Simon finally had a moment to himself. His events for the day were over, and the Summoning Department's first-place position was secure. On the first day, he had been on edge with worry, but now, he felt more at ease. He decided to use the free time to patrol the festival grounds.
'There are so many people.'
During the Dark Festival, the entire Roc Island was teeming with life. Stalls lined every path, and visitors laughed and chatted cheerfully about the events.
"Mom! 'Balak' is going to be at Woodville Stadium!" a child exclaimed.
"Should we go see?" his mother replied.
Simon's ears perked up. He considered watching a match featuring Balak, the strongest student in Kizen in Aizel's absence, but his duty to the student council came first.
"You're the Kizen Student Council President, right?"
"We enjoyed watching your event!"
As he walked, people started recognizing him even without his student council coat, calling out words of encouragement. It seemed to be a part of the festival's culture to support any student in a Kizen uniform. One stall owner even offered him food for free. As a member of the student council, Simon politely refused several times before finally paying for an ice cream.
The rumble of carriage wheels echoed down the road next to the promenade. As dust kicked up, Simon quickly turned his back to the road to shield his ice cream.
"Please hurry!" a young man called to his driver.
"We're going to be late for Chatel's match!" his wife added.
Everyone was passionately enjoying the festival. Feeling a sense of pride in having contributed, however slightly, to it all, Simon continued his walk.
Eating his ice cream, he soon arrived at the 'Stall Plaza' in the center of Roc Island. It was the area with the highest concentration of stalls and a favorite haunt for first-years after their classes. It seemed a list of must-try places was already circulating among them.
"Try our crispy fried shrimp!" a vendor called out.
"Thank you, customer!"
It was lunchtime, and the plaza was packed. Simon paused, watching the Kizen students eating with their families.
'My parents said they couldn't come because they're busy with their duties as lords.'
It was a bit disappointing, but even if they had visited, his student council duties would have left him little time to spend with them. He continued his patrol.
"Hey! My bestie!"
He ran right into Dick, who was sitting at a restaurant table and waving energetically. Across from him sat two freckled boys who looked just like him.
"Hello, Simon!" they chorused.
They were Dick's younger twin brothers, Bill and Al Hayward.
"Wow! It's been a while, you two. How have you been?" Simon asked, happy to see his best friend's brothers. He decided to take a moment to chat.
Bill and Al chattered away about the events they had seen that morning, while Dick, with his nose in the air, started bragging.
"This was all your big brother's doing! There isn't a single stall here I didn't have a hand in."
Bill and Al snorted, then looked to Simon for confirmation. Simon nodded with a smile.
"It's true. Without Dick, the Dark Festival wouldn't have even started."
"You hear that?" Dick preened.
'Ooooh.'
Bill and Al whistled, looking at their older brother with newfound respect.
"Honestly, we didn't believe Dick was the student council treasurer until we got to Roc Island!"
"We were like, how can someone ranked 400th get into the student council!"
"Hahahahaha!"
The twins burst out laughing. Dick's lips twitched, but he shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "You guys would have a hard time even getting into Kizen. You'd last a month before you were crying your eyes out, begging to go home! It's obvious."
Bill and Al ignored their brother's blustering and turned to Simon.
"Oh, Simon!"
"We opened our cores!"
Simon's eyes widened. "R-really?"
The twins simultaneously held out their palms. After a moment of intense concentration, a small black droplet formed beneath each of their hands. It was genuine Jet-Black.
Simon let out a disbelieving laugh and looked at Dick. "What happened? Did your father give you permission to become necromancers?"
Dick shook his head. "Nah, no way. Dad plans to lock them in the warehouse for the rest of their lives and raise them as keepers. But they kept begging to enroll in Kizen next year, so I dipped into my investment funds and paid for their core opening."
Simon looked at Dick, genuinely moved. "You really stepped up as a big brother."
He knew the cost of opening a core was substantial. Life at Kizen was also expensive, so giving such a large sum to his brothers couldn't have been an easy decision. Simon lowered his voice slightly.
