“Little Mari, I wish you would say thank you when I help you with your blankets, rather than asking a question like ‘Why are you in my room?’ which ruins our friendship.”
“...Get out of my house!”
...
Lovell held her head and crouched by the window while Margarita sat on the edge of her bed, watching her. “So, you came to call for me during your lunch break just to go for a walk?”
“Yeah. You don’t have classes today anyway, and I saw Instructor Clara head out. Aren't you bored of being cooped up in the academy all day?”
“Where to?”
“Anywhere, just a stroll through the city.” Lovell shook a small cloth bag in her hand, the clinking of copper coins ringing out. “I picked up a gathering commission at the Adventurer’s Association yesterday and earned a few coppers on the side. I’ll treat you to some of those street-side kebabs.”
Margarita glanced at her.
Lovell was wearing a faded short-sleeved shirt today with an old copper button pinned to her collar, and the two short daggers at her waist were polished to a shine. She looked the same as usual, grinning with her small canine tooth peeking through.
But the dark circles under her eyes were far too obvious. Furthermore, Margarita practiced that fake smile of hers in the mirror for a few minutes every day; she knew it when she saw it.
“Let’s go,” Margarita said as she stood up, not exposing her.
The afternoon in Himlabacken was lively. People came and went along the main street, carriages rattled heavily over the cobblestones, and street vendors shouted their wares at the top of their lungs while the fat from roasting meat sizzled over charcoal. Lovell stopped at a stall, ordered four meat skewers, and handed two to Margarita.
“Is Joshua at the Student Council today?”
“Yeah, Constance arranged a mission briefing.” Margarita took a bite of the meat. “She said he needs to familiarize himself with the procedures first; he won't be doing field work for now.”
“That’s pretty good then.” Lovell finished a skewer in three bites. “Are the people in the Student Council easy to get along with?”
“I don't know, I didn't go.” Margarita looked at her. “Why have you been asking so much about Joshua today?”
Could the little red-haired girl have finally awakened to something?
Lovell paused mid-bite on her second skewer, then continued naturally. “Just asking. The three of us came here together; it can’t be that I’m the only one who doesn’t care about him.”
Margarita didn't respond. The two of them walked slowly along the main street. As they passed the entrance of the Adventurer’s Association, Margarita noticed Lovell tilt her head and sweep her gaze over the notice board covered in commissions. She quickly looked away.
But Margarita had seen it.
She didn't jump to conclusions immediately, but she made a mental note of it. Lovell was acting. And she was trying so hard that she hadn't even realized that the more she tried to act normal, the more obvious it was that something was wrong.
That night, Margarita tossed and turned in her dormitory bed, unable to sleep. Next door, Clara’s light was still on, and the sound of pages turning came through the wall, steady and quiet.
She replayed the day's events in her head. The dark circles under Lovell’s eyes, the slight imbalance in her steps, and that glance at the Adventurer’s Association. Plus, the school legend that had been circulating in the academy recently.
“Have you heard? There’s a red-haired ghost on the path behind the library at midnight.”
“What kind of thing is it?”
“I don't know, just a shadow that zips by. A student from the Magic Department forgot something in the lab and saw it on her way back; she was so scared she didn't come to class the next day.”
“Could it be a monster?”
“How could there be monsters in the city? The academy has a barrier. It must be a person.”
“A person with red hair? There aren't many redheads in the academy...”
Margarita had heard this conversation while queuing at the cafeteria yesterday. At the time, she hadn't paid it much mind, thinking some student had been caught sneaking out and made up a ghost story to cover it. But now, she connected those dots to Lovell’s state.
Red hair, middle of the night. There really weren't many red-haired people in the academy. And Lovell Reed just happened to be one of them.
The next morning, Margarita ran into Joshua in the cafeteria. He had arrived earlier than usual, sitting before a bowl of porridge he hadn't touched much, flipping through a file. Seeing Margarita approach with her tray, he moved the file aside.
“Student Council business?” Margarita sat down.
“Yeah, the mission procedures for the Special Action Group.” Joshua closed the file. “The President wants me to look them over, then follow her to a base outside the city for a field survey.”
“When?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
Margarita’s hand paused for a moment while scooping her porridge, then resumed. She nodded and said nothing. Joshua looked at her, seemingly waiting for her to speak, but Margarita just kept her head down and ate.
