As Hector rose with a murderous aura, Walter asked with a placid smile, "Is something the matter?"
His charisma was gentle, yet it carried an undeniable authority that commanded respect. Hector, who had staggered to his feet, muttered something under his breath about a Kizen professor. A storm of conflict raged in his eyes, but after a moment, his focus cleared.
"My sincerest apologies, Professor." Hector backed down.
’...Just as I thought,’ Simon noted with internal relief. ’I knew he’d react this way.’ Hector was known among students for his reckless temper, but he was always impeccably polite to faculty and other adults, which had earned him a surprisingly good reputation. He was smarter than he let on.
"I’m not a Kizen professor yet," Walter said, scratching the side of his head in a show of modesty.
"The Moore family will take full responsibility for the damages," Hector declared. "If you wish to punish me when we return to Kizen, I will gladly accept it." With a final bow, he turned and trudged away.
Simon quietly watched him go. The crucial difference between Hector and hot-headed students like Malcolm or Prince Andre was that Hector knew when to fold.
Seeing the fight was over, the crowd quickly dispersed. Walter and Kamibarez were already chatting animatedly.
’?’
A glint of gold on the ground caught Simon’s eye. He bent down and picked up an expensive-looking fountain pen.
’How do you read this?’ An elegant cursive script was engraved on its side. ’...Judah? It looks like a name. Whose is it?’
At that moment, the hair on Simon’s arms stood on end. He snapped his head up.
’!’
Walter, who had been so warm and friendly just a second ago, was now glaring at him with the cold, murderous eyes of a monster. Startled, Simon blinked, and in that instant, the man’s gentle smile was back in place.
"Ah, thank you. I must have dropped it," Walter said, holding out his hand.
Simon bowed respectfully and returned the pen. As Walter took it, he asked in a low voice, "Did you see?"
...’What did he mean? The name Judah? Or those terrifying eyes?’
Simon chose his words carefully. "This pen must have been a gift, Professor."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because it’s engraved with the name ‘Judah.’ I’ve heard it’s customary to have one’s own name engraved on a luxury pen like this." Simon watched Walter’s reaction, but the man’s pleasant smile never wavered.
"It was a memento from someone who passed away," Walter explained. "I inherited it."
"Ah, I see. My apologies."
After tucking the pen into his inner suit pocket, Walter extended his hand. "Student, what was your name again?"
Simon took his hand. "Simon Polentia."
"You’re a bright young man," Walter said, his smile unwavering. "I look forward to having you in my class."
The two shook hands, Kamibarez beaming proudly at the sight.
"Professor! Simon is in my group!"
"Ah, yes. The anonymous young man you were always talking about, correct?"
"Professor!" Kamibarez blushed.
Walter’s gaze returned to Simon. "I’ve heard a great deal about you from Professor Silage. I’ve been given all the research on your SM-1 blood, so you’ll be able to participate fully in Hemomancy classes starting this semester."
"I’m looking forward to it," Simon replied, nodding. More importantly...
’When is he going to let go of my hand?’
The handshake was over, but Walter’s grip remained firm. Deciding a direct approach was too rude, Simon released his hand with a sudden burst of strength, then immediately bent down as if to tie his shoe.
"My apologies for my clumsiness, Professor..."
"Hm? Oh, your shoelace was untied. It’s quite all right, especially after such a fierce battle."
Kamibarez glanced nervously at Walter. "Professor! Simon wasn’t trying to fight, he was just—!"
"Don’t worry," Walter cut in smoothly. "I have no intention of issuing demerits for something that happened before I was officially a professor." He then turned and offered his hand to Kamibarez. "More importantly, do you have a place to stay? You’re welcome at our lodging. I’d like to continue our discussion about the Ursula bloodline."
At his words, Kamibarez gently tugged on Simon’s sleeve. "Thank you for the offer, but I’m fine! I’m staying with my group members."
"Oh, I see." Walter lowered his hand, a flicker of disappointment in his smile. "Well then, I’ll see you both at Kizen. This city has been rather restless lately, so do take care."
"Yes! See you at Kizen!"
"Take care, Professor."
Walter waved and turned to leave. As he walked away, Simon, who had kept his head bowed, discreetly raised his eyes to watch him go. That was the man who would be replacing Professor Silage.
’...Judah. Why do I feel like I’ve seen that name recently?’
"What’s wrong, Simon?" Kamibarez asked.
"Ah, nothing. Just thinking. Meirin must be waiting. Let’s go get that quill."
"Okay!"
After buying the pen and picking up lunch, they returned to their lodging at the clock tower.
"Meirin! Dick! We’re back!" Kamibarez called out, trotting into the living room with a shopping basket. The apartment was empty. "Huh? Where did they go?"
"What is it?" Simon asked, slipping off his shoes.
"I can’t find Meirin or Dick."
Simon put the groceries in the kitchen and checked the bathroom, but they weren’t there either.
"Maybe they went out for a bit while doing their homework?" Kamibarez wondered aloud.
"Looks like it." Exhausted from his fight with Hector, Simon collapsed onto the plush sofa. He could finally breathe.
"No, I’ll help." Simon pushed himself up from the sofa. "..."
As he stood, his gaze fell to the floor, and his expression sharpened. Frowning, he knelt and slowly swept his hand across the wooden planks.
’Dirt, and the traces of footprints.’
