The first question I got was, “Why did you partner with Rhoswen?”

“I thought she was a good choice for the strategy I wanted to use.”

“You didn’t have any concerns about working with her?”

I could understand why someone would be wary of Rhoswen’s abilities, but I hadn’t seen this kind of scrutiny given to, say, Luka or Dagian. I folded my arms on the podium and leaned forward drawling, “Isn’t it the other way around? Shouldn’t she have been concerned about working with a Duval?”

“Seems like that confidence backfired on you,” remarked another student, without waiting for me to call on them.

“Okay, but we don’t know that,” said someone else.

“Don’t we? Or why would they have resorted to something like the Nightmare Flower?”

It was fine for them to hate me for my actions, but I didn’t want them unfairly blaming them on Rhoswen. “I decided to go ahead with that plan even when I knew other options were available,” I said. “Rhoswen just suggested it as a possible choice.”

“Yeah, and why the hell would you do that?”

“He was under Rhoswen’s influence for nearly two hours by that point,” a student across the classroom butted in. “Whatever happened, it’s definitely Rhoswen’s fault. Don’t you know what the Unseelie Court is like?”

“Didn’t you hear what he just said—”

“The Wild Hunt isn’t a true part of the Unseelie Court, that’s just the perception formed because of their alliance—” 

“That’s splitting hairs! The Unseelie specialty is influencing the unconscious mind, and what do you think the Wild Hunt does, too? Acacius just happened to go with Rhoswen’s suggestion, did he?” 

“If you knew anything about how the fae are born, you’d know that the Unseelie Court and the Wild Hunt are totally distinct—” 

“Yeah, in that the Wild Hunt are even more uncontrolled! Rhoswen shouldn’t have brought something like the Nightmare Flower in the first place!”

A clamor arose as an argument erupted, trying to decide if I was a perpetrator or if I was also some poor victim of Rhoswen’s sinister mind-warping schemes.

I picked up a book and swung it down on the podium full force. The resulting crack was so loud that the shouting cut off to a dead silence.

“What the hell kind of argument is this?” I said. “If someone beats your friend while drunk, do you say it’s not the drunkard’s fault, but the alcohol? Or even the fault of the one who sold the alcohol? My judgment may have been impaired, but I was the one who made those choices, thinking that I cared more about my goals than your safety or happiness. Even without Rhoswen’s influence, that’s still true, and I am responsible for that. I’m not even trying to escape the blame here, so what are any of you trying to excuse me for? Because you don’t like Rhoswen? It’s pathetic.”

When I narrowed my eyes at the room, some people didn’t meet my gaze. Others, with varying degrees of stubbornness or interest, returned it.

At the front of the room, a girl with pale pink hair and silver glasses pushed back her chair and stood up to face me. She was our class president, or something like that, though I didn’t really get what the point of that position was, besides doing extra work for the teachers.

“So, to be clear,” she said, “it was your choice to set that final fire?”

For the first time in this conversation, I actually felt contrite. “…No. That was a complete accident on my part.”

Turning to face the room at large, I placed my hand over my heart and imitated an Iyirian bow.

“I sincerely apologize to everyone who was endangered or affected by my actions in this regard.”

“‘In this regard’?” the class president echoed sharply. “So you don’t apologize for anything else?”

Straightening out of my bow, I shook my head and spread my hands out helplessly. “My approach was what you might colloquially call a ‘dick move’” — at this, I heard a few surprised laughs — “but it was a legitimate strategy under the exam’s rules.”

“Aren’t you afraid of making enemies like that?”

“Oh? I thought I was already vastly disliked by the majority of you…”

The class president narrowed her eyes at me. But she wasn’t the one who questioned me next; instead, it was the quiet boy with dun brown hair who sat next to her.

“Acacius, last year, when I ran for the Student Council, you laughed at me and said that my efforts to change the status quo would never amount to anything. You told me that I’d be better off bowing down to the aristocrats if I wanted to get anywhere.” Wow. Holy crap. “Do you really think that you can disregard everyone’s feelings just because you’re from one of the Six Families?”

Damn… what an asshole thing to say.

But having had access to Acacius’ journals, he didn’t seem like someone who believed in aristocratic supremacy. No, the impression I got was that he felt trapped by his family, trapped by his circumstances… and trapped by an impending future that he couldn’t share.

