“’The Butcher’, ‘Spine Crusher’, ‘Bloody Fangs’.”
“Wow.”
Certainly, they sounded impressive, but more like aliases for a criminal than names for pets. As I stared at her disbelief, Kelly earnestly explained. She said that if you had a vault of the finest magic stones and a guard to protect them, which one would be easier to steal, the one with the gatekeeper’s name being ‘Sweetheart’ or ‘Bloody fangs’?
It made sense as I continued listening. Just as Professor Stafford was working to the left of the table where we sat, untangling Rosemary Blossom’s Torus from Mikaela Maynard’s hair, I asked Kelly to repeat what she had just said a little louder.
Kelly repeated the same words like a parrot until Professor Stafford finally came over to our table and said, ‘That’s a great idea.’ As she left to inspect the Torus of the Illestia students, who were limp because they had overlooked the difference between mana and divine power, two palms clashed cheerfully.
“If you win the prize, share it.”
“Of course. Our girl salon members decided to share all the glory and hardship.”
I shrugged my shoulders in excitement and then suddenly became quiet. I immediately remembered the trouble that had befallen Anais O’Brien this morning.
Upon hearing the news of her absence from Ancient Magic and Mythology class, we visited her room. Anais was sobbing every minute she wasn’t talking.
I honestly never dreamed that Anais would confide in us about boys. Even if we became close, I didn’t think the level of trust would be enough for that.
But Anais clung to Bree’s waist before she could even step on the threshold of her room. I heard that Jacqueline Faulkner had just reported the series of events to Duke O’Brien.
‘What should I do?’ Anais murmured.
“My father will have me thrown into Heathrond Monastery at once.”
Her complexion was pale. She looked at Brianna as if seeking some answer.
“Jackie… did Jackie really do that? Reported, everything?”
“Oh, Miss Ana.”
Bree had a nasty habit of being sarcastic with anyone when she was in a bad mood.
“If it were me, I would have made up words that weren’t there to impress Duke O’Brien.”
Brianna Mosley, who’s formerly from the lower nobility, worked as a handmaid until she gained an oddly wealthy father and entered the academy. So she knew where the loyalty of servants was.
I hoped that Faulkner’s ambition for success would not reach the level common among lower nobles. I also tried to stop the flying squirrels from sending letters to the post offices in southern Milua, eastern Nadon, and western Illestia.
A desperate attempt left only a miserable failure. James Pennington, a fifth-year student who just happened to stop by the flying squirrel farm, was sacrificed to have his throat stuffed with sardines (after Edwards’ vicious reports, I decided to reap the dignity of being nicknamed the “Sardine Witch” to the fullest).
Having told her about that, Kelly became very serious. She began devising ways to skip her next class, Monster Biology, within the bounds of not going against the school rules. It was to check the condition of Anais, who was weakened like my Torus.
So, while the others were nervously trying to accommodate Torus’ preferences, Kelly learned how to say the line ‘It’s about to come out’ convincingly. It was important for her to instill a sense of vague fear by not specifically mentioning what, where, and how. It was a method I often used, and it worked very well on Professor Monaghan, who is an expert in monster physiology but stupid when it comes to human physiology.
***
The third floor of the annex building, where the newspaper office was located, was filled with angry students. Everyone was shouting something, some seemed to be protesting about the article attacking Anais. After a moment of dazedness at the strange sight, Glenn Chavez appeared and began to organize the line.
“Complaints about O’Brien on the left, everything else on the right!”
More than half of the students leaned against the left wall, forming a line. Truly, it could be said that it was the popularity of the Queen of Fitzsimmons. I stuck out my tongue and approached Chavez casually. When I whispered in his ear that I would expose the secrets of the student council, Chavez moved as if a fire had been set on his feet.
“Oh, Glenn. Dalton is a pathological liar.”
Edwards said this as soon as she saw my face as I appeared, guided by Chavez. She looked like she was dying of exhaustion. I couldn’t help but snort.
“Said the pathological liar.”
“Are you here to pick up a fight?”
Only then did Chavez realize that he had been tricked and glared at me until the very last moment as he walked out the door. I reciprocated his sincerity with something that Kyle often does to upset others – a mischievous wink.
“Did you decide to abandon the bizarre concept you showed me the other day? It was pretty entertaining actually.”
“You were the journalist Edwards back then. Now you’re Christa, a friend.”
Edwards, in my opinion, was neither a journalist nor a friend. I sat down at her needlessly huge desk. Her polished stone nameplate reached my thigh. I traced the letters engraved there with my fingertips. ‘Chief Reporter Christa Edwards’.
