When the letters became difficult to see, I looked up from my notes and saw the sun gone and darkness fallen. Another sign of the winter’s steady approach in the northern lands.

  I brainstormed on useful applications for space magic, but with only one volume of the series to lean on, my understanding of the element wasn't deep enough to give it form. It was easy enough to invent a thousand and one things that you'd want the magic to do, but if the ideal was too far removed from the boundaries of the genuine phenomenon, it wouldn't happen. The fact that I couldn’t conjure doorways to distant places, or make things shrink or grow at will, meant that there were still too many gaps in my understanding of “space.”

  That which isn't known cannot be made…

  I was going to need the other parts of the research.

  And that meant I’d have to go politely ask Professor Couren for them.

  “Tch…”

  I so didn’t want to. Only imagining that man’s face made me want to blow up something. I tossed my pen away and went to turn on the ceiling lamp.

  The lamp had a small tank of processed starktree oil, a solution which could store mana, and which the magic circle engraved onto the rod of copper inside consumed to emit light. But as it aged, the oil’s capacity to store mana degraded. The one in my room barely burned for forty-five minutes before it had to be recharged yet again. My awful energy control wore the chemistry down even faster, and each time I recharged the lamp, it would last a few minutes less than before. We were counting down to a total blackout before midwinter.

  I’d asked Manager Ruby for a replacement lamp, but the school was all out. Apparently, this particular model had ended production, superseded by a new, supposedly more economical model. But adopting the new type lamps necessitated replacing all the bulb sockets in every room school-wide, and the board was stuck arguing about the renovation budget. They probably wouldn’t get the green light before the new year.

  It seemed I’d have to go shopping for candles, or else steal someone else’s lamp.

  Then someone knocked on the door. I wished it were the dwarven manager bringing me a fresh lamp she’d miraculously salvaged from somewhere, but my hopes were dashed. It was just Emily.

  “Hi-hi, Boss! Can I come in?” the girl greeted me, merrily smiling. “Eeh, why are you sighing!? What bad have I done now?”

  “Nothing. It’s only a personal problem. Is something the matter?”

  “Noooot really.” Emily shifted to a falsely innocent act, hands behind her back. “Just thought I’d stop by for a quick update.”

  She phrased it like she was busy running around here and there all the time. Even though it was getting so late and she was alone.

  “You shouldn’t move around too much after dark,” I cautioned her.

  “Aw, are you worried about me?” she leaned over to inquire impishly.

  “I always worry about you.”

  You do have royal assassins after you—I didn’t want to scare Emily by outright telling her that. The knowledge would’ve been enough to turn even the bravest warrior into a nervous wreck within a week, and she wasn’t especially robust mentally. She’d only make more mistakes when under stress.

  Emily blinked at me, turning pink.

  “...You sure don’t pull any punches. Where do you find that bravery, really?”

  What was she talking about?

  “I can look after myself!” she insisted and sauntered past me into the room like into her own house, and took a seat on the bunk on the left with her own permission. “I’m a big gal, alright. Darkness doesn’t scare me at all! So don’t you worry 'bout a thing.”

  “‘Pride goeth before destruction,’” I recited a quote from the mouth of some soldier long ago as I closed the door. “Try to keep that in mind. It’s something of a professional disease among mages. Especially those with unusual talent.”

  “Thanks for thinking I have talent. Want to do my history essay for me?”

  “No.”

  “Figures!”

  “Since I’m the ‘boss’, shouldn’t you volunteer to do mine instead?”

  “I was thinking about going independent, actually…”

  “Fine by me,” I said and held up the spinning fire I'd made in the element class. “Death is the only way out of this alliance.”

  “You didn’t mention it was going to be a lifelong commitment! Poof!”

  Emily reached out and extinguished the flame with her own magic, which laid the frenzied atoms instantaneously to rest. My shoddy spell couldn’t last. It seemed her phenomenon control had improved considerably since summer. I didn’t even get any condensate on my fingers. At least her time in Belmesion wasn’t wasted.

  “That makes it sound like marriage...” Emily mumbled, averting her eyes.

  “Even you dream of such things?”

  “What do you mean, even me? Am I giving off some kind of eternal loner-vibes!? Doesn’t every girl think about that day, at least once or twice in her life? Wearing a super pretty, super expensive dress and diamond rings, getting gifts from everybody, everybody treating you like a princess, all your loved ones smiling and laughing, eating tons of delicious food, and a really, really, really big cream cake…”

  Emily described her ideal wedding day with a hungry look, fully omitting what I thought was the main point of the ceremony.

  “I see,” I remarked. “I hope you get to experience that sometime. For real.”

  Though I had to doubt I’d be there then.

  “Hm?”

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  “And then? Did you have something to tell me, or was this just a social visit?”

  “Ah, right, right! I did have a real report to make. It was his brother!”

  So the lady said, an accomplished smile on her face and then fell expectantly quiet, proud, like waiting for applause. But I thought the conversation needed a little more context than that and frowned at her.

  “Who?”

  “Come on! The guy we saw with Rafel in the city! I asked him about it earlier today. He told me the big guy he was with back then was his older brother, from his home village.”

  Now I was finally able to connect the dots that had stood much too far apart. And Emily's so-called report knocked the air out of me.

  “You did what…?”

  “Yeah, I know you told me not to make any moves by myself, but I figured I'd spare us some effort. Since I see the guy every damn day in class, and so. He’s not such a bad dude, really! And he answered me without making it weird, too. Well, aren't you glad? Rafel’s from a country called Tassetia, apparently. He said their wizards are like, really old-fashioned and secretive, and they didn't think he was worthy of their teachings, so he came abroad to study the Art with us. And his brother dropped by to check up on him last weekend, so they met in Canelon for a bit of sightseeing together. They're all real worried at home about how he's doing in a foreign land. Isn't that so nice?”

