yeah, it's been going on for years," Mal said. "To the point where I'm pretty sure it's up in the air whether you're actually your dad's legitimate son. That's why he avoids you, yeah? Every time he sees you, he's reminded of his wife's unfaithfulness. Unfortunately, he can't divorce her, as that would cause a massive scandal. Nor can he delegitimize you, because you're too useful. An A-rank core in his family? He can't give that up."
Hypode had turned pale white. He took a few steps back. "H-how did you know that?"
"Buddy, it's an open secret. If even I, Mr. Backwater Boonies, know about this, I wonder if your friends know too."
"But they would've told me!" Hypode shouted. "They wouldn't talk behind my back about this, they respect me!"
"Sure, but…" Mal shrugged. "Yeah, maybe they just never heard about it."
Hypode continued to take frantic breaths. Behind him, Mal heard a few voices whisper.
"He didn't deny it," a girl with pigtails said.
"I think it might actually be true," a young man said. "That's the only thing that makes any sense."
"I can't believe I've never heard of this—"
"I do vaguely recall something about his mother being caught in the act by a scullery maid."
"But that was confirmed to be false, right?"
"Apparently not."
The giant boy standing next to Hypode shook his head quickly. "Don't believe this random person! What's wrong with all of you?!"
Hypode looked back and forth between the various whispers. His eyes locked back onto Mal, and his face twisted with fury, his teeth grinding against each other.
"You," the word came out like a spider's venom. "How dare you!"
Mal tilted his head and widened his eyes, putting on his best innocent look.
"Me? What did I do?"
"You did that on purpose! You ruined my reputation!"
Of course, Hypode was 100 percent correct. This was exactly the outcome that Mal had been hoping for. Mal wouldn't admit that, though.
"I think this is kind of your own fault," Mal said. "Nobody would've believe me if you hadn't obviously confirmed it. Too bad about your dad, though. Hope you two can reconcile someday."
Hypode's eyes lit up, and the stink of mana permeated the air. He reared his palm back, and the wind seemed to curve in a spear around his hand.
Force punch? That's actually a little bit advanced. Wrapping your hand in mana in order to accelerate the force, velocity, and mass of the attack. Impressive for a first year.
Hypode ran forward and swung his fist out as hard as he could. "Take this, you damned F-rank!"
Mal had a few options. Against a physical attack—even a magically enhanced one—a normal ranged spell would win every time. But Mal's core was horrendous and Hypode would easily overpower him.
A shield spell would be useless here, as physical attacks bypassed magical barriers.
Well, sometimes the obvious solution is the best.
Mal stepped back and dodged the strike.
Hypode's fist sailed forward and struck air. He nearly tripped before he caught himself.
"Stand still, damn you!" he shouted.
"Why would I do that?"
Hypode growled and held out his palm. An Arcane Sphere—a ranged spell—formed in front of him.
Mal summoned a shield spell. The timing would be tricky, but if he activated it at just the right time, then something quite amusing would occur.
Hypode shouted and the spell launched forward. Mal's shield sprang up and the two spells collided in a show of light and sound.
And then the sphere burst apart.
Energy bounced off the shield and it had only one place to go: backward.
And right into Hypode's face.
Hypode let out a pained scream and fell backward, his body dropping to the cobblestone path like a rock.
A loud crack echoed out, and the surrounding area turned completely silent.
A roar.
Mal jolted. A split second later, he felt a fist impact his cheek.
The world lit up in stars. His head went light and his body lifted off the ground for a few moments before he hit the dirt.
A moment later, pain washed over him. Blood trickled from inside his mouth from where his mouth had hit his teeth.
"Ow," he said.
He glanced over at Lusia through blurry eyes. Her hands twitched, then she stepped to the side.
Ah, Mal thought. I see what's happening. She was ordered by father to stay out of schoolyard conflicts—it wouldn't do to have a noble's blood spilled by her.
But that meant he was on his own.
The giant boy stepped closer and—
"FOR HONOR!"
A blur of footsteps as a figure dashed by Mal. The giant boy's eyes shot open. A split-second later, the figure leapt into the air and a kick launched into the boy's jaw. His neck snapped back a full 90 degrees with a crack even louder than when Hypode had hit the ground.
The boy stood there like a tree.
The figure dropped to the ground, turned around, and extended a hand to Mal. He tilted his head, then took the figure's hand.
Mal blinked away the stars and finally saw who'd helped him.
"Rolam?" he asked.
"I'd been looking for an good excuse!" Rolam winked at Mal. "My newfound honored friend!"
***
A few minutes passed. Mal continued to stand and stretched, giving off a yawn.
When will the nurse come?
Footsteps.
