Editor 135

Place of Friendship (3)

Feeling like he was the only one who didn’t understand what was going on, Cleio quietly asked Isiel, who was a seat away.

“Gilad Eclipse?”

“…Last year, he was the student who left that strange magical formula in a remote corner—the one I wrongly suspected was your doing, Cleio. I’m sorry for accusing you so abruptly back then.”

Isiel’s earlobes turned faintly red. He seemed to regret having pressured Cleio, thinking he was up to some scheme. Cleio also felt a bit guilty, so he quickly smoothed things over.

“It’s fine. It was a situation where you could easily misunderstand, and it’s in the past now.”

As if he’d lost his appetite from what he’d just heard, a fourth-year student put down his fork, pulled back his robe, and stood up to approach Mark.

“Did Gilad try summoning again?”

“Yeah. Summoning attempt, fourth time, ignored warnings about illegal experiments!”

“Didn’t he get banned from going out at night and have to write a letter of reflection last year after all that?”

“If he was the type to stop after writing a letter of reflection, he wouldn’t have started in the first place.”

“So, did he manage to summon anything this time?”

More and more students joined the conversation. Seeing the wands in their pockets and the robes, they seemed to be from the magic track too.

“Of course not. If he had, would it be this quiet?”

“Right. If he were a genius who could rediscover lost summoning magic, would he be taking extra exams every year with me?”

“I wrote a report on that last semester—summoning magic can’t be reproduced because two formulas are missing. People can’t create magic formulas in the first place, so why does he keep doing things he’s told not to, with nothing to show for it?”

Listening to the fourth-years’ conversation, Cleio flinched inwardly.

It was possible for a person to create a magical formula.

Cleio himself was the one who created the Ether “Permanent Activation” formula.

‘Ugh, if the crown prince hadn’t kept things under wraps to have it all for himself, the world would have gotten pretty noisy. Should I be thankful for that?’

The matter of the Tiflaum Ether Permanent Activation formula was top secret, so the students didn’t know about it.

Feeling guilty, Cleio spilled a little wine as he poured his third glass. Rifi immediately took the wine bottle away from him.

“Ray, are you shaking because you’re already drunk?”

“I think I should stop drinking for today.”

“No, it’s just… Hey, give it back, guys.”

“Nope.”

“Rifi, pour me a glass, too.”

“Okay, Leticia!”

Now that they were fourteen and of legal drinking age, the twins poured the wine they’d taken from Cleio evenly into their own empty glasses.

Meanwhile, Mark and the fourth-years’ heated conversation continued.

“But if he’s expelled, he’s expelled. Why are you making such a fuss, Mark?”

“Listen, expulsion isn’t the end. These days, the Gate of Mnemosyne is active and there are monster sightings. They can’t just handle it with school discipline anymore. Now, to investigate connections, every third- and fourth-year who took classes with him is being interrogated. Summoned to the Capital Defense Magic Corps!”

“Damn, that’s crazy. Since when?”

Pleased with all the attention, Mark looked around the dining hall. Then, with a theatrical gesture, he took out his pocket watch, flipped open the lid, and answered with a beat’s delay.

“Starting today at 8 PM until the end of questioning, continuously.”

“Hey, how can you say the most important thing last!”

“We’re screwed!”

“Then what about the night shift for the Gate of Mnemosyne? I’m on duty tonight!”

Last year, the Capital Defense Corps had stationed permanent personnel at the gate, but after the monster rampage, they pulled out the knights and magicians due to manpower shortages.

Since then, upperclassmen from the Capital Defense School had been reactivating the internal barrier around the Gate of Mnemosyne and standing guard.

“The top students in second-year magic and swordsmanship will take tonight’s shift instead. The dean will probably call you soon.”

Arthur and Cleio looked at each other at the same time.

It was a bolt from the blue.

---

Mark was right.

Summoned by Zebedi, Arthur and Cleio were ordered to guard the Gate of Mnemosyne for the night.

The boy magician and the knight-in-training took over from the two upperclassmen who had been on duty from noon to 8 PM, and stood before the Gate of Mnemosyne.

The upperclassmen, grumbling that they couldn’t even rest and had to go to the Capital Defense Corps, cursed the student named Gilad, who was the cause of it all.

And then it was just the two of them.

The forest at the center of the school was as tranquil as ever, just like before the gate had opened.

Of course, some things were different from a year ago.

The troublemaker and the illegitimate entrant had both become top students in the sword and magic tracks.

Also, the ever-glowing barrier stones were now free of moss and dust, making the faint yellow of the andradite crystals in the marble stand out.

Now that he saw it, the magic stones looked quite valuable.

‘At first, I didn’t know anything and just leaned here and drank.’

The only light source was the gas lamp Arthur held, but the area around the inner barrier was warmly lit, thanks to the barrier’s glow.

The inner barrier surrounding the “Gate” wasn’t large, so Cleio had no trouble reactivating it alone.

One magical formula—[Conduction]—was enough.

He remembered how Ezra, when reactivating the school’s outer barrier before, had mixed in a [Haste] formula and almost burned through a magic stone the size of a lifetime’s salary.

‘A lot happened last year.’

Ezra, who had played a huge role during the recent monster incident, had become quite famous.

According to Dione, though, it was really just that he liked seeing monsters and volunteered for extra shifts.

Because of that, letters in childlike handwriting from Ezra piled up, but Cleio found it hard to visit the Capital Defense Corps research lab at the moment.

Even aside from that, Cleio had a lot to do.

‘Every day is busy enough just dealing with the things I’ve started. And yet I was lying around having existential worries. Honestly.’

With a sound body, delicious meals and drinks every day, and chores handled by others, his mind had become lax.

Once he decided to focus on what was in front of him, he felt much more at ease.

