“That’s not it. Do you think I’d do something that insane?”
“Something insane? You just did.”
“Stop playing pointless word games. I don’t have the energy to keep responding to your nonsense.”
Leopold shot back, stung.
“Is that what you say to someone who’s worried about you?”
“All I heard was nonsense, so what worry?”
Irritated, he flung Terren’s dagger far away. When Terren Meyer glared at him fiercely, he issued a firm command.
“Don’t even think about touching it again.”
“…Are you out of your mind?”
“No? I’d say I’m considerably more sane than you.”
“Give it back right now, Leopold.”
“You keep doing reckless things — why would I give it back? As the first prince of the Kingdom of Delua, I have the right to protect a citizen in danger.”
“Oh, what a saint. Enough of that, give it back. I won’t tolerate any more of this.”
Leopold found it somehow funny. As if Terren had the strength to stop him!
The situation was baffling, and Terren Meyer was, truly, a strange and unhinged person — yet seeing him in genuine, furious anger, in this very moment, was oddly reassuring to Leopold.
“Then come here. I’ll treat it.”
“I know how to heal myself, so stay out of it.”
“Oh? Then do it yourself. I’ll be watching right here, so do it right now.”
“I refuse. Why should I?”
“Then I won’t give back your dagger either. Did you think I’d put up with your rude behavior forever?”
Terren Meyer ground his teeth and spread out a magic circle. As he poured healing magic into his own wrist, he silently ran through a stream of curses in his head.
Leopold commanded.
“Heal your neck too.”
“Who are you to order me around?”
“As you said yourself, I’m the prince and you’re merely a student at the Royal Academy, aren’t you? Then you should listen to what I say.”
When Terren ignored Leopold’s words, Leopold paid no mind and moved toward him, preparing to cast healing magic himself. Terren Meyer muttered under his breath.
“I’ll do it myself.”
“Good thinking, Terren.”
In the end, Terren spent his own Mana to heal himself completely. Under ordinary circumstances, healing magic rarely results in a full recovery — it’s typically used only as a supplementary treatment. Leopold blinked in genuine surprise.
“How is that even possible? The wounds are completely gone.”
“They were shallow. That’s why.”
“Shallow or not, this magic doesn’t normally produce that kind of effect.”
It’s thanks to the Mana amplified by Dark Sorcery. Terren said nothing. Leopold’s eyes sparkled with admiration.
“Incredible. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.”
Leopold only knew the basic level magic taught at the Academy, so he had no way of noticing what was truly off — hence how he could marvel so freely.
Terren collapsed back down where he was. He was utterly exhausted — yet something transcending all of that washed over him. A joy.
Ten years, including his past life. He had achieved what he’d failed to achieve in ten long years.
Self-harm strengthens Dark Sorcery. Even more than killing a person.
The first time he had slashed his wrist after waking up had been a success. The second time, a failure. When he had choked himself, it was a success.
What is the connection between these?
His heart pounded, wild and uncontrollable. He lay awake through the entire night.
They spent the next day hunting monsters as well, from morning until night. Leopold, seemingly tireless, ultimately achieved the feat of killing every monster inhabiting the mountain. A truly remarkable person.
Just breaking down and hauling the carcasses took an enormous amount of time, and trading those carcasses for the bounty took even longer.
Terren arrived back at the Academy near the end of the night, his body covered in blood. In his hand was approximately 300 gold.
An extraordinary sum. It was the kind of money that could be compared not just to noble household budgets, but to royal expenditures. Bounties like that were posted because hunting a single monster required tremendous manpower. Honestly, without Leopold, there was no way they would have obtained this much so easily.
Only then did Leopold finally pull off his robe. He muttered.
“What should I do with the clothes.”
Whatever the case, they had spent two entire days together. Even in his past life, they had never exchanged this many words.
Terren Meyer walked up close to Leopold and snatched his blood-soaked robe from him.
Leopold looked surprised, then gave a faint smile.
“Thank you.”
Leopold Delua.
The first prince of the Kingdom of Delua. The legitimate firstborn son of the queen, and the first in line for the throne. Clever, and — as much as he resented admitting it — good, and in proportion to that goodness, hideously revolting.
Terren blinked. He stared at the blond boy in front of him.
