Chapter 4 : Regression (3)

Chapter 4: Regression (3)

What was this?

Startled, I moved my hand, and the liquid in the glass sloshed.

The crimson liquid rippled and trickled down the inside wall of the glass.

It was a sight I could hardly believe.

‘No way…’

I brought my nose closer and took a sniff.

Then, carefully, I took a sip.

A deep richness spread across the tip of my tongue.

It was unmistakable.

This was wine.

And not just any wine—quite a fine one at that.

‘…What in the world just happened?’

What had been inside was clearly water.

It had been water, but now it was wine.

Clink.

Something dropped with a small sound.

When I looked up, I saw Lancia, who had dropped her spoon onto the tray, staring at me blankly.

“Uh…”

Her amber eyes trembled faintly in disbelief.

Then she swallowed with a small gulp and said,

“J-Junior… Could that, perhaps, possibly be what I think it is…?”

A miracle.

To change water into wine, no less.

She muttered quietly, her voice trembling.

I was about to make some excuse, but I closed my mouth at once.

Anything I said now would only sound like a lame excuse.

‘A miracle, huh.’

A miracle.

To followers of Ilionel, the god of light and creation, it was a word engraved in both their minds and hearts—a guiding ideal.

…Though that might sound lofty, in truth, any follower of the Holy Sun Church could make use of miracles.

However, the miracles each person could manifest varied wildly.

For some, a miracle amounted to nothing more than healing a small cut.

For others, it could reattach severed limbs.

Some could part the sea, summon lightning, or bring rain to a clear sky.

In legends and myths, there were even those said to have resurrected the dead.

Since I, too, had followed the teachings of the Holy Sun Church, I could perform miracles as well.

And that was precisely why I knew better than anyone—

That with my power, there was absolutely no way I could perform a miracle that turned water into wine.

‘…Let’s think.’

Those who could perform miracles that altered water were not especially rare.

The problem was that changing it into something completely different, like oil or alcohol, was not something just anyone could do.

And of all things, this was wine.

I didn’t know the reason or the exact principle behind it, but I did know that, perhaps because of its symbolism, it was considered one of the most difficult transformations.

You’d need to be at least of archbishop rank to manage such a feat.

…Yes, at least an archbishop.

In other words, turning water into wine was not something a mere academy student like me could possibly do with ease.

It was no wonder Lancia Jintia was looking at me like that.

People our age with such divine power could be counted on one hand.

And, above all, in the Holy Sun Church, possessing strong divine power alone was enough to earn deep respect.

‘But…’

This wasn’t good.

There was no need to think too deeply about it.

I didn’t even know exactly what had just happened to me right now.

In such a situation, if I attracted the attention of the Holy Sun Church for no reason…

“…A miracle? No, it’s nothing like that, Senior.”

After a brief moment of thought, my conclusion was simple.

“Yes?”

“It’s just a simple trick.”

Put on a shameless face and feign ignorance.

Then, subtly plant a misleading hint.

Those were my two moves.

“What? But I clearly—”

“It’s true. It’s just nothing more than a little trick. Embarrassing as it is to admit, I really love alcohol.”

“So I was trying to drink without anyone noticing, but I got caught.”

Even to me, the one saying it, it sounded like a ridiculous excuse.

It was the kind of excuse that wouldn’t fool even a child—but I was certain it would work on Lancia Jintia, sitting right in front of me.

Because she, too, was hiding her true self from others.

On the surface, her wide eyes seemed to say she didn’t understand what was going on, but she was probably racking her brain even now.

If I hinted to her that I had unavoidable personal circumstances, she would understand.

“I’m really sorry to ask this, but could you please keep this a secret from others?”

I smiled at her as I spoke.

“My father is incredibly strict. On top of that, he’s very authoritarian… If he found out about this, I’d be in serious, serious trouble.”

“I’ll come to make a confession about my wrongdoing next time. So please, Senior.”

I gazed steadily at her as I finished speaking.

After a moment, Lancia Jintia quietly nodded.