With that context, his words had a bit of a different light. 

“So, are you in the Student Council now?” I said.

He lifted his chin. “The secretary, in fact.”

“Then haven’t you proven those words wrong? Congratulations. As for your question… If the Six Families hold power, then naturally there are things they can do that others can’t. But if they trample on everyone’s feelings for long enough, then any backlash that occurs is their own fault. No?” I smiled. “We all have to bear the consequences of what we do.”

“As a noble, the consequences you face for your actions are less than us,” said a quiet student in the front.

That was probably true.

But having been in his position before, I could only shrug.

“As long as I live in this world, you can still reach me with your knife.”

Professor Raoul sighed and adjusted his glasses.

“That’s enough, Acacius,” he said. “Please do not advocate for violence any more than you already have. Let’s put an end to the Q & A here.”

“Ah, wait, Professor!” A student in the middle of the classroom stood up. “I still have more questions we haven’t even gotten to yet! Like, how did you realize that something was wrong in KP-04? What did you do to solve it?”

“Oh, yeah! What do you plan to with the Fantasm World?”

“Will you allow the Broken Kaleidoscope to continue its research?”

“What are your plans for Fulsgate?”

I blinked. I knew intellectually that the whole thing was a big deal, but wow.

“Do you guys bother Luka with these questions? He owns half the thing too, you know…”

Luka, who found himself the sudden recipient of attention, stiffened slightly in his seat. It was a little funny.

“Alright, everyone, you can discuss this among yourselves later,” said Professor Raoul. “Homeroom is nearly over, so let’s get ready for the day.”

I escaped back to my seat. Thankfully, the speculative looks I received diminished in number, which made me feel much more comfortable.

Unfortunately, the question-and-answer seemed to have given some people the idea that I was an approachable person, so they tried to talk to me during break. I rebuffed them rudely to disabuse them of that notion and rushed to the cafeteria for a cup of hot tea.

Taking my drink outside to the courtyard, I sat on a bench under a tree and tried Dalileh’s ether exercise. I spread my ether domain out to encompass the paper cup. Just like Dalileh said, when I focused, I could feel a sort of drop in ether saturation where the paper cup existed. I delicately felt for the smallest amount of ether I could manipulate there.

Even my “small amount” felt like it might be too much, but it fit inside the cup, so I tried typing it into fire magic.

The cup didn’t ignite, which was good news, but the tea inside did start boiling again.

I tried guiding the typed ether out of the liquid. In theory, that should have drawn heat away, but instead, the air above the cup burst into a long tongue of flame, scorching the lip of the cup.

I sighed.

It was too much to hope I could succeed in one go. I couldn’t exactly practice this subtly during class, either. But still, it was just a matter of refining my control. It’d been less than two months since I came to Kosmonymia, and I’d already improved a lot; if I set aside all my free time after school today, surely I could refine my control further?

Once break ended, I returned to the classroom to take notes and try to make heads or tails of anything they talked about in class.

The economy class, with all its statistics and math, was hard for me to keep up with. Policy and debate also made my head hurt; all those thick paragraphs of legal text, arguing over the semantics of trade agreements and criminal law, were honestly torturous. The Iyirian Government course also had us looking at historical elections, important precedents in legal cases and laws, and the history of various political committees.

All that information, without wider context or a personal goal to filter its importance through, tended to leave my head as soon as it entered, even when I made an effort to take notes. I used to think sitting through an hour of reading practice with Teacher was hard, but now it seemed like a walk in the park by comparison.

Today, however, our Iyirian Government teacher broke from his usual lecture style to talk about something more immediately relevant.

“As you know, our work-study program will begin soon,” Professor Phaedros explained, in that dull drone of his. “This storied tradition began over a hundred fifty years ago, during the War of Famines with Lemiria. The war struck during the last year of the elected king’s term, so the Six Families, in the midst of determining the next holder of the throne, were both eager for power and reluctant to take risks. Troubles began with the laissez-faire attitude of the incumbent king…”

He went into a twenty minute explanation of the governments’ various military and logistical mistakes that had me struggling to keep my eyes open before he finally got to the point: during that period of turmoil, Nithemoore students had filled in for various low-level but surprisingly critical government positions to keep Iyiria stable. After the war ended, additional civil unrest between the aristocracy and the common people forced the aristocracy to include more commoners in the Parliament and the Ministries. In addition, a program was established for Nithemoore Academy students to work in various government positions as part of their training.

