Chapter 97: Trap (1)
There was an old story passed down in the Empire.
It was a fable called The Frog and the Squirrel.
The story went like this.
On a rainy day, animals passing by would see a frog weeping sorrowfully and would wonder aloud, “Why does that frog cry its heart out whenever it rains?”
Each offered cautious but plausible guesses, when suddenly a squirrel appeared and slipped into the conversation.
The squirrel, who had long found the frog’s constant crying on rainy days unbearable, did not say much to the animals.
It merely spread a baseless rumor—that the frog cried like that to cover up some wrongdoing of its own.
From then on, the animals’ conversations grew more heated. Before long, their words strayed into groundless, exaggerated, and sensational claims.
Soon, the frog became, in their eyes, a villain of legendary proportions: one who had failed to even hold a proper funeral after its parents’ deaths, who had betrayed a close friend and brought about his death, who had cast aside a lover for paltry gain, and who had in the end abandoned even its own kin.
All the frog had ever done was cry when it rained.
…The explanation had gone on needlessly long.
To put it simply, the fable was meant to teach children that rumors grow bigger with time. Thus, one must be careful whenever opening their mouth.
That was the lesson.
And I could bet without hesitation that most students at the Academy had let this story in one ear and out the other.
“Allen Amiel, he’s the one…”
“Oh, the bastard-born child with no place in the family records…”
“They say he’s the culprit behind this incident…”
“But are you sure? What if he’s actually innocent…”
“Innocent? They dragged him out of class in front of everyone. No way, they must have had solid evidence…”
No matter where I went, it was Allen, Allen, nothing but talk of Allen.
How on earth could a rumor spread this far in just a few hours?
Was it because a student being arrested in the middle of class was unprecedented?
Or was it because the incident was already drawing the full attention of the students?
Or perhaps because it had happened in a place where most of the student body was gathered?
No, it might have been all three.
What was certain was that the rumor—that Allen was the culprit of the serial incidents—had spread uncontrollably throughout the Academy.
‘They’re all having the time of their lives.’
Clicking my tongue softly, I watched a few students zealously spreading the tale.
There are always those types who, though usually quiet, become strangely fervent whenever an incident like this occurred.
And the thing they all had in common was that they twisted the story and exaggerated it as they passed it along.
“I’m telling you, even in class before this, he suddenly changed like he was a different person. His skills spiked out of nowhere too. He must have been up to something shady…”
“If the Assistants hadn’t intervened in time, there’d have been a pile of corpses already. The way he lunged at people, aiming only for throats, hearts, eyes—vital points—it was downright savage…”
“I took the same class with him, and I talked to him a few times. His eyes were always weird, I swear. And he’d mutter these strange interjections for no reason… You know how Cultists of the Evil God whisper prayers in words only they understand…”
Whether I wanted to or not, just walking a few steps meant I couldn’t avoid overhearing.
And whenever the whispers grew a bit louder, there were always those who distorted the story and passed it on just like that.
‘…Sure, plenty of them didn’t like Allen to begin with.’
But the speed at which the rumors spread, and the sheer number of people spreading them, exceeded my expectations.
Honestly, I felt the urge to do what I had done to that senior who had picked a fight with Lancia in the cafeteria—confront one of these people face-to-face and have a word or two.
But I forced myself to change my mind.
‘If I jump in now, it’ll only be like pouring oil onto the fire.’
I couldn’t make the situation messier just to vent my own frustrations.
Especially if the aftermath ended up directed at Allen, and not me.
“……”
Not long ago, I had witnessed Professor Deiare, usually so composed, in rare fury at the Watchmen who had taken Allen away without prior notice, without even requesting cooperation, almost as though it had been a mere notification.
Her anger had been so great that she protested them passionately, without even caring who was watching.
Not only that, but the moment class had ended, she had run off somewhere in a rush. At the very least, Allen wouldn’t suffer injustice during the investigation.
‘More importantly…’
The incidents had happened only two, maybe three days ago.
Until now, I was the only one who had any evidence at all.
For them to suddenly claim Allen was the culprit, and that they had definitive evidence to prove it—that was unreasonable on many counts.
Most likely, they were just randomly picking out anyone with the slightest connection for questioning.
I had seen similar cases in my past life, so Allen being investigated wasn’t strange in itself.
Soon enough, his innocence would be proven.
Without a doubt.
“…Think positively.”
Murmuring aloud as if to console myself, I whispered the words deliberately.
Still, it seemed unavoidable that Allen would end up shunned by other students, smeared as the villain in every malicious rumor.
However, at the very least, the worst outcome of Allen being branded the culprit and sent to Prison Island had been avoided.
