Damn Academy chapter 227

227 – Black Footprints (2)

Beyond the walls, the gentle clamor of a banquet could already be heard.

It wasn’t too fussy, nor was it boisterous with the clinking of glasses and loud singing. It was a lively atmosphere that had ripened just right.

Cecil stops me as I start to head towards the main gate. Then, he rubs my cheeks with both hands.

“Are you still thinking about that letter?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s been on my mind a lot too, so I figured it must be on yours as well.”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“I’m just curious. Who is it? The way you’re so hung up on it, it’s like you’ve lost a family member… or an old lover you broke up with.”

“…I don’t know.”

“In novels, it’s always someone like you falling head over heels for a freckled, red-haired country girl with big boobs, and then you just up and leave with her without a word.”

“Someone like me?”

What on earth does he think of me to imagine something like that?

Cecil brings his face closer, scrutinizing my expression as if he’s trying to read my mind.

“Hmm, maybe not?”

“I would’ve been more comfortable if that was the case.”

It wasn’t like the answer would come to me by racking my brain here, but I couldn’t help but worry. An unknown existence was watching me from somewhere unreachable.

“Okay. Let’s stop here. Since we’ve arrived, promise me one thing. Think about the letter only until we enter the gate.”

I felt sorry for Cecil for no reason. This must have been a much-anticipated event for her. She would be disappointed if she couldn’t properly enjoy it because her mind was elsewhere.

“Okay.”

From Noble mtl dot com

“Think only of Cecil once you pass through the gate.”

“Let’s go.”

“Answer me. Answer me.”

Cecil’s nagging made me laugh a little without realizing it. It helped me regain my focus.

“Yes, I will.”

When we arrived at the gate, two heavily armored knights asked us for our invitations.

We showed them the invitations we had prepared and passed through without any problems.

The courtyard presented a completely different scene from a noble’s banquet.

Painters drawing portraits of young women. Musicians livening up the atmosphere. A short play. Even a dazzling display of fireworks using magic.

Some people were gathered with drinks in their hands, engaged in passionate discussions about art theory.

“Are there many other parties in Lygved? Is there a reason you chose this one?”

“This is the most stylish one. I also heard that the Demonology Contest gives extra points for good aesthetics, so I’m trying to learn a little.”

Then, a man with a goatee who looked to be in his thirties called out to us.

“Cecilia!”

He approached us with his arms wide open, his pronunciation slurred.

Cecil whispered in my ear.

“Oh, watch out for that guy.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t like women very much.”

“…But isn’t he greeting you?”

“No, it’s not that…”

“…?”

Cecil squeezed her eyes shut and said,

“Just pretend to be my lover. Play along with it as much as you can.”

“….”

The goatee came up to Cecil and asked to shake her hand. A round tunic that made his thin frame look fuller, bejeweled bracelets, and exotic eyes. Now that I looked closely, his eyebrows were heavily made up, and he even had earrings.

“Oh, Cecilia! The forbidden gem of Eternia. The woman of July!”

Cecil said with a half-forced smile,

“As I’ve said before, it’s Cecil. Cecil.”

He looked at my face and exclaimed silently with just the shape of his mouth.

“It’s a pleasure to meet such a dazzling young man here as well. Your name?”

“Demian.”

“Hm, Burdis Yulave.”

His eyes, fixed on me, seemed to be sparking.

“Yes?”

“A sunflower that has grown by eating starlight. That’s what you are. Voila! Cecilia! Where have you been! You little minx.”

Cecil corrected him again.

“Cecil, Cecil.”

“Oh, pardon me. But Cecilia rolls off the tongue so much more sweetly.”

His colorful expressions and gestures were more than any veteran actor could dare imitate.

“Forgive my tardiness. I am called Comte. As you may or may not know, I am a playwright by trade and a merchant by necessity.”

Cecil clarified for me.

“He’s the best playwright in all of Lythbridge.”

Comte scoffed.

“Oh, don’t be so kind.”

“Oh, excuse me, but has Master Anthony not arrived yet?”

“Oh, he’ll be here in an hour. Now, my dear friends of Ethornia. Are there any questions or curiosities you may have?”

Cecil spoke up.

“Uhm, no.”

“What about you, Yulave?”

“….”

His eyes narrowed as he scanned me up and down before he asked probingly.

“Is this your first time at an event like this?”

Damn, was it that obvious that I was out of my element at this ball? He had a keen eye.

“Yes, it is. I did not realize Lythbridge had so many artists.”