For the third years who were about to graduate, their work-study programs were much more extensive and involved, and would serve as the launching points for their careers. For us second-years, though, it was more like a short apprenticeship period where we got to follow people around in their tasks, and they got extra minions to help where they were short-staffed.

And all that information was a prelude to Professor Phaedros’ real point, which was that since the Atmospheric Chancery was already in the area investigating the disruptions caused by the Order of the Black Sun and the sacrificial flow frame, they would probably have more positions open to students this year.

So to prepare us, he intended to lecture us about the Atmospheric Chancery’s history and how it joined the International Weather Association, as well as problems it had faced in recent years…

The bell rang. Professor Phaedros looked at the clock, shook his head, and muttered about how time passed too quickly these days, and he’d just have to tell us the rest of the story next time. He slowly shuffled out the door while desperate students scattered every which way for lunch.

Phew. That guy posed a serious challenge to my ability to fake attentiveness during class. Once he started talking, I just got so sleepy…

After making it through my afternoon electives somehow, I rushed to Zaire’s dorm room, helped myself to a pot from his kitchen, and went to my unofficial training field in KP-04 to practice my skills. There, I built a small campfire by the mountain stream and placed Zaire’s pot over it until the water in it started boiling.

Zaire’s pot was much more resilient to my 6E ether practice than the paper cup. It didn’t develop scorch marks, for one. However, even with that advantage, it wasn’t easy to refine my ether control; I couldn’t reduce my minimum amount of ether manipulated at a time.

So I went at it from another angle: I typed an equal amount of ether in boiling water and outside of it, paying attention to the differences in sensation and expression.

Dalileh said that since heat generated fire, it reduced ether consumption. So it made sense that, once I paid attention, I noticed three blended components in my typed ether that together produced fire. When heat was already present, my ether produced less of one specific sensation; the same was true if there was more fuel, or more air flow.

If I could figure out how to produce just that “heat” component of typed ether, I wouldn’t have to refine my control enough to draw heat from the sources around me.

To develop a feel for the different components of my typed ether, I experimented with creating fire in the boiling water, where there was heat but no oxygen or fuel; in the air above a campfire, where there was heat and air but no fuel; and of course, with small nests of tinder, which had air and fuel but no heat.

Then, after stripping off my shirt and jacket and weighing them down with rocks in the stream where they were unlikely to get burned, I stood in the middle of the creek, created a large flame in my hands, and tried to pick apart the ether that had produced it.

Although it blew up in my face a few times, my efforts paid off. As long as I concentrated, I could produce heat without flame.

If I just held that heat close by my body, I was able to induce the symptoms of a mild fever. I just had to be careful not to let the heat radiate out too much, or else it would seem unnatural. Fortunately, I had a seat by the window in class, where the sun shone through in the mornings, so a little excess heat wouldn’t be too out of place.

By this time, it was past my usual dinnertime, and I was also starving from all that energy expenditure. I left KP-04, stuffed Zaire’s rinsed pot back into the cabinet, and ran off to eat at the cafeteria before it could close.

When I returned, Zaire was in the lounge area of his dorm, books scattered about the large screen and holographic keyboard projected from a seam on the table. He looked up from the document he was writing. “Hey, Acacius! Here for the door?”

“Yeah. Will you be joining tonight?”

“Nah. I finished doing the rounds earlier; I gotta work on this research paper now. What’re you headed in for?”

“Experimenting. Don’t let me distract you. I’ll be out by midnight.”

“Take your time. And hey, if you’re gonna be using the door more often, we can always relocate it to your dorm instead.”

I shook my head. I hated the idea of two people regularly coming to what was supposed to be my private resting space. “Better to leave it for you and M.”

The rest of my night was devoted to experimenting with the sacrificial flow frame. Directing wind and gales, techniques for concentrating force, how to generate rain. The weather this week had been good, so I didn’t know how much precipitation I could count on, but if I burst the pipes at Veratrum Row, I’d still have plenty to work with.

I crashed hard after all that effort and slept like a rock. Clover woke me the next morning when it crawled over my face, chirping softly. It opened its wings, showing the screen hidden under its elytra. I’d gotten a new message.