“Aren't you going to say something?” Joshua asked.
“Say what?”
“About the application form... You said you wanted to wait and see, but the very next day you told me to hand it in.”
Margarita put down her spoon and looked at him for a moment. Joshua’s blue eyes were very earnest, just like they were every time he finished training and waited for her to say “Good job.”
She smiled, her blue eyes curving into crescents.
“I think the President was right about one thing: I can't keep making decisions for you forever.”
Joshua opened his mouth to say something else, but a flurry of footsteps came from the cafeteria entrance. Lovell walked in, carrying her Swordsmanship Department training bag, her face still wearing that wide grin.
“Morning, Joshua! Little Mari!” She sat down next to Joshua, tossed her training bag onto the table, and reached for the bread in front of him.
“That’s mine,” Joshua said.
“Just one bite, just one.”
“You haven't even washed your hands.”
“What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.”
Margarita watched from the side as Lovell tore off half the bread and stuffed it into her mouth, her cheeks bulging. She noticed the hand Lovell was using—there was a new red mark on the web of her thumb, looking like it had been rubbed raw by something rough.
From swordsmanship practice? No. Lovell’s weapons were short daggers; her grip wouldn't chafe the thumb web like that. The position and shape of that mark looked more like it came from holding something thicker and heavier for a long time.
Like a hunting knife. The kind adventurers used in the wild.
“Lovell,” Margarita spoke up.
“Mmph?” Lovell looked up with her mouth full of bread.
“How have you been sleeping lately?”
“Great!” Lovell swallowed the bread and patted her chest. “Why?”
“Nothing, just that your eyes look a bit dark.”
“Oh, that.” Lovell reached up to rub her eyes. “I’ve been practicing my swordsmanship a bit late recently. Joshua is getting extra training from Professor Glion every day; I’d feel bad if I slacked off.”
Joshua nodded. “You have indeed been more serious than before.”
Lovell grinned at him, stuffed the rest of the bread into her mouth, and stood up, brushing the crumbs off her hands. “I’m off. Gotta keep working hard today!”
As she walked out with her training bag, she passed Margarita, and Margarita caught a very faint scent: the smell of rust. Mixed with sweat and the grease of the cafeteria, it was almost undetectable. But Margarita knew that smell; she had smelled it when changing Joshua's bandages before. It was blood. Not fresh blood, but the kind that had stained clothes and remained even after washing.
Margarita’s hand tightened around her porridge bowl.
That night, Margarita did not sleep.
Wearing her Magic Department uniform jacket and with the silver-white gun tucked into her back waistband, she waited for the light in Clara’s room to go out before stealthily opening her dormitory window. Her dorm was on the first floor. After thinking it over, she cast Feather Fall on herself.
Feather Fall, a Transmutation auxiliary spell, acts on the target's body to significantly reduce their weight, allowing for silent landings and increased jump height. She had only used it on a leaf during practice before, making the leaf float above the table without landing for a long time. Now, applying the spell to herself, she felt her entire body suddenly become much lighter. With every step she took, the sound of friction between her soles and the stone floor vanished.
She hopped over the windowsill and quietly left the dormitory.
The night was thick. Only a few main streetlights in the academy were lit; the teaching buildings and paths were all immersed in darkness. Margarita avoided the patrolling academy guards and followed the path behind the library toward the side gate. She had walked this path once during the day to confirm no guards would pass by.
When she reached the side gate, she saw the lock hanging on the chain, but it wasn't fully closed. Margarita took the lock off and pushed the gate open. Outside was a narrow alley that connected to a street on the outer edge of the academy. At this hour, there was almost no one on the street, save for the dim yellow glow of a few distant streetlights swaying in the wind.
She walked out of the alley and turned a corner, spotting a figure in the distance. Red hair, short ponytail, two short daggers at her waist, walking with a brisk pace. She wasn't wearing her academy uniform but had changed into a dark, close-fitting outfit and carried a small, bulging bag.
Margarita followed behind, maintaining a half-block distance. Keeping Feather Fall active, her footsteps were so light she couldn't even hear them herself.
It’s not like I’m worried about you, Lovell. I’m just doing this to practice my mana control. This is practical study.