  I took off my glasses and rubbed my tired eyes. It was my fault for not explaining things properly. I didn't want to involve Emily in this, but I didn't think she'd jump right into it on her own.

  Oblivious to my mental exhaustion, the girl carried on, showing off her sleuth work,

  “He was so surprised when I asked if his brother was really a Swordmaster. He was like, ‘How could you know that!?’ You should've seen his face! Haha! I said I just kinda had a hunch like that, since he looked so macho and had a nice body. ‘Call it woman’s intuition!’ Don't worry, I didn't mention you—Umm, Boss? What's wrong? Why are you making a face like that?”

  It could be considered confidential from the perspective of national security, but maybe it was better to tell her a bit more now, before she went and made things any worse.

  “Okay. Emily. Please listen to me.”

  She sat up straight and tensed. “Y-yeah? What's wrong?”

  “You remember how my mother is a general of the Royal Army, right?”

  “Sure I do. Why?”

  “The other day, she actually called me home to warn me that a group of Tarachian commandos could be planning a terror strike on Belmesion, and to be on guard.”

  Emily’s jaw fell. “You're joking!”

  “I wish. Tassetia, which your classmate mentioned, is a province of the West Empire. That boy is a Tarachian. Well, Tassetia was one of the moderate states. No major battles took place in their territory during the war. That's probably why Siroquan chose to name it as his home. He couldn't fully deny his heritage, so he at least wanted to avoid any military association. But that only makes the lie more obvious. Men of his age were drafted from all provinces, whether directly threatened or not. His physique by itself makes it clear he’s received armed training. In fact, I believe almost everything he told you was false. As if that man in the capital could've been his biological brother. They looked nothing alike, and any Tarachian sword clan would disown shamans. The division of castes there is even stricter than here. It’s extremely unlikely they met for any mundane reason. I'm now almost certain Siroquan knows something about the terrorists, or could even be their advance scout.”

  “For real?”

  “Yes.”

  “You're messing with me.”

  “Occasionally, yes. But this is serious.”

  “Why didn't you tell me all that before!?”

  “Because I very foolishly wanted to keep you out of this, for your own safety.”

  “So, what happens now?”

  “Now, you're a marked girl, Emily. You went and told this suspicious person to his face that you're onto him. He can't leave you be, or the whole school might find out about his ‘brother.’ The information that there's an undercover Tarachian Swordmaster in the country would be valued very highly in certain circles. Outsiders mustn’t catch wind of it. So he’ll need to shut you up, one way or another.”

  Emily's earlier sunny demeanor was gone, and she slumped against her knees, head hanging.

  “I'm dead…I'm so dead…”

  I brushed my chin and thought.

  “No, maybe this actually works to our advantage.”

  “You’re awful!”

  “Not you dying; the fact that you told him. You said you didn't mention me at any point in your conversation, is that right?”

  “No, I didn't. Since you said you didn't want attention…”

  “Good. That was well done. It gives us some room to maneuver.”

  If she told Siroquan I was the one who identified his brother, he would come after me first. I'd have no control over when and how he'd make contact, and either one of us could end up dead. But now we had that advantage.

  “I’ve been racking my brain half the week over how to best isolate and trap the guy, but now we need to trap you instead. So it makes things much easier.”

  “Hang on, me!?” Emily wailed. “Why are we trapping me!?”

  “Think. Siroquan wants to make sure you stay quiet and out of his way, but how? Killing a student in the middle of the academy is clearly too risky, without some magical method to dispose of the body. But there aren't many such techniques that leave no evidence behind, and he doesn't seem so powerful to me. Before resorting to murder, he’ll probably try to scare you first. So if we set up a situation where you’re alone and subtly let him know the time and place, he'll be certain to take the bait. Only, what he doesn’t know is...that you won't actually be alone then.”

  “Ooh!” Emily’s stress shifted to enlightenment in the span of a heartbeat. “Now I see! You sound like you've done this kind of thing before!”

  Previously last week.

  “And as to where you're going to be…” I took the training room key from my skirt pocket and passed it to Emily’s hands. “This should do the trick. I'll let you work out how to frame it on your own. Just make sure nobody else gets involved.”

  She took the key and squeezed it in her fist.

  “I still can't believe Rafel is a terrorist, but—what if he really is? And what if he's so tough that not even the two of us can beat him? This could be seriously bad. I get it's not very heroic, but don't you think we should go to the faculty with this instead? Let them handle it?”

  “We could. But are you fine with that?”

  “Me? Why?”

  “At the moment, this is still only a theory. I have a strong suspicion, but no hard evidence. There’s still a non-zero chance of being mistaken. It’s to make sure that I want to talk to him in person first. What do you think will happen to your classmate if we report him to the authorities as a terrorist suspect? I can tell you: guilty or innocent, his life will be over. He will never become a mage and should be glad if he sees the light of day again. Are you willing to take responsibility for ruining a possibly innocent man’s life? A classmate you just described as ‘not so bad?’”

  Emily swallowed. Then she put the key in her pocket.

  “... Let's talk to him and make sure.”

  “Thought so.”

  And even if he turned out to be a rotten apple, I had to doubt he was any more dangerous than a royal assassin.

  Then, without warning, the ceiling lamp died, its mana charge once again depleted. Darkness fell in the room, so deep I could barely see my hand. From the black, Emily's unnerved voice soon spoke up.

  “You know, when I said I wasn't afraid of the dark, that—that was a lie!”