Damn Academy - Chapter 136

[Episode 136] The Phantom of the Guardian Tree (15)

On a night when a crescent moon rose, a girl stood at a place known as the forest’s hideout. Not far from the temple, if one walked through a secret passage made of vines, they would come upon a small circular clearing. At its center stood a willow tree.

That place was their secret base.

The girl, worried that her hair might reflect the moonlight, pressed her robe deeply and paced anxiously around the willow tree.

It was nearing midnight.

Could she have been caught sneaking out of her chamber? Had something happened to her? The girl was fraught with worry.

Soon, there was a rustling noise from someone approaching the hideout.

Startled, the girl quickly turned towards the source of the sound.

A male figure emerged from the darkness.

“Lucille.”

He called out a code name, a name of a herb, and the girl responded with the correct answer.

“Pony!”

Once the code was confirmed, a boy stepped out from the shadows.

And the girl, lowering her deep hood, revealed her face, with silver hair cascading down to her waist.

The boy asked,

“Did you wait long?”

She nodded.

“I was incredibly worried when you didn’t come. Something could have happened.”

“Thought there’d be no one around the fountain, but suddenly Sister Dolores decided to take a midnight stroll. Had to wait until she was gone.”

The boy had been concealing something behind his back.

“What’s that behind you?”

He grinned, then brought a box from behind and lifted its square lid to reveal a pristine white cake on a square board.

“…What’s this?”

“It’s a cake, what else?”

“How did you… get this?”

A cake was a luxury, requiring expensive ingredients. For a boy who sustained himself on oatmeal, even a single slice was an unattainable dream.

“I worked all day. Didn’t I tell you? I’ve been busy.”

Where could he have possibly worked? Few places would employ a boy still small and lacking in strength.
T h i s w a s c op i e d f r o m k i n g m t l . o r g

“…”
T h i s was co p ie d fr o m kin g m tl. o r g

“Hold this for a second.”

He had the girl hold the cake and then took out a candle from his pocket, planted it in the center of the cake, and struck a flint. The girl watched, amused, then lit the candle with magic without any fuss.

With the final preparation complete without any extra manipulation, he awkwardly put away the flint and said,

“Magic sure is convenient. Now let me hold it.”

The boy took back the cake.

With the candle lit, their faces, once concealed by darkness, were visible to each other again.

“Now…”

Before he could finish, the girl interrupted him, concerned about his appearance.

“Wait… what happened to your face?”

The boy’s forehead was bruised, and one cheek was swollen.

Avoiding her gaze, he replied,

“Fell and hit a wall while working. It’s nothing.”

T hi s w a s copi ed f ro m ki ngm tl. o r g
The girl, with worried eyes, reached out to his cheek.

“…This is not nothing. Who did this? Who?”

“It’s okay, really. I just fell.”

“You… have no talent for lying. We promised not to lie to each other.”

With her insistent questioning, the boy fell silent for a while, then reluctantly began to speak.

“I slipped while moving sacks of grain. The overseer must’ve been annoyed by that.”

It was clear—his mistake had been used as an excuse to punch him in the face. This was the treatment orphans often endured. With no parents, no strength, and no one to protect them, others felt entitled to treat them however they pleased.

Tears began to form in the girl’s eyes.

“I’ll… I’ll… kill them all…”

He smiled and calmed her down.

“Why kill over that? He’s got a wife and kids. I’m fine, really. To me, it’s truly nothing.”

It was the boy who should be comforted, yet he showed no sign of pain. Calmly, he wiped her teary eyes and said,

“I wish only for joyful and happy memories on a day as precious as this. It comes just once a year.”

The only person who ever remembered her birthday was him.

He held the cake up to her face with the candle lit.

“Go on, blow it out. Before the wind beats you to it.”

The girl wiped her eyes with her sleeve, nodded, and carefully blew out the candle.

The sole source of light vanished, and the boy’s figure plunged back into the shadows.

Then, in the void of nothingness, the boy’s final whisper echoed softly.

“Happy Birthday, Liza.”

And with that, Liza awoke.

It was dawn, with a full moon still high and moonlight pouring through.

She sat up to check the calendar. It was the day, marked heavily in ink.
T h i s w a s c o p i e d fro m k i n g m t l.o r g

Liza’s head slowly dropped. She idly killed time like that.

Sleep was impossible now. Her body shivered. Liza had to exert all her strength to calm herself.

Her fist clenched tightly, she thumped her chest. The slow rhythm of thumps filled the silence.

There was nothing else to do.

***

Liza was roused by a knock at the door. Having fallen asleep at Weisel Hall, it could only be Trisha knocking.

Once more, the knock sounded, and the door creaked open.

