Doggone Academy-Chapter 92 The Shadow (15)

As it was time to return to the dormitory after finishing her training, Lilith rose from the stump where she had been sitting.

Her clothes were smeared with dust and dirt; some parts were scorched by the backlash of her own magic.

She wiped the sweat from her cheeks and wobbled out of the forest path.

This grueling routine would continue tomorrow and the day after.

Compared to the geniuses of Eternia, the talent she possessed was almost paltry.

Thus, she had to reinvent herself day by day.

She would gradually sort out insincere relationships. They were nothing more than time-wasters.

The pleasure derived from the attention and gaze of others was fleeting. Surrendering to such lethargic bliss could lead to a high price later on.

She knew this all too well from experience.

Even when she wanted to help someone, she ended up treated like baggage, ignored.

When she truly desired something, she missed out on the opportunity and saw it taken by others.

Lost in thought as she walked, she stumbled over something and fell.

Ouch

Struggling to her feet, she picked up a piece of Plantara remains that tripped her and took a look around after spotting traces of someone elses passage.

About twenty paces away, there were footsteps, powdered tree bark, and scattered fragments of Plantaras.

Examining the remains she had picked up, she realized it was no magic. The joints were cleanly dissected.

She went to the site of the battle and inspected more closely. It wasnt just one; nearly all the Plantaras strewn in front of her had been similarly dismantled.

This is

She knew someone who used such a distinctive sword technique.

Lilith began to backtrack the faint human footprints on the dirt floor.

Could they still be nearby?

Urged by a sudden anxiousness, she started running, breathless. Soon, the twilight that had been obscured by the forest bathed her face.

Following the trail for a while, the forest gave way to a small hill covered with flowers.

She stopped at the edge of the woods.

Her eyes widened in realization.

It was the same place where she had encountered the art club students before.

***

In the carriage heading to the mansion.

The jostling, which others might have found uncomfortable, gave Trisha a secret thrill.

She had kicked off her flats in one corner of the carriage. Her socks lay tossed beside her on the seat. One shoe had flipped over due to the carriages movement, but she paid it no mind.

Trisha randomly strung together the words popping into her head and hummed her own created tune while playfully poking at Damians shin sitting opposite her with her bare feet.

Whether he cared or not, Damian was lost in thought, gazing at the evening sunset.

He seemed not to be bothered by such trivial stimulus. At times, it was like looking at a tree that had weathered decades in the same spot.

That steadfastness allowed Trisha to show her true self to Damian. If he had been as fickle as her, they probably wouldnt have become friends.

The downside was that he sometimes seemed too indifferent to those around him, forgetting the words he himself had spoken.

Damian, Damian. Youre such a dunce for not remembering what you say.

Watching his flustered reaction also provided a novel amusement. Of course, it wouldnt do for him to be swayed by someone else. It only mattered if he was swayed by Trisha herself.

Damian gave Trisha an inscrutable look before speaking calmly.

Trisha.

Yeah, yes!

I have something to ask.

Something you want to know about me?

Damians eyes narrowed slightly.

Do you ever find the existence of men repulsive?

Trisha paused to ponder the intent behind the question before responding.

Of course!

When do you feel that way?

Want to really know?

Yes.

When someone tells me Im pretty but doesnt remember saying it at all.

Also, when they try to creepily stroke my hair in the middle of the night and shamelessly deny it the next morning.

Without showing any change in expression, Damian turned his gaze back out the window.

After a few seconds of silence, he spoke again.

That would be enough to make them detestable.

After saying that, Trisha unexpectedly felt slighted, crossing her arms and huffing.

Humph.

Thats it? I kindly explained why and thats all the reaction I get? His nonchalance was subtly irritating.

Trisha squirmed a bit, shifting her seat to a diagonal direction from Damian, and said,

I dont want to talk to you.

Pretending as if he hadnt heard, Damian brought up another question blatantly.

Let me ask you one more thing.

I heard about it today. Theres an art club assignment called Drawing a Friend.

Each member has to invite a friend and for that, I need you. Can you come?

As a matter of obligation between friends, she couldnt simply dismiss his words. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and then opened them, speaking petulantly.

Where do I need to go tomorrow.

No rush. Ill let you know after the joint class is over.