“…I see, it was a trick.”

Murmuring so, she gave me a faint, sheepish smile.

“Mmm, how embarrassing. I’m supposed to be an aspiring holy knight, yet I didn’t notice at all. I still have a long way to go in my training.”

With a small cough, she picked up the spoon she had dropped.

“It’s quite the skill, but I think it’s best not to show it off too much in front of others. You might draw unnecessary suspicion.”

“Yes, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Had I managed to brush it off somehow?

I let out a small sigh of relief and picked up a piece of bread.

But who could have known things would turn out like this?

I hadn’t infused the water with divine power or prayed for a miracle—yet suddenly, the water in my cup had turned into wine…

‘Wait.’

Thinking back, I was sure I had just been thinking about wanting to drink alcohol.

‘No way… Could it really be because of that? Just because I thought it?’

…It seemed something far stranger than I imagined had happened to me.

Who would have thought that spending the last few days holed up in my room doing nothing would come back to me like this?

‘I need to find out what’s happened to me as soon as possible.’

As I was thinking that, Lancia Jintia quietly spoke to me.

“Come to think of it, Junior, did you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“This year, a new training hall was completed at the academy. It’s for us Crooks—meaning it’s specially designed for training divine power.”

She swallowed the last of her food and continued.

“There’s no better place to train powers that are still undeveloped or unfamiliar. And since it’s just been completed, not many people know about it yet.”

Having finished her meal at some point, she let out a small sigh.

“And if Sister Roberta is there, she’ll be a great help to you. It’s a little embarrassing to say this myself, but if you tell her you came on my recommendation, she’ll gladly make time for you.”

Sister Roberta.

That was a name I knew well.

She was a veteran battle priest who had traveled the continent as a seeker—a true seasoned warrior worthy of the title.

“I sincerely thank you for the advice, Senior.”

“Think of it as payment for the delicious meal.”

Smiling, Lancia excused herself and rose from her seat.

Then she spoke to me.

“Lord Ilionel said that silence should be valued. As you do, I also always hold Lord Ilionel’s teachings dear.”

She was telling me she would keep my secret, so I needn’t worry.

With those words, she turned away.

Watching her walk off with a straight posture, I slowly bit into my bread.

“It’s good.”

I resolved to be more careful with my actions from now on.

…But that was that, and this was this.

A short while later.

I rose from my seat while looking at the broad back of a stocky male student who had just stood up.

Wasn’t it Lord Ilionel who said—when in conflict with someone you can’t reason with, don’t engage them, just smile and leave?

I had said the very same thing to Lancia Jintia just moments ago.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t exactly a devout believer.

Nor did I have the eloquence of a renowned priest to reform someone or make them repent with just a few words.

Instead—perhaps thanks to countless experiences in my mercenary days—

I knew exactly how to deal with people like that so that communication would work.

“Excuse me, mind if I have a word?”

“Huh? You’re that guy from earlier…”

For people like this, a beating was the only cure.

I grinned widely.

One of my biggest regrets from my previous life was not attending combat-related classes diligently.

Being a Crooks dormitory student—that is, a Holy Sun Church follower—didn’t mean all you did was memorize scripture and recite prayers.

Art, architecture, crafts, the arts, transcription and reading, the methods of writing biographies and history. Mathematics for administrative work…

We learned all sorts of things.

‘I should have learned at least one more practical skill instead of that useless stuff.’

Though doctrine forbade the use of blades, the truth was that, if one wished, there were countless ways to hone martial and weapon skills.

The Holy Sun Church wasn’t so rigid as to punish you simply for taking such classes at the academy in the first place.

The problem was that, even knowing this, I had not done it before.

Was it a rebellious reaction to being forced into the Crooks, or had I simply given up?

If my second brother hadn’t forced all sorts of lessons on me, I’d probably have been caught and killed before I’d gotten far in my escape.

‘Who knows what might happen in the future—best to learn everything I can while I can.’

In the end, it meant I would have had to come to the training hall eventually anyway.