"Who's that?" someone looked back.
"Is she a fourth-year?"
Mal poked his head over the top of the crowd of students to get a better look at her.
"No, that's one of the professors," a young man said. "I've heard of her. The potions and herbalism teacher."
Mal searched his memories.
Cassandra, that was her name, wasn't it?
A woman with short hair, wearing a tank top with a jacket, appeared from behind the group of students. A long pipe hung from her mouth, a thin trail of smoke wafting into the air from the opening.
"Let me see the latest idiot," she said.
After several seconds of the students looking at her in confusion, she raised her voice. "That's code for get out of the way!"
At that, all the people surrounding them quickly opened a path for Cassandra to pass through. When she came to Mal and the body of Hypode, she glared at Mal and pulled the pipe from her lips.
"Was it you?" she said.
A lesser man might have flinched. Instead, Mal shook his head.
"He tried to charge at me and attack me with a spell. I used a shield spell and it refracted his attack."
"A perfect shield?" She frowned. "It would've triggered a runic backlash on his core, then. If that's never happened to him before…"
"Yes ma'am. I got lucky."
Cassandra looked doubtful.
"And what about the other one?" she asked.
The guy with the broken jaw made a strangled noise.
At that, Rolam grinned and put his hands on his hips. "It was I, the honorable Rolam! This cur attempted to sneak upon my honorable friend, here, and I acted appropriately.
"Uh-huh."
Cassandra's eyes wandered over to Lusia.
Lusia looked back at her, and the two engaged in a staring contest for the next thirty seconds.
Mal waited to see what would happen, but nothing did. The two just continued to stare at each other.
The woman with the pipe cocked an eyebrow. "Hey, girlie. Are these two telling the truth?"
Lusia nodded. "They were."
Cassandra grunted and picked Hypode up by the back of his collar. "I'll get him fixed up in time for the examination." She looked around herself and raised her voice. "Now the rest of you, get to the dorms!"
At that, the students scurried away like cornered rats. Before Mal even knew it, everyone had seemingly vanished.
Cassandra turned around and walked off in the direction she came from. She stopped and looked back at Mal.
"Bit of friendly advice," she said. "Try not to get yourself in trouble. It makes my job so much easier."
She turned back around and walked off.
The dude with the broken jaw groaned and ran after her.
***
With that encounter done, Mal walked off toward the dormitory. His footsteps clicked against the stone path, while Lusia followed behind him dutifully.
"That was a good save," Mal said. "Not sure why she believed you like that, but you did a great job."
Lusia's tone remained neutral. "I was merely executing my duty, master."
"You did a great job of it. Although . . ." He paused. She didn't want him to put herself in trouble for his sake. "If the consequences for you would be too grave, you don't have to lie."
"I lied?"
He turned around and stared at her to see that she had widened her eyes by the slimmest of margins.
"Yes? I mean, I was clearly provoking that guy," Mal said.
"No, you were stating facts."
Mal grimaced. Had Lusia always had such a warped perspective? Man, he'd done a terrible job of paying attention to her in his first life if he really hadn't noticed this.
"It was the way I said them. Not just that, but the fact that I said them at all. Most people would consider it pretty rude to go around blabbing about their family drama."
"I see."
Mal nodded slowly. "So you get my point? If it'll get you in trouble, don't be afraid to throw me to the wolves."
"But where will I get the wolves from?"
Mal resisted the urge to groan out loud. She had to be messing with him.
"N—no, it was a metaphor, Lusia."
"A metaphor for what?"
Was he really about to have this conversation with her?
"It basically means that you'll abandon me to my fate, so to speak."
A set of footsteps from up ahead caught Mal's attention. Rolam walked up to the both of them and gave them a cheery smile.
"Heya, thanks for saving my bacon back there."
"Where's the bacon?" Lusia said. "Why do people keep bringing up things that are not relevant to the current situation?"
Rolam turned and blinked at her, his open ears twitching at the same instant. "Um, what are you talking about?"
"Ignore her, don't worry about it." Mal held out his hand. "The name is Malfrasius Patoal, it's a pleasure to meet you."
Rolam reached out and shook Mal's hand. "Rolam Knilum. Likewise."
He looked over at Lusia and took her hand. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, he took her hand, briefcase and all, and gently pressed his lips to her knuckles. He looked up at her. His voice lowered into a thick, husky sound.
"And who is this honorable rose I see before me?" he asked.
Mal blinked. He definitely didn't remember this encounter from his first life. How would Lusia respond? Would she actually enjoy the attention? That would be quite the interesting outcome—his maid and a future hero falling in love.
Throughout the whole event, Lusia's expression hadn't changed the slightest.