"But are you sure it's okay? Shouldn't you at least talk to your father?"
"I made a promise with them," Dick said with a smirk. "The condition is that they take the Kizen entrance exam next year. If they don't make it, they take over the family business. If they get in, Dad won't be able to object."
That was true. Admission to Kizen was a major event, enough for even high-ranking nobles to throw a celebration. No father would tell their child to continue working as a merchant after that.
Dick added quietly, "...They're so happy. It's their one and only life. It would be too cruel to make them give up on their dream without even trying."
Simon patted Dick's shoulder. "You're a really great guy."
"Heh, you're only just realizing that now?" Dick chuckled, looking at his brothers, who were still trying to squeeze out more Jet-Black. "But you two, if you fail the Kizen exam, that's it, you hear? The three great necromancer schools below it—Aland, Cieran, Moiran—this brother doesn't deal with places like that."
"Wow, Elitism!" the twins shot back.
As Simon was enjoying his time with the close-knit Hayward brothers, a plump middle-aged woman came waddling over.
"E-excuse me, student! Th-that armband! Are you perhaps...!"
Simon stood. "I'm from the student council, ma'am. Is something wrong?"
"My wallet! He took my wallet! That person over there!"
A pickpocket. Simon's expression hardened. "Bill, Al. I have to go. Have fun and get back safely."
Dick also stood. "Wait! I'll—!"
"Stay with your brothers, Dick," Simon said with a grin and a wave. "It's family time."
Dick smacked his lips awkwardly and sat back down. "Yeah, thanks."
"See you at the student council room tonight."
After parting with the Haywards, Simon ran alongside the woman. "What did the pickpocket look like?"
"Blue clothes! Blue clothes and a hood!"
Without hesitation, Simon channeled Jet-Black into his legs, then skillfully ran up the side of a stall and leaped into the air.
'Found him.'
From above, he spotted a man in blue clothes and a hood running frantically. With a flick of his fingers, skeleton bones flew out and clad the man in Bone Armor.
"Wh-what is this!" the pickpocket yelped.
His own momentum turned him around, sending him running back towards Simon and the woman. A group of men drinking beer at a nearby table burst into hearty laughter.
"I'll be taking this back," Simon said, retrieving the wallet. He returned it to the woman and handed the pickpocket over to the nearby enforcers, earning a small round of applause from the onlookers.
'I should focus my patrol here.'
With so many people, incidents were inevitable: arguments with stall owners, fights between students from rival departments, even a case where skeletons used as servers went out of control.
As Simon was busy resolving these issues, he heard familiar voices.
"Hey, that's Senior Simon, right?"
"Student Council President! Over here!"
This time, he ran into his first-year juniors from the Mutants club, who were eating nearby: Sasha, Princess Molly, and Arthur.
"Simon! When's your next match?" Sasha called out.
"Sasha! I told you not to address the Student Council President so rudely!" Molly scolded.
"Ahaha! Senior Simon! It's been a while!" Arthur added cheerfully.
It was chaos with the first-years chattering away. Simon smiled and approached them.
"Hello, everyone. Having fun?"
"Yeeees—!" they answered energetically.
Simon scratched the side of his head. "I feel a bit bad. The rules barred first-years from participating in the events."
The Dark Festival was an inter-departmental competition. First-years, who didn't have a department yet, naturally couldn't participate and had to attend their regular classes.
"Don't say that," Princess Molly said, brushing back her long hair with a smile. "It only happens once every five years, so some graduating classes don't get to see it at all. I think our class is lucky."
"That's right!"
"The events are so much fun! Student Council President, thank you for creating such a wonderful festival!"
At that, Simon waved his hands in embarrassment. "N-no! What do you mean, created? I didn't do much."
"Didn't the Student Council President do all of this?" one of them asked.
To his juniors, Simon was just that amazing.
"And you all," Simon said, checking the clock on a nearby stall wall. "Aren't you cutting it close for your next class?"
The first-years all flinched and averted their gazes. Busted.