“I didn’t know you would adore Anais O’Brien like those idiots out there. I’m sorry, but you got the wrong person.”
Edwards said without even looking at me. Her gaze was fixed on the tip of her quill. At first glance, it was an article. It contained information that Kirkpatrick was welcoming a new mother who was good at fortune-telling.
Miss Proctor, Nadon’s spy, was not a fortune teller. She wouldn’t be able to predict even tomorrow’s dinner menu right away, so the information she had was close to the truth except for the slightest mistake. I admired Edwards’ resourcefulness a little.
“You’re telling me you didn’t do this?”
“You see that?”
Edwards pointed to a corner of the newspaper office with the tip of her quill. There, something like an iron paper machine was whirring. As I approached, I saw a basket full of neatly folded papers on top. I picked up one of them.
“What is this about?”
“Look closely. What day is it, and what’s on the front page?”
I grumbled but did as she said. As I unfolded the newspaper in my hand, my eyes were immediately drawn to it. The Fitzsimmons Times. It was published today, but with a completely different story than the one I read this morning.
On the front page of the newspaper, I couldn’t find the obscene phrases about Anais. Instead, a slightly less sordid account of the secret meeting between Professor Monaghan and Professor Stafford took its place.
I was so surprised that my jaw dropped. Kyle also mentioned their relationship, but I honestly didn’t believe it. If Christa Edwards was a pathological liar, Kyle Villard was a serial pleasure prankster. He loved every moment of me yelling, “Don’t say bullshit.”
“It says ‘Professor S,’ right, not ‘Pixie in Professor S’s greenhouse’ or ‘Professor S’s three-headed dog’?”
“Is that the problem now? Some bastard must have changed my newspaper, and it’s clear it was done to challenge the authority of the newspaper department.”
Edwards sharpened her gaze and gnashed her teeth. It seemed like she was very annoyed.
“Look, every night, I fill the automatic machinery with enough magical ink, paper, and articles. That way I can get five hundred copies of the amazing newspaper by morning. Only then can Glenn deliver the hot news to you guys.”
“It’s not amazing. Tarnishing someone’s reputation.”
“Don’t insult me, Dalton. I never crossed the line, at least not with this article.”
“Aha, the dirty words you used on me and Edgar were entirely within your ‘line’?”
“If you don’t know, the reason I wrote about you so much is because I believe in you.”
“What bullshit—?”
When asked frustratedly, Edwards shrugged. It was a shameless attitude.
“I judged that you would resolve it somehow, and I was right.”
“Re-solve?! Do you know what kind of trash that damn ‘interview’ turned Edgar into? Is that a ‘resolution’?”
“Let’s be honest, please. Edgar Ramos was garbage even before that ‘damn interview’.”
“No, you don’t know anything about him!”
“Why are you defending Ramos like that? Do you two really have something… going on?”
The light suddenly returned to Edwards’ eyes, which had been practically dead a moment ago. She said, “You two,” and snapped her thumb and forefinger together a few times. It was a sticky gesture. I didn’t want to cause any unnecessary misunderstandings, at least not to Christa Edwards, so I decided to change the subject.
“This argument doesn’t matter anyway. It has nothing to do with Anais.”
“It does. I said it before. I write provocative articles only for those who can handle it, which is, of course, impossible for Fitzsimmons’ Ice Queen.”
“You talk like you know Anais.”
At my sarcasm, Edwards curled her hands into fists and pressed them to her eyes, pretending to look through a telescope. The corners of her mouth curled up at an angle.
“I’m not close to her, but I can tell from a mile away that she’s as delicate as a Torus.”
I felt that there was no more information to be gleaned from Christa Edwards and that this conversation with her was eating away at my sanity. It was now becoming exhausting for me.
“Anyway, I did not write this article. Someone painted over the beautiful love story of ‘Professor S’ and ‘Professor M’ with messy delusions and made Glenn distribute it to the whole academy.”
Without replying, I grabbed the doorknob of the newspaper office. when I opened it slightly, the distant uproar in the hallway faintly flowed in. As I listened, I felt the urge to run to Anais. I wanted to let her know. The fact that so many people care about her.
“And if there’s one thing I won’t write about, it’s the story of a young woman whose life was ruined by an old man. I’m a journalist and entrepreneur, and I’ve done anything to sell my stories, but not this time. Trust me.”
Edwards said to the back of my head as I headed down the aisle. Perhaps it was due to the bitterness in her voice, but it was the most sincere-sounding bullshit she’d ever spouted.
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