Damn Academy - Chapter 95

[Episode 95] The Shadow (18)

I put Trisha’s group proposal on hold for a while. I understood the discomfort with the current group members, but from the perspective of Cecil and her friends, I was a complete outsider. It didn’t seem like a good idea to replace someone already in sync with the group with myself. I might consider joining if a vacancy naturally occurred, but it was out of the question to displace someone just to make room for me.

Upon arrival at the mansion, Liria rushed out from the entrance hall to greet me.

“Master Damian!”

Urgency laced her voice, a small paper envelope fluttering in her hand.

Her first shout, in place of a greeting, sent my heart plummeting.

“A letter from Miss Silveryn has arrived!”

It seems the response to the letter I had sent before had finally arrived. It was time at last.

I took the letter from her and paused for a moment to catch my breath.

Liria, with eyes wide, watched me for my reaction before discreetly exiting.

“I’ll go prepare your bath water!”

Trisha hesitantly moved towards the corridor leading to my room, then stopped and turned back to me, a puzzled look in her eyes.

Why does the mere act of opening a letter make me so nervous? The gap since last correspondence felt unnervingly unfamiliar. I broke the seal and read the first line of the letter.
Th is w a s c o pi ed fr o m k i n gmtl . o r g

Fortunately, it contained Silveryn’s warm regards.

[I was quite worried not having received your letters. I’m relieved to hear you’re well.]

Th i s w a s co pie d fr o m k i n g m t l . o r g
[How regrettable that Stitch was destroyed in an accident, and that you had no one to share your entrance ceremony. I share your sentiments.]

[In the north, where warfare is frequent, many children grow up without their fathers. That’s why northern parents consider it a blessing to watch their children grow. I somewhat understand the sentiment of those from the north.]

[Regrettably, it’s likely we won’t be able to share the upcoming important events and celebrations together. There are still too many in this world in need of a teacher’s strength. But don’t be too disappointed. Here’s one promise I can make: no matter what—even if the world should end—I will be there for your coming-of-age ceremony. That much I can assure you.]

Silveryn’s writing was calm, just as usual. I hadn’t been able to keep my daily promise to write, so a part of me worried she might be upset. Of course, Silveryn wasn’t the type to be angry over delayed letters.

However… for some reason, the word ‘coming-of-age ceremony’ and a few other sentences were written with such pressure that the ink was heavier. Perhaps she wrote them in a swaying carriage? Aside from that, the overall tone of the letter was serene.

[Joining the art club was a good choice. Professor Georgia may be demanding, but she genuinely cares for her students. And for your first project, painting someone dear to you in secret? You say I’d like it – I truly wonder who it could be. Regardless, I look forward to seeing it.]
T h i s w a s c o p ie d f r o m k i n gm t l. o rg

[If Stitch is beyond repair, seek out the magi-engineer Phyto in Rigved’s central district; he should be able to fix it. And send your letters via Ella while Stitch is being repaired.]

I wonder if repairing Stitch, which lays in fragments, is even possible… I must visit him sooner rather than later.

And in the last line, where the signature should have been… there was a red lip print stamped instead.

Did she think that alone would suffice to confirm who sent it?

Well, at least to me, it’s a definitive mark. I know which shades Silveryn uses.
T h i s w as c o p i e d fro m k ingm t l .o rg

As carelessness loosens its hold, a certain past event bubbles up from the depths of memory, followed swiftly by turmoil.

Trisha, arms crossed behind her back, crept up to me while I was still contemplating the letter and asked,

“What are you looking at so intently all by yourself?”

“A letter from my teacher.”

“Can I see?”

“No.”

As I abruptly folded the letter to keep it from her view, she pouted and gave me a hard stare.

“Do you exchange personal letters often? Just how close are you with your teacher?”

We only spent six months together, but aside from the entrance exams, we were virtually inseparable the rest of the time – sharing meals, training, relaxation, picnics, and more.

“Quite special. And exchanging letters? That’s common in a teacher-student relationship.”

“Must be nice. I had teachers back at home, too. But we never got along. I wouldn’t want to call them ‘mentor.'”

“Teachers?”

How many teachers had she had?

“Yeah, I was taught by twenty-one people.”

For a moment, I doubted my hearing.

“Twenty-one different people?”

“No. Twenty-one people at the same time.”

“…Why on earth would you need an entire battalion to teach you?”

