“Father said you should stop by.”

“Me? Why?”

“We’re about to start selling that thing. He says there are a few matters to discuss first.”

He meant the mana stone.

“Got it. Tell him I’ll come by soon.”

Arsian gave a light nod and turned away at once. Watching him go, Camilla laughed briefly again.

So you do carry messages now?

Delivering words like that himself, even.

When the Duke of Sephra had visited the house and was leaving, he and Camilla had, out of others’ sight, exchanged a few words for a very short moment.

He’d said he’d heard that Sier had departed—said he’d heard from Arsian that the child had left with a smile—and then the Duke of Sephra opened his heavy mouth.

Thank you.

It had been an extremely short sentence, but from that single line Camilla understood. The reason he had bothered to visit the house that day wasn’t the Guardian at all—he had come simply to say that one line in person.

“Lady Camilla!”

A bright voice flew in from somewhere. It was Laila.

As always, she scurried up to Camilla, face beaming.

“Congratulations! First place! I’m so proud I could burst! I want to go home and brag to my parents—that my friend took first!”

It was scary that she meant that sincerely. And yet—

“Friend?”

“Ah...”

Laila’s face flushed in an instant.

A friend, huh.

Such a foreign word.

Back in school in the other world, and later in show business, it was a word she had never once said out loud.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, this? You seemed to like it last time, so I made some butter and jam.”

Smiling, Laila handed over a box. When Camilla opened it, it was packed just as she’d said—with butter and strawberry jam and the like.

Ferrol will love this.

When she’d passed along the desserts Laila made last time, he had been moved to tears.

First, by the fact he could taste food again after so long; then, once more, by the rich flavors she’d crafted.

“Oh my! It’s Professor J.B.!”

“He’s back!”

“Is he well now?”

A stir rose off to one side. From the far end of the corridor, squeals of delight spread as the girls chattered.

“Looks like Professor J.B. has returned,” Laila said, smiling too.

Professor J.B.—the professor in charge of 2nd-year history. In his mid-twenties, and very popular with the students.

For one, his temperament was gentle and he was very kind to students. His classes were fun and well taught, and above all, he was incredibly handsome! That made him especially popular with the girls.

Not long ago he’d caught a nasty bout of flu, they said, and hadn’t come to school for a few days. Then, after a week, he now showed himself again.

At his appearance, students greeted him warmly and clustered around him.

“It’s a relief to see you looking healthy.”

Laila clapped, delighted he’d returned. Watching the students’ reactions, Camilla, too, couldn’t take her eyes off Professor J.B.

“Has everyone been well?”

“Yes!”

“Professor! We missed you so much!”

“Are you all right now?”

“Thanks to you, I’m healthy again. Sorry to have worried you.”

As ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) ever, he met each student’s eyes and spoke with them one by one.

“One more,” Camilla murmured.

“Pardon?” Laila turned at the soft words, but Camilla’s gaze was still fixed on Professor J.B. It sounded like she’d said something had increased. Increased what?

“...”

But with that, Camilla pressed her lips shut and said nothing more.

****

“Brother, are you busy?”

“...Not busy, not busy!”

Ravi peered, squinting, at Camilla peeking in the door to ask the exact same question as last time.

He had no idea what she was playing at these days. Why ask if she wasn’t going to listen when he said he was busy!

“What now.”

“So, uh.”

“So what.”

“There’s this murderer.”

“...What did you say?”

“No, no. Not my story.”

“Speak clearly! It’s really not related to you?”

Camilla, who’d started lightly, grew a touch flustered. His reaction was sharper than she’d expected.

She’d come to him lightly because, among the people of this house, he was the one least interested in her affairs.

“You saw something again, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t you see something weird again!”

“No.”

This man had annoyingly keen intuition.

“Really not?”

“Mm.”

“...”

Even with her denial, Ravi didn’t easily withdraw his sharp gaze.

Truly unexpected.

She just needed some light advice.

She wanted to hear what people here thought of murderers, and what sort of punishment they received. No matter how long she’d watched this place, she’d never had any contact with an actual murderer.

“I’ll warn you again: don’t go doing anything dangerous by yourself. This time, Father won’t forgive you either.”

He meant when she’d dived into the lake to find the Guardian’s egg.

Ravi kept shooting her suspicious looks, as if to ask whether she’d seen something in a dream again and was about to step into danger.

“It’s someone I know.”

“Who?”

“Would you even know them if I told you?”

“So what? Why are you asking something like that? ‘Murderer’? Is that some topic you just toss around?”

“My friend says she saw someone strange.”