The figure crossed three streets and finally stopped in front of a three-story stone building. An iron plaque hung by the door with the words “Adventurer’s Association” engraved on it. The lights inside the building were still on, and the first-floor door was half-open, with several adventurers dressed in similar practical gear and carrying weapons going in and out.
Lovell pushed the door and went inside.
Margarita stood in the shadows across the street, watching that door.
The Adventurer’s Association. That gathering commission she had mentioned during the day. Margarita had assumed Lovell went during the day. But now, at midnight, there were even more adventurers moving in and out of the association than during the daylight hours, each with a solemn expression as if preparing to set out.
Night hunting.
Margarita remembered the Adventurer’s Association from the game. Commissions accepted during the day were usually for gathering, escorting, or clearing low-tier demons. The real money was in night hunting. The association would commission adventurers to hunt down stray mid-tier magical beasts; ordinary adventurers wouldn't dare take these alone and had to form parties. The rewards for night hunting were three to five times higher than those during the day.
Lovell’s room and board were fully covered by the academy, and her Swordsmanship Department uniform and weapons were also provided. But the things she used daily—the oil to wipe her daggers, the thread to repair her leather armor, the rations and herbs consumed during the journey from Bilk Town to the capital, and the bandages and medicine used after every battle—were all paid for out of her own pocket. She had never asked Margarita or Joshua for a single coin.
Margarita leaned against the wall, watching the association entrance. After about fifteen minutes, the door opened again. Lovell walked out, followed by four people: a tall, thin man with a longbow, a short, stout woman with a shield, and two young men who looked like brothers with longswords at their waists.
A team of five, the standard configuration for a night hunt party.
Lovell walked at the front, her face stripped of the grinning expression she wore during the day. Her head was down, fingers hooked around the grips of her daggers at her back, her steps quick as she headed toward the city’s East Gate.
Once out of the city, the road became difficult to traverse. Outside the East Gate was a stretch of rolling hills overgrown with shrubs. Under the moonlight, one could barely see the gravel and tree roots underfoot. Margarita didn't dare follow too closely but couldn't afford to lose them either, so she relied on the blurry figures in the distance and the occasional sound of footsteps to judge the direction. However, Feather Fall made her movements far lighter than usual, and the people ahead remained completely unaware.
After about an hour of walking, the group ahead stopped.
Margarita crouched behind a cluster of bushes, looking through the gaps in the leaves. The five people spread out at the edge of a forest clearing. The stout woman slammed her shield into the ground, the archer climbed a tree, and the two young swordsmen flanked the left and right while Lovell crouched at the very front, one hand pressed to the ground.
In the center of the clearing, a massive wild boar was rooting through the dirt with its head down. Black bristles stood up along its spine from its back to its shoulders like rows of iron nails, gleaming with a dull metallic luster under the moonlight.
Its nose twitched constantly as it made low grunting sounds, its tusks protruding from both sides of its mouth. A Bristle-Spined Wild Boar. An intermediate monster with thick skin and high physical power; it would go berserk when enraged and could shoot out its bristles.
Lovell slowly raised her hand and made a gesture. The archer drew his bowstring. The first arrow flew out, striking the boar’s hind leg and piercing through the hide. The boar let out a sharp howl, its body whipping around as its bristles stood even straighter.
“It’s going berserk! Look out!” the stout woman shouted, raising her shield in front of her.
The boar lowered its head and charged her. The shield made a muffled thud upon impact; the woman was knocked back several steps, her heels carving two deep furrows into the ground. The two swordsmen rushed in from the sides, their longswords hacking at the boar’s back, only to bounce off the bristles, leaving a few white scratches.
Lovell charged in from the front.
Her speed was incredible. With a flash of red, Lovell had already slipped to the side of the boar. She held her left-hand dagger in a reverse grip and plunged it into the patch of soft skin behind the boar’s shoulder blade where there were no bristles.
The dagger sank in up to the hilt. The boar let out a piercing scream and thrashed its body violently, flinging Lovell away. Margarita performed a hand sign, and mana threads wrapped around Lovell’s body as Feather Fall gently caught her.
“Huh?” The impact Lovell expected never came, leaving her momentarily stunned.