“One after another, their job was to constantly nag at what not to do. ‘Miss Trisha, don’t do this. Don’t do that either. This isn’t allowed, nor that.’ There must be over a thousand things on the ‘not allowed’ list.”

“What’s your identity that you require such oversight?”

“…”

T hi s w a s c o p i e d f r o m k i ng mt l . o r g
Trisha bit her lip and looked into my eyes, then seemed to come to a decision and started to speak.

“Should I tell you? It’s a secret, but… I can tell you.”

“…?”

“But it seems unfair if I’m the only one sharing. Let’s exchange pasts. I’ll tell you how I lived before coming to Eternia, and then you tell me about your past. How about that?”

Her gaze was serious, the usual innocence gone.

She wasn’t just proposing an exchange of past histories. Trisha wanted a conversation about something deeper.

I evaded that probing gaze. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell Trisha about my past. Even Silveryn knows nothing of it.

My past is a burden I must carry alone. Sharing pain won’t alleviate it. I don’t believe sharing and dividing the past holds any special meaning.

“I am…”

T h i s wa s c o pi e d f r o m k i n g mt l . o r g
Before I could refuse, Trisha quickly covered my mouth with her hand.

“Wait, it doesn’t have to be today. Just remember this, and when you feel like it, tell me your story then! I can wait.”

“…”

“I’ll go wash up first!”

With that, she hurried off towards the corridor leading to my room.

***

I entered my room a while after she had vanished.

The place was in disarray with clothes Trisha had discarded. It felt like she had marked her territory before being chased off.

From my memories of the orphanage, undressing so carelessly was characteristic of young children. Usually, such behavior fades with maturity… but Trisha sometimes acts childlike.

At most, she is one or two years younger than me.

I picked up a basket and gathered Trisha’s shed garments.

Seeing no undergarments, it seemed she planned to hand-wash those herself.

Considering her wild tendencies, I wondered what kind of life she had led in the past.

Conversely, she might have had similar questions about me – a person so different from her.

Her proposal lingered in my mind.

‘Exchange pasts, huh?’

I set down the basket and sat at the table beside the terrace. The days were short this time of year, and the moon was already high.

Under the moonlight, I pondered over old memories for a while.

I could understand Trisha’s sentiments in asking about my past so earnestly.

Reflecting back, whether it was Silveryn or Trisha, it was always them reaching out to further our relationship.

Was it not frustrating to them? Although we called each other friends, we barely knew anything substantial about one another.

For a very long time, I had forgotten how to reach back.

***

The next morning, I stopped the carriage in front of Eternia’s main gate. After getting out, I said to Trisha,

“Trisha, you go back to the mansion alone tonight.”

She paused in brushing her white hair and looked puzzled.

“…Why? What are you planning to do in Eternia?”

“Yes. I have something to take care of.”

T h i s w a s c opied fro m k in g m t l. o r g
“Why won’t you tell me what it is?”

“I need to practice painting. I’ll paint until dawn and then rest at the dormitory.”

“…You’re lying.”

Her shoulder’s slumped, and her expression dimmed. The accumulation of her disappointments was clearly mounting.

Was being left in the dark all the time so unsettling for her? Once again, I saw the shadow of the young Liza in Trisha’s behavior – always clinging, sulking even with a short parting.
T hi s w a s co p i e d f r o m k i ng m t l. o r g

Are all girls like this, or do white-haired ones have a peculiar genetic attachment disorder?

“Let me keep just one secret to myself. Don’t be too upset. Instead of keeping you company tomorrow night… I’ll bake you a Sankrotis-style apple pie.”
Th i s w a s cop ied fr o m k i n g m t l .o r g

Crossing her arms in front of her, Trisha looked away in a sulk.

“…”
T h i s w as c o p i e d f ro m k i ng mtl . o r g

“If you don’t want it, I’ll eat it myself.”

“…I want some too.”

Her sulkiness disappeared as quickly as it came at the mention of making food. It was comforting that her moods could be easily swayed by such simple things.

“Good. You’re in charge of getting the ingredients. See you tomorrow.”

“What? Why should I have to prepare…!”

Before she could finish, I closed the door and tapped twice, signalling the carriage driver to move on.

That’s how you teach people not to take kindness for granted. You’d have your way if you were an adult, but you’re not, are you?

As the carriage pulled away, Trisha pressed her forehead against the rear window, shouting.

“Hey! I don’t know anything about that!!”