She flipped her knuckles around and rubbed them against her dress.
I think she's not interested.
Rolam's face fell, and Mal had to hold back a wince. Lusia's eyes focused in on Rolam, and Rolam gulped, droplets of sweat rolling down his forehead.
She opened her mouth. Rolam shut his eyes. Mal prepared for a tongue-lashing—
"Roses are not native to the local region."
Rolam stopped. He tilted his head. "What?"
"Roses are not native to the local region," she said. "Part of this is due to the peculiarly specific requirements of the rose. If the nutrients in the soil are not calibrated to a very specific level, they die."
"Where did you even learn this from?" Mal asked.
"I am required, as part of my duties, to assist the gardener from time to time," Lusia said. "I once asked him about roses because they were used so commonly in parlance, despite not making any sense. He then proceeded to tell me the above information."
"So why exactly did you bring that up?"
Lusia's eyes shot back over to Rolam.
"Because it is impossible for roses to have survived the trip down here, barring some sort of magic. I am unsure as to what rose you could be referring to."
Mal felt his lips turn up into an awkward smile. This was going to become a running problem, wasn't it?
***
Unfortunately, Mal knew it would be rude to simply walk off and head to his dorm. Instead, Rolam had more or less kidnapped the two by walking extremely slowly and forcing them to listen to his stories.
Mal was willing to play ball, however. It wouldn't hurt to be nice to a future hero.
Rolam had just finished talking about how much of a prick Hypode was when he reached up and scratched his head. There was a change to his expression.
"So what do you think the entrance exam is going to be like?"
There was the slightest quiver of nervousness. Mal tilted his head. "I'm sure it'll be nothing too bad. Why do you ask?"
Rolam glanced back and forth. He let out a sigh and dropped his tone low.
"The truth is that—" he slouched. "Hypode might've had a point. This honorable one has never had a head for magic. I failed out of the exam for the elven academy. At the end of the day, my core is still just a D rank."
He seemed to freeze up at the last part of the sentence. He frantically waved his hands back and forth. "Not that there's anything wrong with having a low-ranking core! Really, it's not about raw magical power, it's about technique and knowledge, and there are plenty of fields of magic that don't rely on the core anyway—"
"Stop talking. Your voice reminds me of a rat," Lusia said.
Rolam winced and almost seemed to stagger back. "You really don't hold back, do you?"
"I've been told that many times, yes."
Before Lusia could burn any more bridges, Mal decided to interject and put a hand on Rolam's shoulder. Rolam looked up at Mal with confusion.
"I actually have some insider information," Mal said. "And the written test doesn't really matter that much. Remember, this was a military academy before it was a magic academy. The practical test is where they'll really be paying attention. If you can show off your stuff there, then you'll be golden."
Rolam's eyes widened, and a sparkle flashed inside. "Really? Then I might just have a chance!"
At that, the shadow of the dormitories touched them. Mal looked over to the side to see that the sun was already setting.
Rolam followed his gaze and sighed. "We've been talking for a while. I guess I should let you go, it would be the honorable thing to do."
Mal held back the urge to raise an eyebrow. It seemed that the half-elf actually could take a hint.
Rolam reached out his hand and took Mal's, then shook it up and down quickly. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mal. If we're lucky, we might even end up in the same circle."
Mal's smile strained. "That would be nice, wouldn't it?"
Rolam nodded and let go of Mal's hand. He walked off toward the dormitory and disappeared from sight as he rounded a corner.
***
Mal and Lusia resumed walking. Inside his mind, Mal turned to the conversation and tried to evaluate what the long-term consequences would be.
Rolam had floated the idea of them being in the same circle. If Mal recalled correctly, all students were assigned to a circle. These circles acted like a sort of "team". Circle members were your roommates, your companions, you dormed together, had lunch together, competed in team events together.
He was slowly gaining a rapport with one of the heroes. That was good… But he definitely didn't want to be bound too closely to them.
An ally? Yes.
Being in the same circle? Absolutely not.
For one thing, just because he was able to put up a good front didn't mean he didn't hold some level of resentment toward the heroes for slaughtering his men one by one, and then himself. He understood why they did it. He probably would've done the same in their shoes. That didn't change the fact that there was too much blood spilled for there to ever be any kind of real reconciliation.
Besides that, it was dangerous, keeping them too close. These heroes seemed to spontaneously develop abilities at random. Not only that, but the Marks they would obtain were just completely broken. Who knew if one of them might spontaneously allow them to detect time travelers? Absolutely not.
"That was very out of character for you, master."
Mal blinked and looked over at Lusia. She was staring at him with an inscrutable expression. Their footsteps clicked against the cobblestone while the light cast by the setting sun seemed to bathe her in a warm orange.