That meant waiting at least ten more days. Realizing she had been led along by Damian, Trisha burst out in annoyance.

Then you couldve told me later. Why say it now!

She picked up the socks lying beside her and flung them at Damian.

He casually shook the socks off as they hit him and said,

Its unhygienic. Put them away.

They dont smell; I just wore them for a moment!!

Deflated, Trisha stretched out on the carriage seat and laid down.

So annoying

Ignoring her reaction, Damian spoke up again.

Trisha.

Why, what!

Have you ever read the book Canary and the Clown?

Yes.

Damians voice grew more solemn.

Tell me about it. Its important.

Trisha glanced sideways at Damians face and replied in a blunt tone.

Its about a mute noble girl and a clown traveling together. Want to hear more?

Damian nodded.

The noble girl regains her laughter thanks to the clowns foolishness, and eventually her muteness is healed. But I hate that story.

Why?

After she is healed, the clown leaves, and the noble girl ends up marrying a prince. Thats so wrong, she shouldve married the clown.

Trisha cast another sidelong glance at Damian.

But why ask about that all of a sudden?

He didnt respond.

***

Not today.

After a simple meal at the mansion, Damian deftly stopped Trisha from entering his room together.

She rounded her eyes in surprise and asked,

Why?

I have something I must do alone.

I wont bother you, Ill just lie down?

He shook his head.

What could be this task he had to do alone? It didnt seem like he was making up stories. Damian had been absorbed in something all day since the carriage ride.

No amount of pleading or tantrums seemed likely to change his mind.

What is it? Cant I help you with it?

No.

His firm rejection painted a look of disappointment on Trishas face.

Are you hiding something from me? Cant you share it with me? Im your friend, arent I?

There was something sad about not being included, about being left out as he concentrated on something without saying a word.

Damian shook his head.

Could it be related to the play he had inquired about earlier? Surely he couldnt be interested in theater?

Before Trisha could probe further, Damian entered his room and shut the door behind him.

She turned back down the corridor with slumped shoulders.

***

Damian entered his own room.

Leaning against the door for a moment, his thoughts turned to Luna.

He envisioned Luna with her hearts door shut and what she might lose in her future life.

Disliking almost half of Eternia, she wouldnt even have normal chances for encounters, let alone sweet memories with the opposite sex.

Damian enjoyed the vibrant life at Eternia. Walking on campus, laughter was always heard from somewhere, carrying the power to shake off worries.

And the more he encountered this bright vitality, the more vividly he felt Lunas suffering in the shadows, gouging at his heart.

Damian believed Lunas laughter should be among those sounds.

He thought about the play Luna said she would read when she woke up Canary and the Clown.

Its incredibly painful to live trapped by trauma, but there are those who dont wish to break free. No one can help such a person.

What he wanted to know was simple.

Did Luna have the will to change?

Was there a desire to grasp the hand extended to her?

And from what he had heard today, the answer was clear.

Damian was willing to become the clown for her.

He knew now what he had to do.

The only clue left.

The alchemist who had been captured by a warlock and turned into a ghoul.

Records left by someone related to the warlock.

It was to decipher the research notes of Zverev.

Hoping desperately that they contained information about the dark spirit.

Damian made his way straight to the bed.

He lifted one of the floor tiles underneath it and took out the hidden research records of Zverev.

Then he sat down at the desk and opened the document. There were a total of four recipes. The first was Griffin Potion.

The first recipe was written in the common tongue of the continent, so it posed no problem in deciphering.

The problem lay with what came after. The second recipe was more of a travelogue or essay format; some parts were in the common language while others were in an unknown script.

The third and the fourth recipes consisted entirely of unknown languages and hieroglyphics, which would take a considerable amount of time to interpret.

There was a reason he could not entrust the interpretation of this research to someone else.

Damian revisited the warning written in the opening chapter of the second recipe.

[Should these recipes fall into someone elses hands, I presume I will be dead. The alchemists recipes are everything, and losing them equates to death.]

[Whether you have become an investigator of the magical society or a petty thief, I want to advise the next owner of these recipes. These are not for the public good. Be extremely cautious when sharing recipes. Burn them if you cannot cope. While burning is advised, if that is not feasible, ensure you keep them exclusively for yourself. The desire of others might consume you in flames instead of the recipe.]

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