Zaire: holy moly, what have you been up to in there? m says it looks like a natural disaster hit the mountainside!

I typed back a vague reply.

Me: I’ll try to keep the damaged area from growing in size.

Zaire: (,,•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ,,)?!

Setting Clover aside, I got up and treated myself to a nice, leisurely breakfast before setting off for school. Today was the day to fake getting sick.

I entered the classroom unenergetically, body language reserved and pulled in. During our first class, I tuned out the teacher and concentrated on generating and controlling heat, holding it close to my body where possible and diverting the excess out the open window when I couldn’t. I cleared my throat a few times, shifting uncomfortably, and drew my coat tighter around myself like I couldn’t quite get warm. This was, of course, very uncomfortable, but it helped me develop a convincing light sheen of sweat.

During our first break, I got myself hot tea from the cafeteria and hunched over at my desk, cupping my hands around my drink and sipping it slowly. At this point, I didn’t really have to fake feeling uncomfortable. I’d been planning on dragging this out until lunchtime, but maybe I could make a credible plea sooner than that.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to do much. When our second break arrived, Veric came over to find me first.

“What’s going on with you, Acacius?” she said.

I lifted my head from where I’d pressed my forehead against the cool wood of the desk for a little bit of relief. “What do you mean?”

She frowned down at me. “You don’t look too good.”

Luka, who was of course not far behind her, examined my face closely.

“Are you sick?”

“No.”

“You do look a little flushed,” said Veric. Without asking, she pressed the back of her hand to my forehead.

I pulled back and swatted her arm away irately. “It’s not a fever, I’m just a little hot.”

Luka caught my hand.

“You do feel warm,” he said.

“Maybe I have good circulation.”

“If you’re not feeling well, you should go home,” Veric said.

I glared at her sullenly. “You want me to miss class?”

“Maybe I don’t want you getting the rest of us sick.” She hauled me out of my seat by the arm. “Come on.”

“I said I’m not sick.”

Veric rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. I’ve seen enough of you acting brave already. Luka, help him grab his stuff — let’s get him out of here.”

They packed me away to the nurse’s office, where they made me agree to take a campus shuttle back to the dorms before they reluctantly returned to class. The nurse assured me that she would help record my absence and had me lie down on one of the sick bay’s cots until the shuttle arrived.

“You have good friends,” she said. “It’s important to have someone watching out for you — even if you think you’re better off without it.”

“Not friends,” I muttered, even though they weren’t around to hear me deny it.

If we really were friends, then I’d have to take a lot more responsibility for our relationships. As someone who knew them under a fake identity, I didn’t know if I could.

The nurse gave me an indulgent smile and placed a glass of water on the stand by the bed.

“If they aren’t your friends yet, then make sure to keep them around until they are.”

It was a relief to get onto the shuttle and leave for the dorms.

Once I’d been dropped off, I went to my room to have a cool drink and rest before lunch. I needed to give my mind and body some time to relax after all that.

Then, since the timing was convenient, I went off to Veratrum Row to case the area mid-day.

The report from Etienne and Thais had helpfully included photos of the entrances and exits of the various buildings on Veratrum Row, as well as advice for where to avoid cameras, wards, alarms, and stuff like that. They’d also included a brief profile on all of its inhabitants, focusing on their schedules and security habits.

The primary residents were mostly gone during the school day; the Nithemoore students were at school, and their protectors with them. However, most of the houses had at least one security guard on premises in case of ill-intentioned people like me, and quite a few of them had cooks, cleaners, and gardeners coming by as well.

All of this was a problem if I wanted to enter and exit without being noticed, but since I wanted to draw attention with my attack, I figured it would be okay. What I really needed to know was how quickly I could handle the security guards before reinforcement arrived.

I didn’t go directly to Veratrum Row; instead, using Cynara’s face, I walked through the neighborhood around the area until I found a nice park full of trees that were easy to climb and hide in. I hopped into one such oak, made myself comfortable, and used [Incarnation] to transform.

With [Incarnation] active, I used the eyes of everyone in Veratrum Row to spy on each other, the security guards’ positions, and the internal layouts of each house.

It would have been convenient to have some kind of tranquilizer to knock out the security guards at range… Too bad I didn’t have a skill to help with that. I’d just have to deal with them the hard way.