Thanks to Lancia Jintia, I could consider this a good opportunity that had come early.

With that thought, I began walking slowly.

‘There are more people here than I expected.’

A fair number of people were gathered in the practice yard, which was open to all dormitory students.

Given what had happened earlier, I thought it best to find a spot with fewer people and kept looking for somewhere quiet.

“Hm?”

In a corner so tucked away, and so cleverly concealed from view, that you couldn’t see it from elsewhere—

Several students had gathered there.

More precisely, several of them had surrounded one student as if hemming him in.

And that one student wore the same insignia on his shoulder as I did, marking him as a first-year.

‘What’s this.’

Were they already trying to establish dominance over the new students?

Just as I was thinking I’d steer clear, I suddenly realized that student’s face looked oddly familiar.

Who was it again…? I dug into my memory and then, at last, I remembered who it was.

“…Allen Amiel?”

I muttered the name aloud without thinking, then quickly sucked in my breath in alarm.

‘Oh, hell…!’

I instinctively ducked down.

I say “instinctively,” but in truth I had all but stumbled into a crouch.

And yet I felt no shame or embarrassment.

Allen Amiel.

Anyone who knew of him would have reacted the same way.

The illegitimate son of Count Amiel.

He was famous for having inherited the Amiel family’s distinctive red hair more strongly than anyone, which had landed him in no shortage of gossip.

But he was even more infamous for being expelled from the academy shortly after entering—due to being involved in a murder case.

“Phew…”

I took several deep breaths to steady my racing heart.

Even now, I could clearly picture the scene I had once witnessed in my previous life—Allen Amiel in the midst of battle.

The memory came back far too vividly.

It was… hell itself.

A battlefield drenched in blood.

Bodies cut into pieces.

People screaming for their families from the mud.

And at the center of it all—

Allen Amiel.

He was no human.

He was… a beast born solely for slaughter.

Recalling that, I felt a chill like my heart was freezing.

“The world really has changed.”

A voice, sharp and full of irritation.

A voice carrying heavy, simmering anger.

“To think a bastard dares to walk around here with his head held high.”

“…Are you so desperate to die?”

I muttered without meaning to.

The incident where Allen Amiel had hacked apart a noble on the spot for calling him a bastard was common knowledge to anyone alive in those days.

But contrary to my expectations, Allen Amiel simply bowed his head in silence.

“…Brother.”

“How dare you call me brother!”

At the sharp cry, Allen Amiel lowered his head at once.

“My apologies. I have erred, Young Master.”

“Don’t forget your place just because Father showed you mercy. How dare you…!”

No.

Don’t.

I felt as though my heart might stop.

“And you even had the gall to come crawling into the same place as me? Seems you’ve decided to make me a laughingstock.”

“That was never my intent, Young Master. Please believe me.”

“Shut your mouth—your stench carries all the way over here.”

Then he casually threw one of the wooden swords he had been holding.

Allen Amiel stared down at the sword tossed at his feet.

“Pick it up.”

“Young Master.”

“I’d love to tear you apart with a real blade right now, but for Father’s and my own dignity, I won’t do that.”

The upperclassman with light red hair growled like a beast.

“Instead, I’ll make sure you leave this place on your own two feet.”

“Young Master, I truly… truly don’t want to do this.”

At Allen Amiel’s pleading words, the upperclassman snorted.

“Do I need to draw a real sword before you’ll pick it up?”

Faced with the threat, Allen Amiel closed his mouth tightly, then slowly picked up the wooden sword.

Madman.

He really was a madman.

I kept muttering it to myself.

Knowing what would inevitably come next, I shut my eyes tightly without meaning to.

Among Allen Amiel’s many infamous stories, there was even one where he had beaten a fully armored opponent to death with his bare hands.

At last, Allen Amiel quietly picked up the wooden sword.

At the sight, I instinctively closed my eyes again.

The outcome was too obvious.

But then…

“…Huh?”

What unfolded next was the sight of Allen Amiel being mercilessly beaten.