"Which part?" Mal said.
"You intervened in a conflict that was not your own. And then afterward, you spoke with that boy extensively. Normally, you would've ignored the conflict, and you would've told the boy to leave you alone." She paused. "You would use much stronger language than that, but the point still stands."
Before Mal could respond, she continued speaking.
"Not only that, but you've been acting unusually toward me as well. You've said thank you and have requested my opinion on a number of occasions. You've never done that before. Why has this changed?"
Of course she developed social awareness at the most inopportune time available.
But then again, this conversation would happen eventually. He would've had to kick her to the curb or somehow find a way to avoid her, and he didn't see that happening. Firstly, she was far too useful. Her combat abilities and her loyalty would be essential during these early months when he was still recovering his power.
Secondly, he still needed to fix things. He needed to make things right with her—and how could he do that if she was a million miles away?
Mal would need an explanation that would cover his unusual behavior for the foreseeable future.
"What would you say…" He trailed off, the words at the tip of his tongue. "If I told you that I had a dream?"
She tilted her head. "I would tell you that dreams are a common occurrence, and you shouldn't be surprised."
"No, no. It was the content of the dream that was weird." Mal kicked at the ground, and his shoe skidded across the rocks. "I dreamt of the future."
"And what did this future depict?"
"A couple different things. I dreamt of war. Battle. You were there too."
"What happened to me?"
Her body, on the floor. Broken. Blood pooling on the wood like wine spilled from a barrel.
He wasn't ready to go there.
"You were fine. But you did end up leaving me."
At the mention of her leaving, a small frown appeared on her face. It was gone as quickly as it was there. "I see. What does this have to do with your recent changes in behavior?"
"In the end, I became a bad guy. A villain. The whole world rose against me, and I was killed." His mouth went dry, and he reached up toward his stab wound. "It was disturbingly realistic."
"It was just a dream, master."
"Still, it made me reevaluate things," Mal said. "I thought it might be a sign. Maybe the path that I was going down wasn't one that I wanted to remain on. I figured now's as good a time as any to make a change."
Mal gave a small smile and hoped that this would be enough to ward off any further questions.
The seconds stretched on. Lusia was as stoic as ever on the surface, but Mal got the sense that behind her eyes, he could almost see the gears whirling.
Finally, she nodded. "I see. If that is what you wish to do and how you wish to interpret this dream, master, it is not my place to say otherwise."
"I know it's weird. But it's probably for the best, right? Better this than how I used to be."
"… In my experience, master, people rarely change, and they rarely change so suddenly."
At that, she froze and bowed her head. "My apologies, master. It seems that the shock of what you said caused me to say something inappropriate."
Mal waved her off. "It's fine. Totally understandable."
She bowed her head, but there was a distinct look of suspicion that he hadn't seen there before.
Of course she didn't think that this would last. It was a totally reasonable assumption to make. Usually changes like this were preceded by some sort of emotional event: the death of a loved one, a loss of a job, a sudden change in one's status, a great success. People don't just change overnight.
But at the very least, it seemed like she didn't disbelieve that he had a "dream." If she didn't believe that, then the types of questions he'd encounter would be far more difficult to answer.
Her distrusting his sudden change? He could work with that. And he was sure that, in time, he would earn her trust.
"Let's get to the dormitories," Mal said. "We've spent enough time talking."
She nodded. "Yes, master."
They continued walking until they reached a crossroads. Each of the buildings was numbered, and Mal could see that his room was somewhere off to the left, while Lucia's was off to the right.
"I can take my briefcase, and you can take yours," Mal said.
Lusia shook her head. "I will take your things to your room, then I'll head to the servants' dormitories."
Mal didn't see the point in arguing with her, and the two approached Mal's dormitory.
They approached the locked door. The keycard in his pocket buzzed. He pulled it out and hummed, then put it to the lock. A soft click echoed out and the door swung open.
The room was fine—nothing special. A bed, some curtains. The usual amenities.
Lusia stepped forward and placed the briefcase in the center of the room. She stepped back toward the exit and lingered by the door a moment. It seemed that she wanted to say something.
Mal waited, but eventually she shook her head.
"Have a good evening, master. I'll see you in the morning."
Mal felt a faint pang of disappointment. He had been hoping that she'd say whatever she was wanting to say. Still, he suppressed the feeling and smiled.
"And you too, Lusia."
At that moment, the briefcase, which had been standing up, somehow unlatched, and the clothes spilled over the floor.
Lusia stared at the briefcase for several long seconds.
Mal let out a short chuckle. "I'm beginning to think that this briefcase hates you."