“...What?”

“I refuse.”

“Ah...”

A look of discomfiture clouded Professor J.B.’s face. He hadn’t expected to be turned down?

‘Figures.’

There probably weren’t many girls at the Academy who refused Professor J.B.’s requests.

‘If I couldn’t see anything and didn’t know, I’d have done the same.’

With eyes as plaintive as a puppy’s, asking for help—most people would find that hard to refuse.

‘But here’s the thing.’

Would you still feel that way after seeing this?

Camilla let her gaze slip past the crestfallen Professor J.B.

‘One ghost, two ghosts, three ghosts...’

Seven female ghosts in all.

They shared exactly one thing in common:

Every single one of them was staring at Professor J.B. with eyes full of rancor.

At first she kept it simple.

Even if you can’t see ghosts, there are people they strangely cling to, right? She figured Professor J.B. was one of that type.

But even after she drew that provisional conclusion, she couldn’t look away. Something kept snagging if she tried to ignore it.

Giving herself a little more time to watch, odd details began to surface one by one.

The ghosts following him were off. The condition of the dead was all the same.

Above all, the way they looked at Professor J.B. brimmed with resentment and rage—and fear.

Fear.

Who makes someone feel fear even after death?

Even the simple reading pointed in one direction: someone involved in how they died.

“...Sorry if that was presumptuous. I was being too greedy...”

Even so, she pretended not to notice for now. If that many women had died, there ought to be rumors somewhere.

If a murder happened, an inquiry would naturally begin.

And if the killer were Professor J.B., it most likely happened around him; she should have heard something easily.

‘But it’s too quiet.’

When she first saw Professor J.B., five ghosts were attached to him. A few days later, one more—six.

‘And when I saw him again this time, it had gone up to seven.’

While he was away from the Academy with a “bad flu,” another had joined.

At that rate, there should have been talk of some incident, but nothing reached her ears.

Just in case, she’d casually asked both the Duke of Sorpel and Ludville, who were plugged into every kind of news.

‘How’s public safety in the capital these days?’

‘Public safety?’

‘I was wondering if any women have been murdered recently. By any chance—’

‘What?’

‘What are you talking about.’

‘Did you see something in a dream again? Even if you did, do not get involved!’

As jumpy as Ravi, those two.

Only after she soothed them—said she’d just heard some odd rumor—did she get an answer: nothing of the sort had happened.

‘What is this?’

Why is it this quiet? With that many dead women—why?

Even if the bodies hadn’t been found, there should at least be missing-person reports.

“...When I saw your midterm results, I was honestly astonished... The Duke of Sorpel was overjoyed as well...”

‘Should I just ask them directly?’

She wanted to, but the concerned parties did nothing but trail after Professor J.B., so there was no opening.

No matter how she darted her eyes, the dead women’s gaze clung only to Professor J.B.

‘Asking them would be the fastest way.’

She could learn when, where, and how they died in one shot.

‘And maybe I’m mistaken.’

Maybe Professor J.B. isn’t a murderer.

Maybe it’s just hanged women happening to gather and shuffle after him, harboring resentment...

‘...Like hell.’

In all her life, she’d never once seen that kind of coincidence.

“Miss Camilla.”

“...”

“Miss Camilla?”

“Ah. Go on.”

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Dragged out of a long daze, Camilla turned her eyes back to the professor, who was looking at her with concern.

“Is something wrong at home?”

“Pardon?”

“If you have worries or anything hard going on, come see me anytime. You know I act as a counselor for students here, right?”

“I do.”

That was why students clung to him all the more—he kindly listened to their troubles.

A perpetually gentle smile and a tender manner. With that camouflage wrapped around him, passing as ordinary, who would suspect?

“It’s nothing serious...”

Camilla flicked a glance past him.

“I lost one of my earrings recently.”

“An earring?”

“Yes, a purple violet earring.”

Her gaze settled on the female ghost wearing a single violet earring in just one ear. She half-hoped the spirit might hear and look her way.

[...]

But none of the dead women reacted at all, as if the words of the living never reached them.