The boar had gone berserk. Its bristles shot out in all directions like arrows. The archer jumped down from the tree to dodge, a bristle grazing his calf and leaving a trail of blood. The two swordsmen were nearly turned into pincushions by the hail of bristles, but then a pink barrier of light flickered into existence, blocking all the projectiles.
The stout woman charged again with her shield, but this time the boar didn't hit her head-on. It veered around the shield and charged toward the injured archer. With a bleeding calf, the archer couldn't move fast, and the boar’s tusks were almost upon him.
Suddenly, the light wall that had been hovering before the swordsman brothers vanished with a hum and reappeared in front of the archer. The boar slammed into it with a muffled thud, its face smushing against the barrier. The light wall shook violently, spiderweb cracks spreading from the point of impact before the entire barrier shattered into fragments.
Lovell paused as she was getting up from the ground. She stared at the dissipating pale pink barrier, her amber eyes shrinking for a split second.
The boar’s momentum had been halted for a moment by the barrier, and that split-second delay caused it to miss its mark. It brushed past the archer’s shoulder, its tusks plowing a deep furrow into the tree trunk beside him, sending wood chips flying. The archer scrambled away, his leg wound trailing a streak of blood on the mud.
Lovell seized the opportunity to jump. Under the influence of Feather Fall, her body felt light, and she was carried upward as if lifted by a gust of wind. She had only intended to jump onto the boar’s back, but this jump sent her flying high into the air, almost level with the treetops at the edge of the clearing.
The wind rushed past her ears, whipping her red hair and the hem of her clothes. But Lovell didn't panic; her body reacted faster than her mind could.
She twisted her waist in mid-air and began to spin horizontally.
With a reverse grip in her left hand and a standard grip in her right, her two daggers extended from her sides like wings. The blades sliced across the boar’s spine, cutting through the surface bristles. Then, the daggers bit into the flesh, pulling down along the muscle fibers. Her body was almost pressed against the boar’s back as both daggers exerted force simultaneously. Using herself as an axis, she carved a spiral wound from the boar’s shoulder blades all the way to its tail.
The sound of blades tearing through flesh was dull and prolonged. Dark red blood geysered from the wound, arching through the air and splattering Lovell’s face and hair. The boar let out a scream more agonized than any before, its entire body arching as its four legs kicked frantically at the ground, but its spine had been largely severed; it could only use its front legs to drag its body forward.
Lovell spun for who knows how many rotations before landing. Blood dripped from the edges of her daggers. She knelt on one knee two steps behind the boar, her red hair matted messily against her face, her chest heaving. She was covered from head to toe in spots of dark red blood, as if she had just stepped out of a rain of blood.
“Whoa.” Margarita really hadn't expected Lovell to take the enemy down in one move.
By the way, it looks like there’s a Red Top to watch here, too.
The boar lay on the ground, the wound on its back looking as if it had been plowed from its shoulders to its tail, the flesh flayed open to reveal bone-white fragments. Its limbs were still twitching, but it could no longer stand.
The swordsman brothers walked up and delivered two final blows to the boar’s head, finishing it off. They looked back at the archer, who was sitting on the ground tying a cloth around his calf wound, his face pale but conscious.
“I won't die,” the archer waved them off. “What was that wall just now? The pink one that popped up out of nowhere.”
The stout woman shook her head. “No idea. Maybe a passing mage.”
Lovell stood up, wiped her daggers on her trousers a few times, and sheathed them. She looked down at her feet, then at her palms. The lingering effect of Feather Fall was still there; her landing just now felt as if someone had gently set her down.
“Reed, what were you doing jumping that high?!” the stout woman walked over. “You scared the life out of me.”
“I—It’s fine.” Lovell withdrew her gaze and shook the blood from her hair. “The wind was strong just now; I just caught a gust.”
“Caught a gust and jumped that high?” the archer hobbled over, looking incredulous. “You were spinning like a top just now; I couldn't even see how you came down.”
“If your eyes are that bad as an archer, then just keep your mouth shut,” Lovell said.
She looked back at the clearing once more. There was nothing on the ground, but the sudden lightness of her body and the pink barrier the archer described... In this city, she had only ever seen one mage with pale pink mana.
“Thank you, Little Mari,” she said softly.
Rate on N.U.