“Oh, not all of them are. You see, there is a mixture of patrons and critics as well.”

“I fear I may not fit in with these conversations, having lived most of my life without art.”

“Oh, ho, ho, don’t you worry.”

Comte waved a dismissive hand and glanced behind me before leaning in close to me.

“Don’t be fooled by their parlor tricks. The Valencia School. The Claridian Cubists. The Expression of Petranian Ideals. Blah, blah, blah. They pretend to explore high and metaphysical art with their obscure jargon, but at the end of the day, these pretentious fools have only two base desires on their minds.”

“…?”

He leaned in even closer.

“…Money and fornication.”

He said it with a sly grin and a wink.

Cecil’s lips pursed in mild disapproval as the artist’s bluntness seemed to unsettle her somewhat.

“I…hope that is not the case. I have no interest in such vulgar matters. I am here to simply enjoy the art, as I am sure they are as well.”

She forced a casual and serene smile.

Comte tapped his finger against her temple as if he were scolding a child.

“Be careful, naive Yulave. Those who say they have no interest or need for such things are often the ones who crave it the most. I’ve met many such frauds in my travels as a merchant.”

Hm….

“Oh, no…!”

Cecil sputtered like a broken music box. Her face flushed as red as a beet in an instant.

It wasn’t often that I saw her so flustered when she could usually out-talk anyone with just her wit alone.

“Well, then. Until next time. Mush!”

The man left with a satisfied smirk, not giving her a chance to defend herself. He must have been quite good at teasing.

Once he left, an awkward silence settled over us like a bucket of water. Cecile tugs at the sleeve of my dress. She who had no qualms about touching me was suddenly shy, like Luna.

“No, you know?”

“Hm?”

“Not that.”

Cecile taps her foot as if to express her frustration.

“I understand.”

“You…”

“Artists… they’re not easy, are they?”

“Well… that’s unfair.”

Cecile turns her back to me and fans herself, trying to cool her face. I also try to put on a straight face, but it’s hard. I feel the same way she does.

***

Cecile finally calmed down after downing two glasses of wine.

I surveyed the banquet hall, keeping Cecile’s protective wall at a reasonable distance.

A magician performing tricks in front of us creates an illusion of roses.

Cecile discreetly links arms with me and waves at the magician.

“Rigved will be a more interesting place from now on.”

“Why’s that?”

“Most of the artists here are from Claridium. They’ve gathered here to move in as a group and find new patrons.”

“Is something good happening in Rigved?”

“Claridium is the wealthiest and most advanced magical city in the world. It’s hard to get patrons and afford housing there unless you’re a magician.”

“They could have gone to the Empire or somewhere else.”

“Rigved is one of the places with the least discrimination based on origin. Capital flows in steadily, wealthy nobles from various countries often visit, and there are few taboos.”

“Well, that’s good for us.”

There’s a saying that you hear over and over again when you’re taking art classes.

Artists should go to big cities.

The more people there are, the more money you can make, and the more chances you have to catch the eye of a rich person who will invest in your work.

Rigved is a big city in its own way, but it’s not as big as Claridium. It rains a lot and is often foggy, so it’s not very pleasant. It must not have been an easy decision to move, so I wanted to hear the details of why they decided to do so.

Suddenly, Cecile raises her head and looks at me with clear eyes, free of intoxication.

“It’s nice. Even better than the last ball.”

“Yes.”

“…Let’s come out to play more often.”

Cecile casually suggests we meet again. I wonder if it’s okay to make so many promises, but I nod as if possessed.

“Yes.”

As we were moving on to the next attraction, Cecile suddenly stopped. Her eyebrows crease slightly, as if she had seen a rat rummaging through a trash can.

“What? Why is he here?”

“Why?”

I look in the direction she is looking. Hubert, dressed to the nines, is raising a glass to us from afar. He is surrounded by ladies with ample cleavage, the pride of the dwarven race.

Cecile’s words come out in a monotonous tone. She must have sobered up at the sight of Hubert.

“Oh, please.”

He shakes off the ladies and approaches us.

Hubert tapped my shoulder, pretending to be familiar.

“You’re here?”

I gave him a slight fist bump greeting, but when I just stared blankly, he quietly put it away.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he began to tease Cecile like before.

“You, I knew it. You’re like a child who doesn’t get candy, whining and whining until you finally freeze to….”

“Be quiet.”

“Well done. People should talk while looking at each other’s faces.”

“Stop it, stop it.”