The ghost she’d looked at, too, only stared fixedly at Professor J.B. in silence.

“A violet earring?”

“Don’t mind it. I can buy another.”

In the end, Camilla rose quickly to her feet.

“Nothing else you wanted to say?”

“No. Ah—if you’d reconsider my proposal, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’ll think about it.”

To his renewed plea for her help, Camilla gave a light nod and slipped out.

‘So that’s the only way, after all?’

A short sigh escaped her lips.

****

‘Why is she so hard to find today?’ 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Camilla hurried all over the Academy. The one she was looking for was nowhere to be seen.

“Miss Camilla.”

A familiar voice. She turned to find Petro approaching with a mild smile.

“Where are you off to in such a rush?”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Shall I help you look?”

“No.”

Because you’re not someone who can find her.

“Are you looking for Arsian, by any chance?”

He hesitated a beat, then asked again.

“No. I’ll be going.”

“Then who are you searching for so intently?”

As she started to move, Camilla let out a small sigh.

Maybe she was just keyed up. Normally, she’d have brushed this off lightly, but today it grated on her nerves.

“Petro.”

“You can just call me Petro.”

His eyes softened.

‘That smile used to make Camilla cave every time.’

Probably because no one had ever smiled at her that kindly.

But now that she’d heard everything from Dorman, she could no longer be sure what that smile meant.

That smile was a lie.

The smile Camilla had treasured so specially meant nothing at all.

“You don’t have to do that anymore.”

“Pardon?”

“You don’t have to keep showing me kindness you don’t feel.”

The reason he did this was probably...

“I’ll give you full credit as a good person, so stop with me.”

Everyone has a face they want others to see.

Some want to be seen as kind; others as clever.

‘He probably wants to be seen as a good man.’

Petro Jevillan, kind to everyone.

By now, everyone thought of him that way.

She just found it bothersome—the way he hovered around her every time, insisting on helping.

“I’ll be going.”

She turned away. There was someone she needed to see right now.

“...”

Watching her recede, Petro couldn’t say another word.

For the first time, his smile had vanished from his face.

“Ah, fuck.”

When you don’t want him to come, he shows up just fine—and the moment you try to find him, he’s nowhere.

Not in the classroom, not at Spirit Lake.

Where on earth...

“Where are you?”

[Who?]

The voice she’d been waiting for arrived.

She whipped her head around. The student ghost Amy stood there with a teasing grin.

“Where were you all day?”

[Why? Did you miss me?]

“I need your help.”

[Hmm?]

“I have a favor to ask.”

No matter how she worked it, this was the only method.

She really didn’t want to ask a ghost for this, but what else could she do?

[What do you need me to do?]

Amy brightened. It seemed she was glad to have something to do in her endlessly boring afterlife.

“Come on first.”

Camilla hurried back toward the Academy building with Amy in tow.

[This is...]

“You know him too, right? Professor J.B.”

A little later, Camilla stopped with Amy in front of Professor J.B.’s office door.

She swept the corridor to make sure no one was around, then spoke to Amy in as low a voice as she could manage.

“Maybe you’ve seen them already.”

If anyone at the Academy knew every scrap of gossip, it was Amy—so the odds were high.

“The ghosts attached to Professor J.B.”

[...]

“Have you seen them?”

[...Yeah.]

Amy nodded.

“Then go and ask those women for me.”

[Ask what?]

“When, where, and how they died. Who killed them... in other words, whether it really was Professor J.B.”

If she asked the ghosts through Amy, there was no risk of tipping off Professor J.B., and no need to face him again.

“If talking to them is hard, you can bring the ghosts over to where I am.”

Camilla kept scanning the area, and only after she’d said everything did she look back at Amy.

But Amy’s expression was odd. The teasing smile she always wore had gone a little stiff.

“Why? Are you scared?”

Camilla asked carefully.

Her eyes moved of their own accord to Amy’s neck. The reason she’d avoided getting involved with Amy came back into stark focus.

‘Come to think of it...’

There was a mark on Amy’s neck too.

A peculiar abrasion, as if from a rope burn.