"Uweeeeeeek!! Guweeeeeeeek!!"
I'm retching this early in the morning, but it's not to welcome a surprise cold snap.
It's just that I drank myself silly until dawn, tongue twisted and all, and now I feel like I'm dying from this hangover.
After cleaning up the sink and myself, I head to the closet and pull out my uniform—just looking at it makes me want to hurl again.
Takes forever to take off, takes forever to put on.
When I step outside, the cold wind still blowing brushes against my cheek.
If yesterday had gone according to plan, I'd be passed out in some tavern right now, not giving a damn how the world turns.
The path to the Academy is in the opposite direction from the tavern.
Students in matching uniforms all bustle toward the same destination.
I follow behind them, cigarette dangling from my mouth, shuffling along.
I can't remember the last time I visited the Academy in the morning.
Actually, it might've been a while since I visited at all.
When was it that I got drunk and broke in through a window in the dead of night?
Passing the dormitory building toward the main hall, a rather welcome face greets me.
'Can't hide behind Giselle's skirt with that hand anymore, can you? Coward.'
The Academy's beloved troublemaker, that mischievous prankster Max, comes over and greets me.
"Where are you rushing off to?
If you're looking for Giselle, she's not here yet, unfortunately."
"My head's killing me, so shut up and get lost."
We exchange the kind of banter close friends share, walking shoulder to shoulder.
As you can see, Max has a warm and friendly personality, so he has tons of friends.
The three or four people surrounding me right now are just some of them.
"Ain, just Ain now. Not Magnolia anymore.
The air's a bit different up there, isn't it? How does it feel to be a commoner?"
Max harbors deep resentment toward the privileged elite of this rotten elitist society.
Proud working-class red blood flows through him, creating harmony between his imposing physique and an equally large fighting spirit.
To put it simply, he's a fucking bastard.
A worthless punk you can find anywhere.
'Come to think of it, this bastard dodged the draft that I couldn't avoid.'
I want to open up to Max honestly.
Tell him I deeply sympathize with his ideology.
That I wish all those leeches riding on their family's coattails would just drop dead.
The mother who raised Max alone must have poured every penny she saved over decades—back bent day and night, blood and sweat flowing—into her son's tuition.
The only way for a commoner to enter the Academy is through lobbying, after all.
She must have made literally 'blood'-curdling efforts for her precious child.
Now let's turn our attention back to this son of a bitch here.
How did such a bastard come from such an admirable person?
Hint: Max's mother worked in the same profession as my late mother.
"Did you hurt your mouth instead of your eyes?
What are you mumbling about? Ready to get expelled?"
"I think I'm ready to fuck your mom though..."
I clearly hadn't sobered up from the hangover yet.
My defense mechanism, selecting only certain words filling my foggy head, birthed a vicious insult about his dead mother that would leave deep scars on the fragile Max.
'Shit, that was way too harsh. I feel bad now that I've said it.'
"...What?"
Max and his gang all doubt their ears.
Shock seems to be overwhelming anger for now.
Ah, it's about to blow.
"Y-y-you son of a bitch!!"
"Son. Is that how you talk to your new dad?"
I'm a terrible comedian, Max.
Clinging to failed humor. Forgive your pathetic friend.
A small scuffle typical for our age group broke out between Max's gang and me.
When guys get big, fistfights happen. What of it?
.
.
.
Clutching my throbbing, busted lip, I head to the student council room.
As I climb the main building stairs and pass through the corridor, piercing stares from all directions sting.
Standing before the door, I take a couple of breaths before knocking.
-Knock knock
"Come in."
Even disciplinary action just follows simple procedures.
I avoided coming because I hated that stiff atmosphere and authoritative attitude.
Inside the student council room were the bespectacled president, the secretary, a teacher, and Iris, the treasurer.
Iris, who had been sitting, waves her hand slightly so the others won't notice.
The teacher in the corner doesn't even pretend to look at me, just staring at the pocket watch in his hand.
"Please sit."
I sit in the chair prepared in the center of the room.
The hard texture of the chair, as rigid as the air in this place, doesn't put me at ease.
The president speaks with deeply furrowed brows.
"The student of this institution, Ain Magnolia..."
"It's just Ain now."
"I heard there are still procedures remaining before the disownment."
Can you call it a procedure to sit there nodding while forcing down food that won't go down your throat, facing faces you hate, and taking all kinds of contempt through your ears?
"Then, Ain. I'll first ask about the disturbance that occurred in the plaza yesterday.
The person who expressed deep regret at your rudeness is a distinguished guest invited in the Empire's name. Are you aware?"
"I didn't know what position that person held.
But I would've done the same even if I had. That's not the only matter, is it?"
The president's eyebrows twitch once, and Iris's face rapidly turns pale.
Iris crosses both hands on her lap to form an X. She's also shaking her head.
"Frequent refusal to attend, property damage.
And the one-sided assault on a fellow student just reported."
That bastard Max needs to be castrated.
Tattling about friends roughhousing a bit.
I'm more than a little disappointed.
"According to this institution's policy, it will be decided in due course, but you should prepare for severe disciplinary action."
"If you're done talking, may I leave?"
Iris is trembling, practically foaming at the mouth.
Taking a small breath, Iris rises from her chair and opens her mouth.
Yellow eyes like mine glitter in the shadows like a cat's.
A cold voice begins to fill the room.
"The rumors circulating about Ain are merely gossip.
Disownment? Estrangement? Do you truly believe, President, that the proud Magnolia family would actually cast out their only son?
Please don't forget, as you proceed with your procedures, that Ain Magnolia remains under our family's protection."