Whether it was the warm weather or Arthur’s relaxed voice beside him, the sense of helplessness he’d felt before was gone.

“It’s gotten warmer in April. If it were cold, you’d be grumbling nonstop while on duty again, wouldn’t you?”

Unlike Cleio, who had his summer garden cape coat buttoned up tight, Arthur was already just in a shirt—an outright delinquent look.

“If the temperature had dropped below zero, I’d have used my research apprentice privilege to get out of this shift. I had enough of winter in Tristain’s territory. I don’t need to see snow for another three years.”

“Trying to pull tricks before showing any research results? Wow! I’m disappointed in you, man.”

“So what if you’re disappointed?”

Cleio, making a grumpy face as if everything was a bother, was just the Cleio Arthur knew.

To Arthur, this was the best kind of Cleio.

Much better than when his soft, vulnerable side was exposed and Arthur couldn’t do anything to help.

“It’s not like I’m going to do anything. Still, once the sun sets, the air gets chilly. A drink to warm up would be nice.”

Arthur mimed raising and snapping a glass in midair. He did it so well, Cleio could almost see the glass even though Arthur’s hand was empty.

Cleio’s keen sense for alcohol lit up.

‘This calls for spirits.’

“Hurry up and open it.”

It was getting close to midnight. They’d had a solid dinner, so they weren’t hungry, but with alcohol it was a different story.

The two boys sat down right in front of the barrier stone.

Giggling, Arthur took out a package wrapped in paper from the cloth bag he’d been carrying. Judging by the smell and shape, it was alcohol and snacks.

Arthur tilted the brown paper bag towards Cleio. The light from the barrier stone shone on the clear glass bottle inside, making it glimmer.

“Tada. Remember this?”

“I drank it just a month ago. How could I forget?”

It was a small bottle, maybe 300ml, but the simple label design was familiar.

Three Lakes. It was the famous vodka from Tristain’s territory.

And when they unwrapped another layer of brown paper, out came snowy white salo.

Salo was pork fat cured in garlic and salt—a salted meat that paired perfectly with vodka.

“Where’d you get this?”

“I have my ways.”

Arthur, skilled with his hands, sliced the fat thinly with a dagger. The trick was to infuse the blade with aura for the task.

Cleio was honestly impressed.

“That’s amazing. I didn’t know you could use aura like that.”

“Hardly any grease gets on the knife, too.”

It was such a novel way to waste ether that Cleio was speechless, but the result was satisfying.

‘If you’re going to waste it, you might as well do it right.’

While Arthur cut the snacks, Cleio quickly cast a [Chill] spell on the vodka bottle. Lowering the temperature just enough not to break the glass required some tricky ether control.

But the result was worth it.

Downing a shot of ice-cold vodka and biting into the salted fat, the savory grease melted at body temperature, and the combination was indescribably exquisite.

“Kya.”

“Kyaaa.”

Arthur and Cleio, partners in crime, had known from the moment they broke the bottle’s seal. No words were needed; they were on the same wavelength.

“One glass, my ass.”

If you don’t open it, it’s fine, but once you do, you drink to the end—that’s alcohol.

After quietly emptying their glasses for a while, Cleio divided the last bit of vodka between Arthur and himself and then realized the problem.

“Ah, we’re still going to reek of booze and garlic even at dawn.”

“Use a [Cleanse] spell.”

“You can’t hide the smell coming up from inside. Behemoth’s going to throw a fit. This time he might tear up the mattress instead of the carpet.”

Cleio had completely forgotten Behemoth’s tantrum—how he’d rolled on the floor and scratched up the carpet, demanding why Cleio hadn’t brought back a Three Lakes bottle from Tristain.

After draining the last glass, Arthur popped one of the two remaining pieces of salo into his mouth and sucked his fingers, grumbling.

“That thing’s a cat that drinks booze, has the strength of a human, and claws like a monster’s forepaw.”

“Why are you dissing my cat? He bullies you because you let him. If you’re upset, sort out the pecking order again.”

“Ack! That’s so annoying. Are you saying the cat thinks he outranks me?”

“Anyone can see Behemoth has a higher rank than you.”

“In what way?”

“His belly fat… that’s what you call popularity.”

Thinking of Behemoth’s soft, warm belly, Cleio finished his last drink. Just thinking about it made him feel content.

“I’ve never heard anything like that before. By that standard, Ray, you’re a total petty man, aren’t you?”

“I’ve always been petty.”

Having downed strong liquor quickly, the two, now tipsy, traded silly banter. Their conversation, jumping randomly with no context, was a classic example of a rambling drinking session.

At last, Arthur pouted and pointed to his right cheek.

“Changing the subject! I was really serious that day when I couldn’t sleep. He sharpened his claws and smacked me!”

“And I treated you for it. Stop whining. You’re eighteen and still trying to challenge a cat as an equal?”

That day’s man-to-cat battle on the floor ended in Behemoth’s victory. Cleio had to treat the three scratch marks on Arthur’s cheek.

“He’s got such a bad temper. Doesn’t that beast ever scratch you? Even a pet can be dangerous if it bites you wrong.”

“Behemoth’s never bitten me. He knows who feeds him. He’s a very wise cat.”

“Wow, damn.”

Of course, in reality, he was just the great cat’s humble food and drink servant, but Cleio didn’t bother to lower himself further.

Wrapping the empty bottle in the paper bag and stashing it in the backpack Arthur had brought, he hid the glasses in the same bag.

With the evidence gone, only the lingering buzz remained, so Arthur kept rambling nonsense.

“But are you really never going to tell me what happened with Archbishop Historia?”

Arthur’s cheekbones were flushed from the alcohol, but Cleio wasn’t even tipsy from this much.

He answered firmly and completely sober.

“Yeah.”