Trisha peeked her head in and murmured softly,

“Still sleeping?”

I shielded my eyes in irritation. The restless dreams had kept me from sleeping deeply.

I’ve been having the same dream repeatedly, but none of it is clear.

Could it be a premonition? Does it mean something? Maybe it’s a foreshadowing of death.

It feels like an elder on their deathbed, muttering with breathy whispers, incomprehensible.
T h i s w as c o p i ed fr o m k i n g m t l . or g

“Damian…?”

“Why?”

“Are you in pain?”

“No, but why are you here?”

“That’s… no, forget it. Go back to sleep!”

T hi s w a s c o p i e d f r o m k i n g mt l . o r g
I ruffled my tousled hair.

“Tell me.”
Th i s w a s c o p i e d f r om k i n g m t l.o rg

“That… I’ve prepared all the ingredients.”
T hi s w a s c o p ied f r o m k i n g mt l . o r g

“…Ingredients?”

I sat up and summoned a spirit to light the oil lamp.

“Yeah. Just need you to do the rest!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Cooking…!”

My vision still blurry, I glanced outside. It was still dim, but morning light was breaking.

Trisha had no talent for cooking. So the arrangement was that I’d make our meals. I had even memorized the cookbook for a while because of it.

Though it was a hassle, I couldn’t just let Trisha go hungry.

I climbed out of bed and, like a habit, checked the calendar on the nightstand. Then my mind froze for a moment at the date.

Trisha looked at me, somewhat puzzled.

“Are you in pain?”

“No.”

I folded the calendar and stashed it in the drawer.

“Why are you like that? Feeling bad?”

Trisha seemed a bit taken aback by my behavior. She must have thought she had irritated me.

“No. Just haven’t been sleeping well because of the dreams.”

I quickly stretched and got up.
Thi s w a s co pie d f ro m k i n g m tl . o rg

“Anything you want to eat?”

“Anything!”

I sighed lightly and headed to the kitchen. I had to prepare breakfast for myself anyway.

Trisha followed me and sat at the kitchen table.

Baskets filled with ingredients were neatly arranged in the kitchen, clearly prepared with dedication in the early morning.

I started the fire and quickly began preparing the ingredients.

Then, with her hands propping her chin, she watched me with a contented expression as I busily prepared the meal.

“You go do something.”

“No, I want to stay here!”

“If you have nothing to do, can you wash these?”

I pointed to a basket of potatoes. I expected her to whine, but she accepted the task with enthusiasm.

“Okay!”

And off she went with the basket, running outside.

A strange sense of camaraderie washed over me. Preparing a meal together felt like we were truly family.

Living together might come with its squabbles and adjustments, but for the stability moments like this brought, it was well worth it.

Shortly after, Trisha returned with the potatoes, making a racket.

“Done!”

The basket dripped with water, and her hands were red as if washed in ice-cold water.

Seeing that brought a smile to my face.

Th i s w a s co p ied fr om k in g mt l . o r g
“That’s enough. Rest and play with the spirit.”

I then sent a fire spirit to warm her hands.

For all I knew, there was a certain fun to be had in carrying out everyday life with Trisha.

I could picture what sort of daily life she yearned for in this isolated hall.

Living in Silveryn’s mansion, Witthrush Hall, had its convenience.

Meals prepared by others. Bookshelves tidied by others. Laundry folded by others. All these noble conveniences still felt as uncomfortable as clothes that didn’t fit right.

Perhaps the way we were doing things now, actively managing a day-to-day life together, was more up my alley.

After all, I had always lived like this.

***

Finishing our meal, Trisha and I stepped out of the dorm amicably.

No sooner had we escaped the hall’s labyrinth than Stitch flew in again.

I quickly snatched it from the air before Trisha could see it.

She always got so curious at times like this, and it sent chills down my spine.

“What’s that?”

“A letter.”

“Let me see.”

“You show me all your letters first.”

She pondered for a moment before replying.

“…That’s not possible!”

“Then neither is this.”

She always had such an interest in my privacy. Why? Every time a letter arrives, she insists on seeing it.

I’ll have to keep Silveryn’s letters well hidden.

For the time being, with prying eyes about, I tucked the letter into my back pocket.

Continuing on, Trisha and I parted ways at the student garden in Northern Village.

“Come pick me up for dinner!”

She waved and shouted as she walked away.

The sky was still tinged with dark blue hues, not yet fully bright with sunrise. There was plenty of time before my first class, but no place came to mind to spend it.

Almost no other students were in sight.

It was peaceful, an ordinary day like any other.

Nothing more to ask for. Just hoping it would pass without any incident.

I sat on the garden bench without any particular plan and took out Silveryn’s letter to read.