As the other students dispersed into the night, our team lingered a little longer. The air had grown colder, shadows stretching long across the empty path. Eugene stepped forward, his expression calm but determined.
"Since it's already late, I want to discuss how we'll work together for tomorrow's exam," he said.
No one interrupted. We all listened quietly. The trust these people placed in him was remarkable—almost absolute. He must've done something in the past to earn this level of faith.
"The booklet contains too much information to memorize in a single night," Eugene continued. "So we'll divide the work. Each of us will study a different section, then share our knowledge during the exam."
"Sounds good," Lily said with a nod.
Eugene turned to Livia. "How about you?"
"Mm." She gave a soft nod in agreement.
His gaze finally shifted toward me. I responded with a slight nod of my own. I couldn't help but notice, though—he hadn't asked Elizabeth for her opinion. Perhaps that was proof of how close the two of them already were.
"Let's see…" Eugene muttered, flipping through the booklet's contents. After a brief pause, he spoke again. "Alright. Chàros, you'll memorize the floor paths. Elizabeth, take the first five floors' monsters and their weaknesses. Lily, cover floors six to ten. I'll handle floors eleven to seventeen. And Livia…" His eyes softened as he looked at her. "You'll take the rest. Since you're the best at memorization, it suits you."
He looked around. "Any objections?"
"No objection," Elizabeth said plainly.
"Same here," Lily agreed.
Livia nodded. I followed suit.
"Good. Then that's settled." Eugene closed the booklet and turned. "That's all for today. I'll be counting on you all tomorrow. Goodnight." He raised a hand in a casual wave before walking off with Elizabeth by his side.
The two of them, leaving together. Were they… more than just teammates? Maybe it was rude of me to assume, but their closeness was obvious. And yet, this morning they hadn't even arrived together despite coming from the same direction. Curious.
"I guess I'll be going too." Lily bowed her head politely before disappearing down a different road.
That left only me and Livia, standing alone under the pale moonlight. She lingered awkwardly, her eyes darting toward the shadows.
"…Are you not leaving?" I asked.
"Huh?" She flinched at my sudden voice. "Ah… uh…"
The way she fumbled with her words, combined with her nervous posture, made it obvious. She wanted something—no, needed something—but couldn't bring herself to ask. I figured it out.
"Do you want me to walk you home?" I asked gently.
Her lips pressed together. Then, after a pause, she nodded.
I thought so.
"Which way did you come from? Lead the way—I'll follow."
Another small nod, and she set off toward the opposite direction of where Eugene and Elizabeth had gone. Coincidentally, it was also the way back to the inn I was staying at. I wondered how long our paths would overlap before diverging again.
The road grew narrower, swallowed by a valley where only the moonlight kept the darkness at bay. A faint, eerie chill clung to the air, making the silence feel heavier.
Why is it so dark here? I wondered.
"…."
I felt a tug. Livia was clinging to my sleeve, like a child hiding behind a parent. Given the oppressive darkness, it was understandable. Her grip tightened suddenly as a noise cracked through the silence.
Thud!
"Ah!" She jumped, clutching my shoulder.
It was only a stack of wooden boxes, collapsing under their own weight.
"Sorry!" she gasped, quickly pulling away.
"Don't worry about it," I answered calmly.
Silence reclaimed the road. The sound of our footsteps echoed faintly. Then, after what felt like forever, Livia finally spoke.
"Do you…" Her words trailed off.
I tilted my head, signaling for her to continue.
"Do you really think… what Eugene said about the assassination… was just a rumor?"
Her voice was quiet, almost swallowed by the night. I realized then—she wasn't shy, nor unable to speak. She was simply soft-spoken, her words hidden in hesitation.
"So you can talk," I murmured, half to myself. Then I asked, "Why do you want to know?"
She faltered, glancing away. "I… I'm just a little worried," she admitted, her voice fading into her collar as though trying to hide inside it.
"I see…" I said softly, noticing the unease lingering in her eyes. Since the walk ahead was long, I decided to ease her worries with the full truth. "The assassination plot is real. But that doesn't mean it's something we need to fear."
