—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuziro
—————————————————————–
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
In a corner of Rahel Academy lay a cemetery.
A cemetery nestled within a cradle of learning might seem excessively gloomy.
However, if one considered that those buried there were figures deserving of respect and remembrance, the gloom transformed into a sense of reassurance and resolve.
As if the great individuals who had dedicated themselves to the academy were still watching over it.
As if one could draw strength from their presence, even without scientific proof.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t sought out this cemetery to pay respects to some universally acknowledged hero.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
These were individuals abandoned by the academy.
Bodies the academy had reluctantly taken on, simply because there was nowhere else to bury them.
Bodies laid to rest in the most remote and neglected corner, uncared for and forgotten.
“Charlotte.”
I found the graves of Charlotte’s parents.
Two bodies, but only a single headstone.
It wasn’t entirely unkempt, but compared to the meticulously maintained tombs of other prominent figures, its shabbiness was undeniable.
There were no grand statues, no expansive plots dedicated to their memory.
Standing before the grave, which clearly demonstrated the academy’s reluctance to even acknowledge their existence, a renewed sense of anger welled up within me.
It was as if they had simply discarded the bodies.
My reason for visiting was simple.
Ziiiing—
By channeling mana into a corner of the tombstone, a screen materialized.
A thoughtful gesture from the academy, allowing access to records of the deceased.
Arbeth Forte
I had come to access the records of these two individuals.
Because of Lepista, I could only teach Charlotte through provided materials, and to truly inspire her through those materials, I needed to understand her better.
What would motivate Charlotte?
That was my task for the day.
“Papa. Why are we here?”
Lepista asked.
“I’m not feeling well.”
“Is it because of that one-eyed man? Your face looks unhappy…”
Through various interactions and conversations with her, I had learned a few things.
Lepista possessed neither telepathy nor sharp intuition.
Her childish mentality worked to my advantage.
Even now, she was as simple as a real child.
A furrowed brow meant I was upset, a relaxed expression meant I was content.
‘This plan isn’t so bad after all.’
I could deepen my understanding of Charlotte while simultaneously instilling in Lepista a sense of dislike towards her.
At this rate, there would be no problem getting Lepista to designate Charlotte as her “enemy.”
“What’s this?”
Lepista pointed at the other tombstones.
My gaze naturally swept over the surrounding graves.
Each grave held its own story.
If I were to have a grave someday, what story would it tell?
The thought, once sparked, continued to unravel.
“Oh.”
My gaze stopped at Lepista’s feet.
A single, fresh flower lay there.
Next to it, a small mound of withered flowers indicated recent visits.
Evidence that Charlotte consistently visited this place.
What were the feelings of a child honoring parents lost at a young age?
I reached for the fresh flower, then hesitated.
“Lepista. Transform.”
“Okay!”
After returning Lepista to her name tag form, I slowly resumed reading the records of Charlotte’s parents.
Flame Sculpting was exactly what it sounded like: the manipulation and shaping of formless flames into tangible forms.
‘I should note this down.’
I quietly jotted it down in my notebook.
Heredity was a significant factor for mages.
If Charlotte’s parents excelled in this area, Charlotte likely possessed similar potential.
I recorded a few more details.
Barely four points.
“Is that all?”
Unfortunately, it seemed Rahel Academy’s interest in the Forte family extended only this far.
Their description ended abruptly, without further elaboration.
However, there were still pages remaining.
The heading itself, “Anecdotes,” suggested a departure from academic matters.
The unsettling part was that this “Anecdotes” section was longer than the sections detailing Frenzy and Arbeth Forte’s magical prowess.
I briefly debated whether to read further, but my hesitation was short-lived.
I needed to understand Charlotte better, by any means necessary.
And the moment I turned the page…
“…What.”
I couldn’t help but feel a little taken aback.
-Frenzy Forte appears to have been particularly devoted to her daughter.
Even when the Forte family home caught fire, her greatest regret was the loss of the diary where she had documented her daughter’s upbringing.
-Her love for her daughter was especially evident in instances like…
-Another example, even at a friend’s wedding, she would unexpectedly start boasting about her daughter…
Every anecdote revolved around Charlotte.
Did I not know this already?
No, I was well aware that Charlotte’s parents had showered her with attention and affection.
I had assumed I would remain unfazed by seeing concrete evidence of this.
I was wrong.
Knowing something vaguely and witnessing it firsthand were entirely different.
The difference was greater than that between heaven and earth.
I unconsciously closed the file.
I couldn’t bring myself to face the sincerity contained within those small letters.
No, I had already faced it.
I could imagine how much they loved their daughter.
It wasn’t because of my high comprehension skills that I understood.
It was because their sincerity was so overwhelming.
Charlotte must have felt this sincerity every time she read these words.
“Ah…”
How did she face this sincerity every day?
I couldn’t fathom the extent of her pain and suffering, even if I knew.
Suddenly, all my actions felt shameless.
Her parents had been killed by demons.
“Papa… Are you very angry? Are you angry?”
I didn’t answer.
But it was clear that I was angrier than ever.
I hated this world.
That’s why I was angry.
Charlotte Forte seemed designed solely for “tragedy.”
Having lost her parents to demons, this world forced her to save it.
Moreover, it even designed her to rely on demonic power in the process.
How could it do such a thing?
It was unforgivable.
Nowhere in this world could I find a source of happiness for her.
Why couldn’t she be happy?
Why was everything steeped in sorrow and tragedy?
Even my transmigration into this world as a demon now felt malicious.
Did they want me, a demon, to obstruct her path?
“…I will.”
I wouldn’t allow it.
I clenched my fists.
If my previous goal was to help her save the world, I now added another: to make her happy.
It felt newly unjust, infuriating, and absurd.
-“I’ll do anything you say, Professor.”
Charlotte’s words suddenly echoed in my ears.
-“I’m always grateful to you, Professor.”
“What in the…”
Perhaps I was the one shackling her with misfortune.
Perhaps the girl herself didn’t even realize how unhappy and burdened her life was.
“……”
I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking about Charlotte.
I had never done this before, thinking about someone else.
My head felt numb.
Even with my eyes closed, my vision blurred.
Perhaps something was trickling down my cheeks.
Lepista asked several times, “Are you that angry? Are you really that angry?” but I couldn’t answer.
-Thwack!
The sudden sound of something falling nearby made me hurriedly wipe my eyes and turn my head.
“Ah… Oh, uh…”
And my eyes met with a familiar student.
“S-sorry.”
She averted her gaze.
It was Michelle Meinens.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
[Bro is sad]