I observed for a while, specially noting down the security staffs’ positions and habits. When the school cafeteria’s lunchtime hours were nearly over, I reluctantly left to grab something before it could close.

After that, I bundled up some non-perishable foods for a light dinner and went to Zaire’s dorm to access KP-04. I planned to practice with the sacrificial flow frame for the rest of the day.

As soon as I entered the Fantasm World, a familiar beetle-like creature flew over and landed on my hand before unfolding its wings to reveal a small screen underneath.

dont destroy any more of the mountain & try to keep the stream bed untouched. weve got limited habitat for our research. - M

The seam only remained on my hand for a moment before leaving without waiting for a response.

I scratched the back of my head, shrugged, and went to my unofficial practice area to do my thing.

I did my best to abide by M’s request, but the wind and rain conjured up by my practice still did some damage to the surroundings…

I mentally apologized to M. Such was the price of racing towards my goal.

I didn’t leave KP-04 until pretty late at night, when I was finally confident in using the sacrificial flow frame in battle to a degree.

So of course, I wanted to test the viability of my plan.

That night, as I went to sleep, I activated [Bound Prophet of the Single Path] with a clearly articulated goal in mind. 

I want to see what will happen if I carry out the attack on Veratrum Row tomorrow.

I slept, and then I dreamed.

I wasn’t in control of myself in the dream; I was a spectator in my own body, watching myself carry out actions that I felt seemed right.

My dream self used my seam to message Veric, asking if she could check in on Cynara at Veratrum Row at lunch, and maybe check on a couple other things at that time, too. After a bit of back and forth, Veric agreed.

I dreamed I went out to a costume shop, using my brother’s scavenger friend as a disguise, and found myself a black robe and cheap white mask. I didn’t buy it, though; instead, I went into their private changing room and used [Honest Man’s Deception] to transform into what I’d looked like when I’d had the net amulet on. I shed the clothes of that disguise and put on the robe and mask instead. It was a good enough approximation of the Order’s outfit. Then, shedding the costume shop’s goods, I used [Honest Man’s Deception] to transform into “Jeong Eunseok from about thirty seconds ago.” Lo and behold, I could now transform into a self with the net amulet and the disguise.

I pretended to try on a couple other outfits before I left the shop without buying anything. Then, when the lunchtime hour came around, I left for Veratrum Row.

In a hiding spot, I used [Incarnation] to monitor the area until I glimpsed Veric at the edge of my sensing range.

Then, of course, I transformed into my suspicious disguise and walked out to Veratrum Row.

Everything went swimmingly at first. Raising my arms, I summoned the wind and the rain, shattering every single window on the block. The workers screamed and fled for cover. Half the security guards rushed out while the other half frantically started transmitting requests for help. I pulled at the water running through the pipes until they burst, knocking people over their feet and sweeping them out of the houses.

I pushed the workers roughly away from the houses and proclaimed some loud threats towards the scions of the Six Families. As Nastaran peeked out the window of her house, scoping out the situation, I approached with the storm at my back. Things were looking pretty good.

Then, a jagged flash of blue light tore the sky wide open.

Principal Crescent Sun appeared in the air, surrounded by a cyan halo like a miniature star. Her eyes shone with such intensity that her dark glasses couldn’t keep the light from pouring out.

“I was hoping one of you little rats would appear,” she said.

With a single grabbing motion from her hand, space refracted around me until I found myself in the air in front of her, gripped around the throat by that very hand. If her iron grasp didn’t do it, the sheer presence and power rolling off her would have been enough to crush my breath. As it was, my body felt frozen, like I was trapped in a casing of lead. I had no strength to struggle at all.

Principal Sun tilted her head down to look at me over her shades. Her expression was cold. Cruel, even.

“Show me what you’re hiding in there,” she said, lifting her free hand and placing one long, violet fingernail against my forehead. “And then, die.”

Do something, I screamed at myself. Anything!

My dream self must have felt the same way. Through his reflection on Principal Sun’s sunglasses, I saw the phantom of a blood-red lotus bloom behind him.

I shouldn’t have known what it was, but my instinct told me.

That was the [Bloody Seed of Paradise].

Principal Sun’s eyes flashed. The bones of my neck ground against each other as she squeezed.

Too late to stop what I’d started. 

We were pulled into the vision of her greatest dream.

Chapter 59 Back to Index