Poop Bastard

NU

I looked down at the academy gardens and narrowed my eyes behind my glasses.

By all rights, I should’ve been attending this school as a second-year student. Up until the very day I was cast aside as a victim of Possession, I’d never doubted for a second that my future would be anything but peaceful and predictable.

But in the end, it was all just a pretty little lie.

My family, my friends, my peace—every "normal" thing I’d taken for granted had been part of a tower built on the thinnest, most fragile ice imaginable. I’d been nothing more than a frolicking child, completely oblivious to the dark, freezing depths waiting beneath my feet.

I watched the students wandering through the garden with a gaze that sat somewhere between envy and pity. I even spotted a few familiar faces in the crowd. As the daughter of a marquess, I used to be quite the social butterfly. My days were once filled with glitz and glamour.

Now? That felt like a lifetime ago.

I’d been scrubbed from the marquess’s family history, relegated to a "person who never existed." I wondered how many of those people I once called friends actually remembered me. “Oh, her? I think I remember a girl like that,” they’d probably say.

Honestly, they’d probably only whisper about me with more contempt than affection. That’s just how the world treats the "possessed."

I didn’t actually need to sneak into the academy during the day just to meet with Shadow. I just... I couldn't quite let go of that tiny, pathetic sliver of hope. I wanted to indulge in the foolish dream that some small corner of this peaceful school still had a place for me.

I let out a short, self-deprecating laugh.

Even if I had no place in the "official" world, I had comrades who shared my resolve. And... I had my revered master standing right beside me.

He’d started this fight all on his own. And even if he ended up as the last man standing, I knew he’d keep on fighting. His very existence was the pillar supporting all of Shadow Garden.

Humans are weak creatures, so we naturally gravitate toward something absolute to cling to. If God is that absolute for the rest of the world, then for Shadow Garden, it’s him.

Personally, I think he’s way better than God. If I open my eyes, he’s actually there. If I reach out, I can actually touch him.

“Hmm? Something wrong?” he asked.

“You have a bit of trash on you.”

I reached over and plucked a stray piece of lint from his shoulder. I kept my eyes on his profile as I continued.

“Please keep my presence here a secret from Lady Gamma. If she finds out I’ve been infiltrating the academy during the day, she’ll be furious with me.”

“Got it. I have to say, I’m impressed. You look like a completely different person with that makeup.”

“My features are a bit plain, so it’s easy to change my look. Call it a skill from my past life—I’ve always been quite good with a brush.”

“Heh. So that look you use at Mitsugoshi Company is a fake too?”

“Yes. I make myself look a bit older than I actually am.”

“I see. So, out of curiosity, how old are you really?”

“That’s a secret.” I gave him a playful, suggestive smile. “Anyway, I’m here to report on the man in black from yesterday.”

“Hmm.”

“We interrogated him, but we couldn't get anything out of him. His mind was already shattered by heavy brainwashing. Based on our observations, we believe he was a Children 3rd of the Cult of Diabolos.”

“Hmm?”

Ah, the Diabolos Children.

The Cult of Diabolos makes a habit of snatching up orphans or poor commoner children the moment they show even a hint of Magic Power aptitude. They raise them in specialized facilities where they’re subjected to endless training, brainwashing, and experimental drug regimens. They say less than ten percent of them even survive to "graduate." The Children 3rd are the failures of that process—disposable pawns. Their broken minds ensure they can't leak secrets, yet their combat prowess still dwarfs that of your average knight.

The 2nd types have more stable psyches, while the 1st types—the rare few—possess world-class strength.

Of course, Lord Shadow already knows all of this. I didn't want to bore him by explaining the basics, so I moved on.

“It’s obvious that the shadow of The Cult is behind this string of incidents. I imagine their goal is to lure us out into the open.”

“Hmm.”

“But that’s not their only objective. We recently confirmed that a Named Children 1st has entered the Royal Capital. Specifically, Rex—the ‘Game of Rebellion.’ We believe they’re mobilizing for a specific purpose, but we’ve lost Rex’s trail. We’re currently investigating his whereabouts.”

“Hmm?”

The Named Children.

That’s a title given to those among the Diabolos Children who have performed exceptionally for the organization. Most of the Named are 1st types, though once in a blue moon, a 2nd will earn the title. Some of them even climb the ranks to become members of the Knights of Rounds. In fact, being Named is considered the gateway to the Rounds.

And, of course... Shadow Garden currently has a former Named Children 1st in our own ranks.

Since I was the one who provided that info to the organization in the first place, I figured there was no need to recap it for him.

“Please stay on your guard. The Cult is definitely plotting something. We’ll continue our investigation and report back as soon as we have a lead.”

“Hmm.”

The sun began to dip below the horizon, the afterglow staining the clouds a deep madder red. I stood up, fanning my slightly damp neck. Beside me, my master stretched and stood as well.

Maybe, in another life, we could have spent our days like this—chatting like a normal couple and enjoying the academy life. I laughed at myself for being so sentimental.

But, just for a moment...

“Well? A gentleman should really escort his lady, shouldn't he?”

“An escort? Like this?”

He offered his left arm, and I looped mine through it. We started walking, huddled close together. Yeah, I thought, smiling to myself, a future like this definitely should have existed.

Then, from across the grounds, a male student started screaming at the top of his lungs.

“YOU POOP BASTARD!!”

I clicked my tongue, the mood instantly shattered. I recognized that voice—and that face. He was a piece of trash who used to hit on me incessantly back in my socialite days. I made a mental note to track him down and beat him within an inch of his life later.

For some reason, my master’s eyes started darting around awkwardly.

I just hugged his arm tighter.