"But Ain himself acknowledged the disownment."
Iris narrows her eyes and glares at the president.
As if compensating for being narrowed, her gaze becomes even clearer and more intense.
"My foolish brother must have made a mistake.
I trust you won't cling to a minor slip of the tongue."
This is the secret to how Iris, who stammers and can't speak properly in front of me, secured the important position of treasurer on the student council.
That must be her mask. Her true nature is trailing off her words and frustrating the listener.
I'm impressed by her masterful skill every time I see it.
"...We'll take that into consideration when deciding the punishment."
As the president concedes and backs down, Iris leans back in her chair again.
Perhaps still tense, she maintains her expression and demeanor without relaxing.
The president's conduct is correct.
Whatever his position at the Academy, there's nothing good about throwing his weight around in front of a noble family.
Ah, Max. I miss that simple, ignorant bravery of yours.
Even after fighting like that, she'll be the first to turn her back when I'm finally kicked out of the family.
The image of Iris comes to mind—how she changed her attitude like flipping her palm when I was running around trying to borrow a hand somehow, abandoning me.
"We'll contact you with the details later. You may go."
With the feeling of bidding farewell to the hierarchical atmosphere, I quickly close the door and leave.
As I light a cigarette against the corridor wall with a match, the door opens and Iris follows me out.
Free from others' gazes, she immediately relaxes.
"H-how could you say that, Ain... Big Sis was shocked..."
"It's over, right? I'm leaving."
"W-wait..."
"W-w-wait or whatever, I'm busy."
Today too, the taverns hidden in the Empire's underbelly must be waiting for me to visit.
Yesterday's place was a total bust. Let's find a new tavern.
"Y-you're just going to drink anyway..."
"Correct. Now let go of my wrist."
Iris has somehow approached and is holding my hand.
Why do all these magic users have this kind of strength when they don't even exercise?
"D-don't do that... Won't you have lunch with Big Sis...?"
"I won't. Unless you're buying drinks."
"Haah... Okay..."
"...? What's okay?"
"I'll buy you drinks... But Big Sis gets to choose the restaurant... Is that okay?"
I shake off the held wrist and rummage through my pockets to check my wallet situation.
"What are you waiting for? Lead the way. We'll miss lunch at this rate."
.
.
.
Suicide would end it all, but that doesn't mean I'll turn down free drinks.
Suddenly, I feel a strange sense of kinship with Iris.
Blood really is thicker than water. Indeed.
The restaurant we arrived at wasn't in the damp alley I usually frequent, but in a bright place with a view of the river through the window.
Thanks to that, the atmosphere between us brightens up—which will absolutely never happen.
I silently sip my drink while Iris diligently cuts her cutlet with fork and knife.
Just looking at the knife makes the pain I felt in my past life's final moment vivid, as if I'd just experienced it.
Just because I live with suicide on my lips doesn't mean I have masochistic hobbies.
Rather, I'm sick of pain. Whether experienced from inside the body or outside.
That's probably one of the reasons I didn't bother refusing Iris's proposal.
If circumstances don't allow it, I'll risk death, but if I can leech off someone, living as long and thin as possible might be good too.
Though I probably don't have more than a few months left anyway.
"D-does it suit your taste...?"
"Yeah. The sweetness is just right. Want to try?"
"N-no... Big Sis has to go back to the Academy..."
There were times when that autistic-like speech impediment felt endearing.
Maybe because Ain's childhood was particularly bleak, but Iris's charity sometimes moistened my heart like spring rain.
Maybe it was because I was an only child in reality, so the kindness as a sister I'd never received was welcome.
Let's toss the kinship I felt entering the shop into the river visible through the window.
I enjoyed the pointless time, focusing only on the drink before me.
"A-Ain... Big Sis has something to say..."
"That's amazing. I don't want to hear it though."
"W-why do you talk like that... Lately... you seem so changed..."
Is it because of the six-month gap, or because I quit being 'Ain'?
From Iris's perspective, I might be the one who seems to have changed my attitude like flipping my palm.
"...Go ahead."
"...Won't you apologize to Father?"
"......"
What answer does Iris want when she asks me this?
"Apologize for what?"
"N-no... I don't mean Ain did something wrong..."
Her already small voice crawls into a mouse hole.
"F-Father will surely... if Ain bends... he'll take you back..."
I put down my glass and roughly ran my dry hand over my face.
To summarize, she's saying to confess to crimes I never committed and return under the family's protection.
It's a change if anything. In my past life, I didn't even get this proposal.
My temples throb as if tightened with rope, so I pull out a cigarette.
Iris lights it with her index finger ignited by magic.
Unlike before, she at least serves as a match and wallet substitute, which is deeply moving.
I exhaled smoke in a long stream, away from Iris's face.
But the pain only intensifies.
She's probably not doing this with malice. I want to believe that.
Still, having seen certain things growing up, I don't feel like being as harsh with Iris as I am with Max.
"Thanks for the meal."
Then leaving would be the best move.
I push back my chair and stand before bad words slip out and the atmosphere turns hostile.
Contrary to expectations, Iris doesn't actively try to stop me.
"Th-think about it... and when you've made up your mind, t-tell Big Sis..."
"That won't happen. I'm leaving."
Leaving the restaurant, I throw the finished cigarette butt on the ground and step on it.
Even after escaping the source of the headache, its aftermath still lingers in my body.
I wandered aimlessly under the sunlight.
After hesitating for a long time whether to head to a bar or home, I turned my steps toward the Academy.
For some reason, today's pain seems like it would thrive better in a damp space.