‘On top of that, his half-brother Kyren and Professor Runberg are fine, and no one died.’
Compared to my past life, the flow of events was looking almost enviably better.
For now, it was wiser to observe the situation calmly rather than move recklessly.
Especially since the investigation results on Allen had not even come out yet.
“Phew.”
Still, just sitting still felt meaningless, so I headed toward Professor Windy May’s private training hall.
At first it had been unfamiliar, but now, being the place I visited most often after my dormitory room, it felt more than comfortable.
‘At times like this, it’s best to calmly focus on what I can actually do.’
I might have brushed off the assault incident too lightly, but in truth, it was not something to take lightly at all.
If my strength had been lacking, or if the opponent had been stronger, I might have ended up in critical condition like the other victims.
Or perhaps even lost my life, as I had in my past life.
“Well then, let’s see…”
Standing in the empty hall, I steadied my breathing with a few deep inhalations.
It was a ritual I always performed before training.
‘What should I start with…’
First, physical techniques.
I trained in them every day without fail, and there was nothing particularly urgent to improve at the moment.
After all, physical techniques were about consistency and diligence rather than rushing.
Magic.
And Sky Guide.
These two were impossible to train on my own.
They required Professor Windy May’s instruction, but she was currently absent—either on personal business or Academy affairs.
So, naturally, I set those aside as well.
As for divine power, Sister Roberta’s class was effective enough; I didn’t need to do much extra.
Though I had struggled at first to control and wield it…
By now, I had grasped enough of the knack and feeling to use it proficiently, as I had in my past life.
What I needed most with divine power was not advanced techniques, but a solid foundation.
‘…Which means there’s only one thing left.’
The Brand.
I unconsciously touched my collarbone.
The Brand of Harvest, was that what it was called?
I still didn’t know exactly what power this mark engraved upon me held.
But considering how it had manifested alongside Rahma’s power, there was no doubt they were closely connected.
‘Not once, but twice.’
The first time might have been chance, but the second time, the ability had activated in a truly life-threatening moment.
Frankly, without this ability, I would have been unconscious in the infirmary or suffering a comparable injury.
In a way, I was alive thanks to this Brand.
‘If only.’
If only I could use it at will, like Rahma had.
“It could be my hidden trump card…”
But the real problem was that I had no idea how to wield it.
I had tried many methods to uncover its usage, but none bore real fruit.
The closest I got was vague hints—like the fortune-telling demon wearing a fox mask, or Talia Poas in the Room of Memories saying cryptic things.
Nothing but frustration.
In such a situation, the one I pinned my hopes on was none other than Cecilia.
‘If Cecilia could master her power sooner, it would be an incredible relief…’
Most of all, back in the Dungeon Field Class—the day we had nearly been killed by high-ranking spirits.
Back then, they had clearly reacted as if they recognized this Brand.
Considering how even those unfathomable spirits had made such a fuss about it, they surely knew something.
If Cecilia succeeded in controlling the high spirits, then I would ask her about the Brand.
That had been my plan all this time, but…
Whenever I asked in passing, she only responded with difficulty, saying it still felt too hard for her.
Even today, she had gone so far as to apologize, saying she was sorry for not meeting my expectations.
It had shocked me more than a little.
‘Maybe I pushed too much.’
The Cecilia of my past life, and the Cecilia I knew now, were not the same person.
I knew that, I reminded myself of that, and I tried to be careful… yet my attitude must have slipped through without me realizing.
Enough for her to notice.
The way she hesitated, lips sealed for a moment before apologizing…
“Phew.”
I would have to apologize properly later.
Feeling stifled, I ruffled my hair roughly with both hands.
Though she had told me again and again not to worry, it seemed Allen’s situation had made me more on edge than usual.
‘…Should I head back?’
I couldn’t focus with my mind so unsettled.
Best to just return to the dorm early and rest.
Thinking so, I left the training hall.
As I walked absentmindedly along a quieter street than usual, on my way back to the dorm—
Tok.
A pebble landed close at my feet.
“Hm?”
I turned my head, but no one was around.
“…Must have been the wind.”
Feigning nonchalance, I quietly began gathering divine power.
There was no law that said something that happened once couldn’t happen again.
That was when it happened.
The air shimmered faintly, and then someone appeared before me.
“Lord Lian Gwendil…!”
Her face and body looked battered beyond recognition.
Blood seeped through tightly wrapped bandages, and clutching what looked like a cloak Artifact—
It was none other than Lyslin.
“…Miss Lyslin?”
“Please help me!”
Her voice was urgent, desperate.
“Please, please help me…! If this continues, Lord Amiel and the others, they’ll all…!”
They’ll all die!
Tears streaming down her face, she pleaded with me, crying out in anguish.