Her head turned toward me, curiosity flickering in her gaze. "How so?"
"Think back to our instructors," I began.
She gave a small nod.
"They're undeniably powerful—enough to be considered valuable assets to the kingdom. And yet, despite the current circumstances, the king was willing to send them away on this exam rather than keep them by his side. Doesn't that strike you as odd?"
She blinked, trying to piece it together.
"It means," I continued, "that there are people even more capable and trustworthy under the king's direct command. He wouldn't risk his daughter's safety otherwise. Whatever dangers lurk, I can assure you, the princess is far more protected than we can imagine." I shrugged lightly. "For us commoners, this sort of security might seem impossible. But for a king, safeguarding his bloodline is as natural as a morning stroll."
"…And the secret organization?" she asked.
"From what I can tell, they're likely composed of commoners themselves. That would explain why they're so desperate for an audience with the king. Their goal probably isn't to destroy him outright but to demand ransom, influence, or privileges tied to their place in society."
"I see…" Her voice was quiet, contemplative. "But… why go so far?"
Her question carried an innocent weight, and I couldn't help but notice.
"I understand your confusion. But let me put it this way: no matter how perfect something looks on the surface, there's always a flaw hidden beneath. That flaw usually comes from the shadows—the people who work behind your back. In this kingdom's case, the king might very well be a good man. But he isn't God. He can't see everything. And so, corruption festers. Crimes are committed. Injustice seeps through. And more often than not…" I paused, my tone softening, "it's the innocent who suffer the most."
Her brows furrowed. "But even so, that doesn't mean they have to resort to this kind of path."
"That," I said firmly, "is precisely why it happens. No matter how kind or righteous you are, there will always be someone who hates you. Always someone who believes you're their enemy. The secret organization is just one of those groups."
Her steps slowed slightly as she absorbed my words. I, too, felt the weight of what I had said.
Now that I think about it… is it even safe to speak of such things in the open? These roads are quiet, but shadows have ears. If that organization truly exists, I can only hope their hatred never turns toward us—mere commoners caught in the crossfire.
As things went silent, something briefly reflected the moonlight, flashing against my eyes for a split second.
My body moved before thought—my hand shot out and caught it.
"...Is something wrong?" Livia asked, her voice soft, cautious.
I lowered my gaze. A small, custom-made kunai rested in my palm. I gave the surroundings a slow sweep with my eyes, searching for the one who threw it, but the night air carried nothing—no presence, no shadow, no killing intent. Just silence.
Slipping the kunai into my pocket, I shook my head.
"Nothing."
Her timid eyes lingered on me, as if doubting my answer. "...Is that so?"
I gave a single nod, calm as always.
No traces. No footsteps. No pursuers. Whoever it was, they didn't want to be seen.
Before long, the streets began to shift—the houses closer to the inn had their lamps and candles lit, unlike the empty, darker streets we had passed earlier. The warmth of light made the silence feel less heavy.
We continued walking in silence until Livia suddenly stopped.
"Stop."
I turned to her. "Is something wrong?"
She shook her head lightly, her cheeks faintly red. "N-no… we're already here."
I glanced at the building she indicated. Coincidentally, it was the inn I was staying at. Her room, however, was in the building across from it.
"I see," I murmured. "Looks like we're neighbors."
She gave the smallest of nods, lowering her gaze shyly. "Mm… G-goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow!"
"Goodnight," I replied calmly. My voice was steady, yet as I watched her hurry inside, a faint sigh escaped my lips.
"…I guess."
After waiting until her door closed, I crossed the street and entered the inn.
The lively chatter of drunks and the clatter of mugs was what I expected, but instead—
"Chàros!"
Madam Bella Augsten, the inn's master, rushed toward me. Her face was pale with worry.
"You're finally back! Is Lumi with you?"
"No," I replied evenly. "Is she not home yet?"