They were supposed to wear slippers inside, but there was dirt on the floor. He began to inspect the area more closely. He could see faint marks where someone had hastily tried to wipe the prints away but hadn’t had time to finish the job. Why would Meirin and Dick need to erase footprints? Besides, they had been in slippers all morning.
"..."
He followed the faint traces to the terrace. Stepping outside, he scanned the area. The dust on one section of the railing had been wiped clean, leaving a distinct mark, as if a rope had been slung over it.
"Simon?" Kamibarez followed him out, a worried look on her face. "You look so serious. What’s wrong?"
"I think," Simon said, turning to her with a hardened expression, "we had an intruder."
Dim lighting. Damp air. The smell of mildew.
Meirin let out a long sigh. ’...Haaah.’
She was a prisoner. Her arms were bound to a metal chair behind her back, her legs tied fast with rope. It was an all-too-familiar feeling, a grim echo of her time in Deathland. The anger she had been suppressing began to bubble to the surface.
"This is so damn annoying!" she yelled.
The men standing guard around her flinched. She ignored them, grinding her teeth in frustration.
’I totally could have taken them all on by myself!’ After Simon and Kamibarez had left, she had been nagging Dick about his vacation homework. He had been studying on the terrace when she suddenly heard him cry out. By the time she rushed outside, it was too late. A group of brawny men had already scaled the tower with ropes.
Dick was on the ground, rolling in agony despite his Kizen uniform.
A fight had broken out. Meirin had gone on a rampage, single-handedly taking down eight of the intruders. But her victory was cut short when they stripped Dick of his uniform and held a blade to his throat. She had had no choice but to surrender. Now, she was here, in this godforsaken place.
’If it weren’t for that idiot!’
Her gaze fell to the floor where Dick was writhing like a caterpillar, also bound by ropes. He had been hit with some kind of poison and was deliriously spouting nonsense. It was pathetic.
"Rest assured. It is a nerve-disrupting poison. He will recover without side effects in an hour or two, I say."
The accent was slightly awkward. Meirin looked up as a man emerged from the shadows. It was the one who had subdued Dick.
"Who are you people!" she shouted. "How dare you kidnap Kizen students? Did you crawl out from some backwater village? Or did you all take arrows to the head?"
A few of the men bristled, but their leader held up a hand to silence them. Like the others, he was shirtless, his skin covered in strange painted patterns. But his frame was monstrously large, the designs on his body more elaborate, and he wore the entire hide of a lion over his head. He was clearly the one in charge.
"My name is Wichasha Wahamrata. We are the Hupa tribe."
"I don’t care if you’re the Hupa tribe or the Lunga tribe! Untie me!"
"I am sorry, but I cannot grant that request, I say," Wichasha replied, his eyes impassive. "Prepare."
At his command, several men emerged from the darkness carrying strange objects. Wichasha himself took a piece of red cloth and looked down at Meirin.
"This won’t take long." He held the cloth and reached for her head.
Meirin squeezed her eyes shut. ’...Please, hurry up and get here, Simon!’
Simon and Kamibarez raced through the streets, panting for breath. They had gotten a tip from travelers near the clock tower: a group of large, robed men had been seen leaving the building. Dick and Meirin must have been taken by them.
"What in the world is happening?" Kamibarez asked, her voice choked with tears. "Why would they take Dick and Meirin?"
"I have no idea." There were no clues, only endless possibilities.
’What did I miss?’ Simon forced himself to organize the information he had calmly. First, the kidnappers had broken the unwritten rule of the Dark Alliance: you don’t touch Kizen students. That made it highly likely they were outsiders, not local gangsters. As much as he hated to consider it, he couldn’t rule out fanatical Priests. Then there was the other crucial piece of information.
’Be careful of men with strange patterns painted on their bodies.’
Kajan’s warning echoed in his mind. Kajan wasn’t one to speak idly. Why had he warned them about those men? Could they be the ones from the clock tower?
Just as he connected the dots, Kamibarez gasped. "M-Maybe...!" Her lips trembled as she offered a new possibility. "Could it be related to the murderer from the newspaper? The one causing such a stir in Langerstine?"
"...I don’t know." He couldn’t be sure, but that theory felt off. Simon opened his Subspace and pulled out the newspaper he had bought. The crime scene photo was stark: a shattered wall, a body sprawled in the middle of the street with its arms spread wide. It looked almost impulsive, with no effort made to hide the evidence.
But the men who took Dick and Meirin had been methodical. They had gone to the trouble of scaling the clock tower and had even tried to erase their tracks. The two incidents didn’t seem to fit.
’Ah!’
As Simon stared at the photo, his eyes widened. Looking closer, he could see a messy pattern painted on the victim’s stomach.
’Don’t tell me!’
He stopped in his tracks. "Simon?"
"Just a moment, Kami."
He ducked into a nearby shop and bought every local paper from the past few days. Each one featured the mysterious murder scene on its front page.
’My guess was right.’ Though the sizes and colors varied, every victim had that same strange pattern painted on their body. The killer wasn’t a madman striking at random.
’He was only killing the men with those patterns.’
Kajan hadn’t warned him about a random murderer; he had specifically warned him about the men with the patterns. This made it almost certain that they were the ones who had taken Dick and Meirin. But who were they? Why were they being targeted? And most importantly, why had they kidnapped his friends? What was their goal?
’Should I try to find Kajan first?’
No, finding him in this sprawling city would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Besides, Kajan was probably already tracking these men himself. There was no point wasting time looking for him.
’Alright, so what’s the best course of action?’ Simon’s mind raced.

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