He can’t die. Leopold Delua cannot be allowed to die.
Somehow, by any means necessary — just you, at least…
“Terren.”
He called quietly.
“At the Academy — if there’s ever something I truly need, can I come talk to you?”
Terren Meyer replied.
“…Do as you please.”
The first prince smiled. Terren looked away.
In his long or short life, he had never once seen that man smile at him like that, or speak to him like that.
Why on earth is he acting this way? His mood soured in an instant, and Terren Meyer turned on his heel. Leopold called after him.
“Take care.”
“Terren!”
A bright voice rang out. Terren, who had been gathering his books and trying to slip out of the classroom, flinched in surprise.
He glanced back cautiously, and there was a boy with a brilliant golden mane of hair grinning at him and waving.
Standing beside him was another boy — the pitiable Lloyd van Acker — glaring daggers at Terren Meyer with a deep scowl. Unluckily for him, he had lately found himself fated to keep coming face to face with the person he despised most in the world.
Terren Meyer said nothing. But he no longer ignored Leopold and walked past him the way he used to. Noticing the change, Leopold tossed a playful remark his way.
“You actually listen to me now.”
“Get to the point.”
“You’re as cold as ever. Come spar with me during swordsmanship class today.”
“No.”
Terren Meyer refused point-blank. There was nothing to gain from fighting — he’d just end up taking a beating and losing pathetically, and all the while he’d be standing next to the Academy’s most prominent figure for everyone to gawk at. How conspicuous would that be?
“Why?”
“I want to be left in peace.”
“Come somewhere quiet with me, then.”
“…Talk to me later. I have to get to my next class.”
“Our next class is in the same place.”
Leopold smiled brightly.
Damn it. Terren frowned as the prickling stares around them continued to grow.
He may have been shameless, but it was impossible not to feel irritated by the sheer volume of eyes now constantly trained on him.
It was the same right now. Cold gazes boring into him. The kind that said things like, What does a lowly commoner think he’s doing… And all of it was Leopold Delua’s fault.
After hunting monsters together, Leopold had started acting familiar with him. Inside the Academy, no less. At every possible opportunity.
At first, Terren had pushed back fiercely, telling him not to talk to him — but the more he did, the worse Leopold’s strange behavior became. The more Terren recoiled, the more Leopold seemed to enjoy it, laughing and doubling over in amusement. He kept talking to him without any sign of being deterred by Terren’s sharp tongue.
The hope of living quietly was already gone. That damned person repeated his eccentric behavior without the slightest concern for what others thought.
And then, once Terren became aware of the particularly revolting rumors that had started circulating… he decided to let everything go. After that, even the small amount of social awareness he’d had disappeared entirely. There was also the added entertainment of watching Lloyd’s face flush red right beside him, struggling to contain his fury.
He exhaled.
“Do as you please, then.”
“Hey, Leo… you always spar with me during swordsmanship class. What am I supposed to do?”
“That’s something you’ll have to figure out on your own. You think I don’t know how well-connected you are?”
“…That filthy commoner bastard.”
Leopold struck Lloyd van Acker across the mouth. Terren Meyer walked past them with a scornful smirk. Lloyd’s face flushed red. His dark reddish-brown eyes blazed with fury.
But why should I care? He’s not going to do anything about it anyway.
It was plain fact that his life had become easier thanks to Leopold.
Quite a lot of time had passed since Terren discovered the method to strengthen his Dark Sorcery — self-harm.
Summer break had come and gone first.
In that short span of only two weeks, Terren had been busy taking care of things that needed to be done.
The greatest achievement was figuring out the principle behind why Dark Sorcery grew stronger.
Even during the break, he had shut himself in the Academy, taking up a spot in a corner of the pine forest from morning to night and repeating experiment after experiment.
He inflicted wounds all over his body, incorporated magical formulas, and even used potions. As a result, within a single week, Terren Meyer was able to grow as strong as if he had killed dozens of people. The method was as follows.
First — killing intent directed at oneself strengthens Dark Sorcery.
But there was no way self-loathing would suddenly surge on its own while simply sitting still. Borrowing the power of potions and magic, he first created apparitions using illusion magic.
The mistakes he had made throughout his life. The people he had faced…