“You’re just pretending to value the inside…”

“That’s right! I’ll dump anyone who doesn’t get along with me and talk to someone better without any integrity!”

From Noble mtl dot com

“I’m just cheering you on. Sincerely.”

The conversation between the two felt like a one-act play. Both of them knew my true identity, but they were talking as if that fact wasn’t shared.

Just then, the banquet hall suddenly became noisy.

A group of people entered through the main entrance, and everyone covered their mouths and whispered while looking at them. The Comte, who had just teased Cecile, ran busily to welcome them.

“Misha! Anthony! Valentina! I’m so sorry. I’m so glad to see you that I can’t think of a welcoming phrase.”

Five girls came in in a group. Their clothes were mismatched robes that dragged on the floor, not suitable for a banquet. It seemed they had come in a hurry, with no time to dress formally.

“It’s okay! We’ve seen a lot of people being speechless at our beauty!”

“We missed you, mister!”

The girls laughed out loud.

Behind them, an attendant followed with brushes and a canvas. A large man who looked like a knight escort was following them, but was stopped by the doorman. Judging by their attire and the servants who followed them, the girls didn’t seem to be artists or guardians. In that case, they must be celebrities invited only for their fame or popularity. The more people like that there are, the more desirable this place will be.

The girls’ confident comments seemed to have some basis, even to my eyes, which had been raised to a high standard thanks to Sylverin.

Hubert muttered grimly, looking at the newcomers.

“They came as rumored.”

Cecile showed interest.

“Who? Someone you know?”

“Who else, but the ones we’ll meet as enemies during our exchange match. The golden generation of the Imperial Academy.”

Cecile reacted indifferently.

“Hmm. If they were the real golden generation, they wouldn’t have come to Iternia.”

“Yeah, that’s the damn right answer.”

Cecile checked her watch and handed me her glass, saying,

“Oh, Mr. Anthony must have arrived. I have to meet him because of a professor’s request. Damian, will you stay here for a while? And… don’t do anything weird!”

“Go ahead.”

Cecile hurried into the main building of the banquet hall.

Hubert, who confirmed her departure, gulped down the white wine in his hand and revealed his true nature.

“Ah, my friend, the term ‘golden generation’ is not just about ability. If you had an eye for it… well, anyway.”

“…”

The girls from the Empire and the Comte talked about something. Then the Comte’s gaze turned to us, and he spoke passionately, mixing in gestures. It seemed that he was introducing them briefly, since they were about the same age and from the Academy.

The girls began to blend into the banquet after finishing their noisy greetings.

“This is your chance, my friend. If you miss this, your ancestors in hell will scold you for the rest of your life.”

“What chance?”

“Are we just going to limit our infinite possibilities to Eterna? Seriously? Dating only girls from the same school is the worst. Dating underclassmen is even worse. Imagine the hell of running into them everywhere you go for the next four years: the cafeteria, the lecture halls, the dorms.”

“Didn’t you hook up with that sunbae before?”

I remember now. This guy was practically attached at the hip with some sunbae during the prom.

“No, not really. I mean, there’s definitely some heat, but it’s more of a friendly senior-junior relationship right now. Like you and Cecil, you and Luna, you and Zion…”

“Shut up.”

Damn, this kid is asking for trouble.

“And dude, sunbaes have different schedules and graduate earlier, so it’s way-way better than dating underclassmen. You’re really asking for it. Well, it’s definitely better than hitting on professors, though.”

My head was starting to throb now.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Hubert tossed a silver coin into his empty glass.

“I’m going to go for it. I bet you one coin that I’ll get that two-toned pigtail girl’s stitch marker.”

“You’re going to get struck by lightning.”

“Dude, it’s just a game. We’re not going to get all gross and attached or anything. It’s a pure exchange of stitches. She’s probably looking for attention, too. Life is too serious sometimes. You’ll choke if you don’t lighten up.”

I took out a coin and tossed it into his glass, taking the bet. I just wanted him to go away.

“Yeah, I’ll bet one on ‘no way’. Go get ’em.”

Do whatever you want. It’s not my funeral.

Only then did Hubert break out into a mischievous grin.

“The great poet Almus wrote in his memoirs, ‘Any woman over twenty with pigtails is batsh*t crazy.'”

“….”

“I’m just going on a grand adventure to seduce a woman on the brink of insanity.”

Hubert exclaimed dramatically, like an actor on stage.

“Raise the anchor, my lords.”

Then he started walking away, imitating the sound of a ship’s horn. The strong scent of grape wine lingered where he had been.