"I'll clean up here. You should run."
"S-sorry!"
"Excuse us!"
Sensing the urgency, the first-years scrambled to get ready. As Simon was cleaning up, he lifted a bag left on a chair.
"Arthur! Your bag!" he called out.
Arthur, who was already far ahead with his transcendent physical ability, returned at an incredible speed and stood before Simon.
"Thank you! Hahaha! That was a close call!"
"Get a grip," Simon said, smiling as he flicked Arthur's forehead. "Try to be less clumsy."
"Yes! My apologies!"
"And don't just run off on your own. Take care of your classmates. You're the only guy here, right?"
"Ah! You're right. I'll keep that in mind! Hahaha!"
Sasha, who was putting her things into her subspace, smirked. "Trying to teach that clueless idiot king the manners of a gentleman? Good luck with that."
"It's Mercenary King, not Idiot King!" Arthur retorted.
As Simon was smiling fondly at their bickering, a sudden, horrifying chill ran down his spine.
'What... was that?'
It felt like all the blood in his body had turned to ice. His heart pounded, and a cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
A dreadful presence slithered past him.
Something dreadful was passing by right behind him.
'Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look back.'
Every cell in his body screamed a warning. Red lights flashed and alarm bells rang. Simon's world turned crimson. If he turned around, he knew that not only himself, but the first-years, the Hayward brothers, and everyone else nearby would be caught in whatever it was.
His eyes became bloodshot, veins popping on the back of his hand. He calmly summoned his Jet-Black, spreading it throughout his body.
'I can't avoid it. I have to look.'
Fully prepared, Simon forced his head to turn, the motion feeling unnaturally slow and stiff, and finally looked behind him.
But there was nothing.
'Murmur, murmur, murmur.'
Time, which had slowed to a crawl, returned to normal. All he could see was the endless stream of the crowd. He rushed forward, looking around frantically, but 'it' had already vanished, swallowed by the masses.
"Simon?" Sasha asked, tilting her head. "Is something wrong?"
"Ah, no. It's nothing," he said, breaking out in a cold sweat. "You'll be late. You should hurry back to class."
"Okay."
As Sasha left, Simon urgently tapped Pier's clone.
'Pier! Pier! Did you feel anything?'
A moment later, Pier's voice came through.
[What is it, boy!]
'There was this... strange thing...!'
He was so shaken that his thoughts were a jumble. He tried to explain, but Pier said he hadn't felt anything suspicious at all.
'What was that?'
Simon walked quickly, following the flow of the crowd. 'Did I imagine it? How could something like that pass by so nonchalantly in a place this crowded? What did I feel? And... what is happening at the Dark Festival right now?'
Heightening all his senses, he broke into a run.
'I'm not too late.'
He ran in the direction it had gone. It was less of a pursuit and more of a gut feeling, but he couldn't stop. He had to move.
Simon finally stopped running and looked at the area behind the street stalls. This deserted place was cluttered with cooking utensils and boxes of ingredients. He strode into it.
At that moment, his heightened senses detected a hand approaching from behind. He reflexively reached out, grabbing the wrist and pulling it down, then lunged at his opponent and threw a punch.
'Hongfeng Original – Chwita'
But something sharp came up, deflecting the punch and breaking his technique.
'Strong.' Simon quickly changed his stance to deliver a kick, but his opponent slammed their leg into his, breaking his motion, and closed the distance.
"Calm down, Simon."
Their fists stopped just inches from each other's faces. Breathing heavily, Simon finally recognized his opponent. Faded gray hair, fierce eyes, a sharp jawline, and a long scar across his right eye.
"I was looking for you," the man said.
Finally lowering his hand, a deep sense of relief washed over Simon's face. It was his roommate from his first year, who used to disappear every night—a spy and agent enrolled in Kizen under direct orders from Nephthys.
"Kajan!"
It was Kajan Edvalt, his most reliable collaborator. He habitually scratched the scar by his eye and said in a heavy voice, "I hope you've had enough fun at the festival. We have a case."

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