“You don’t have any friends.”

“...”

Jerk.

Worse was that she couldn’t even refute it.

“Keep talking.”

“That friend happened to find out that someone she knows is a murderer. So...”

“Tell her to report it.”

Ravi’s answer came at once, as if there were nothing to mull over.

“She has no evidence.”

“How does she know that person is a murderer without evidence?”

“Mm... call it a gut feeling?”

“Are you kidding me? How do you finger a murderer with a gut feeling?”

“No physical evidence, but the mental evidence is too certain—that sort of thing.”

“So?”

“People keep dying, it seems, but she doesn’t know exactly what to do.”

“Is she close to the murderer?”

“No.”

“Any chance she’ll be the murderer’s next target?”

“Not particularly?”

“Tell her to drop it.”

“Huh?”

“Tell her to look the other way.”

“But he’s still a murderer. What if someone else dies?”

“You said there’s no evidence, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then she can’t even make a report. Best not to take useless risks—just pretend she doesn’t know. If a murder has occurred, the guards will investigate on their own, so leave it be.”

That was the right call, wasn’t it?

Camilla nodded. The unpleasant feeling didn’t disappear, but however she looked at it, he seemed right.

Even if you witnessed the crime scene—how many people could immediately report it?

If your safety were guaranteed, or if there were a good chance the murderer would be caught right away—then sure, you could report it without hesitation.

But if not?

If the evidence is insufficient and there’s a chance the murderer digs up your identity and marks you?

Then staying out of it is the answer.

This wasn’t just anything—this was something that could entangle you with a murderer. Camilla firmed her decision.

Thunk.

“What’s that?”

“Picked it up on the way.”

Rising from her seat, Camilla tossed a small box onto Ravi’s desk.

Ravi, puzzled, opened it and stared blankly inside for a while.

A small brooch lay within—a silver fox.

“How is it? Pretty, right?”

“...Can’t say I’ll have any use for it.”

“Then give it back!”

When Camilla reached to snatch it, Ravi quickly whisked the brooch aside.

He always has to talk like that!

Watching him, Camilla clicked her tongue softly.

“But why a fox?”

“Huh?”

“Why a fox.”

At his question, Camilla’s eyes lost their track.

“I’m leaving.”

She fled at once. She couldn’t exactly say she’d picked it because you’re a little fox.

“What’s with her?”

After a moment watching Camilla in puzzlement, Ravi’s gaze returned to the gift box.

“Pointless nonsense...”

He grumbled on and on, unaware that his lips were curving into a gentle arc.

****

“Welcome, Lady Camilla.”

A joke of the gods?

I already have plenty of complaints about you!

You damned god!

Camilla let out a small sigh. Just looking at the face of the man seated across from her made a sigh slip out on its own.

I swore so hard.

Even this morning, she’d taken Ravi’s advice and sworn again and again to absolutely not get involved.

See but pretend not to see; hear but pretend not to hear.

And yet...

Why did she have to be facing this man right now?

“The reason I asked you to come today, Lady Camilla, is nothing else—it’s about the assignment you submitted last time.”

“The assignment?”

Girls coming and going through the staff room were all looking at her with envy.

Because the one sitting before her, guiding the conversation with a kindly smile, was Professor J.B. himself.

“What about my assignment? Was something wrong with it?”

“No.”

Professor J.B. hastily shook his head at Camilla’s question.

“On the contrary, it was so perfect that I called you in.”

“Pardon?”

“I was wondering if I could use the historical materials Lady Camilla submitted.”

Thanks to the Duke of Sorpel—who collected old texts and rare books as a hobby—and to Ravi, the ducal library contained a great many precious volumes.

So this history assignment—research a nation, city, or race that once existed but has now vanished—could be completed to perfection.

She’d finished it by appending materials not widely known, and it seemed to have caught Professor J.B.’s eye.

“Yes, use them as you please.”

“Ah! Thank you so much.”

“Is that all you needed?”

“I’m sorry, but would it be possible to see the original books the materials came from?”

“That won’t do. They’re books my father treasures.”

“Ah... what a pity.”

His expression turned woeful in an instant.

“Could the Lady perhaps help me instead?”

“Help?”

“Yes. Since you’ve read them all, you could be of great help to my research. As I understand it, those books are now difficult to obtain anywhere on the continent. That’s why I’m asking.”

Professor J.B.’s eyes were very earnest.

“You’re not trying to pressure me, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I refuse.”

“...I beg your pardon?”

“I refuse.”

“Ah...”

Bewilderment spread across Professor J.B.’s face. He hadn’t expected to be refused.