Her hands trembled as she gripped her apron. "Yes, it's already dark… I thought she was with you since you weren't back either. But I was wrong. Oh no… what if something happened to her? What if she's been taken, or kidnapped? This is all because I—"
"Calm down." My voice cut through her panic like still water breaking ripples.
She froze, lips quivering. "…How can I be calm? My daughter hasn't come home, it's already dark outside, and there's no word from her—"
"...*
The word alone, steady and unshaken, carried weight. I raised my hand slightly and pressed my index finger gently to her lips. Silence.
Her breath slowed, confusion flickering in her eyes.
"Better," I said quietly. "Now… ready to talk about what to do?"
After a pause, she nodded.
"Good. Before we begin searching, I want you to—"
Knock. Knock.
Both our heads turned. The sound was sharp against the tense quiet. I motioned for Bella to stay silent. It could easily be a break-in.
"Who is it?" I asked, standing behind the door, every muscle ready.
A small pause. Then a faint boy's voice.
"My name's Noah… I'm Lumi's classmate. I'm tired… please, open the door."
Skepticism held me still for a moment. But something in his tone wasn't fabricated—it was weary, fragile.
I opened the door cautiously.
A boy no taller than Lumi stood there, his shoulders sagging. On his back—Lumi herself, unconscious, her pale face resting against him.
"Lumi!" Bella cried, rushing forward. She nearly ripped the girl from his back, clutching her tightly in her arms. "What happened? My baby—please, talk to me!"
I stepped closer and checked Lumi's pulse. Her breathing was even, her heartbeat steady. Relief loosened my chest.
"She's fine. Just asleep." I met Bella's desperate eyes and nodded. "Take her upstairs."
She wasted no time, carrying the girl into her room.
That left me with the boy.
"What happened?" I asked calmly.
He shifted nervously, eyes darting away. "She… she fell sick. I think she took the wrong medicine. When I found her, she was already unconscious in the infirmary."
"Infirmary, hm? But this late?" My voice was measured, curious, not accusatory. "It's hours past school dismissal."
His shoulders stiffened. His gaze dropped to the floor, unease pressing on him despite my lack of hostility.
"I… I was working," he muttered. "Cleaning the academy toilets. That's how I pay tuition. I finished late and felt dizzy, so I went to the infirmary for medicine. That's when I saw her—still there, with sleeping pills near her bed. She wouldn't wake up, so… I carried her here."
He was no older than thirteen, yet he bore himself with the exhaustion of someone twice his age. A child without complaint, forced to live as an adult.
"I see." My tone stayed even. "So you work late nights and—"
"No! I didn't do anything weird to her!" he blurted suddenly, his face red.
"…That wasn't my implication." I gave the faintest sigh, shaking my head. "Forget it. Where do you live?"
"It's okay, I'm fine. I can walk alone," he muttered, almost defensive.
"I can't allow that." My reply was firm but not harsh. "I'd be a fool to let a child wander alone at night—especially one who just went out of his way to help someone I know. At the very least, let me return the favor."
His lips pressed together, hesitation warring with pride. Finally, he gave a reluctant nod. "…O-okay."
"Good." I let my gaze soften, though my expression remained calm. "There's something I'd like to ask you as well. Is that fine with you?"
"Mm." He nodded once, faint but clear.
"Wait here a moment," I told him, heading into the kitchen. After rummaging through the shelves, I found an empty bottle, filled it with clean water, and brought it back.
The boy was drenched in sweat, his breathing uneven. Carrying someone from the academy all the way here—especially at his age—was no small feat. Offering him some water was the least I could do.
He accepted it with a quiet nod of thanks.
I made my way upstairs and gently pushed open the door to Livia's room. Bella was still by her daughter's side.
"Stay here with Livia," I said, keeping my tone firm but calm. "Don't open the door for anyone. Not even me. I'll take Noah back."
Bella blinked at me. "What do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what you heard," I replied. "And don't forget to lock the door."
Without waiting for further protest, I turned and walked away.
Back downstairs, Noah was waiting where I left him, fidgeting nervously.
"Let's go," I said.
"…Mm." He gave a small nod, clutching the empty bottle as if it were a lifeline.