TPCF 45

CHAPTER 45……….

A young Edmund’s tutor?
Even if she were paid ten thousand ridels a month, Anita doubted she could do it. He was still this unruly even now—how much worse must he have been as a child?

In her mind’s eye, Anita saw a little blond boy darting this way and that, golden hair flying, as he tried to escape from his tutor.

Not exactly the kind of student anyone would want.

“Come on, we’ve got to go celebrate our victory.”

“Huh? Where are we going?”

When Edmund gave her a playful push forward, Anita glanced back at him with a puzzled look. He winked.

“Didn’t I say I know a place that sells the best beer?”

“…What if we die of alcohol poisoning?”

Anita asked seriously, but Edmund answered without the slightest hesitation.

“Then that’s just how it is.”

Alcohol really was terrifying. On any other day she would have dismissed such nonsense out of hand, but right now it actually sounded tempting. Clearly, reason eroded by alcohol wasn’t doing its job.

“Well… I suppose so.”

The clock’s hands were nearing four. It was that quiet hour when only the rare few diligent souls were awake.

The man sat studying with several thick books open in front of him. But he wasn’t diligent—he wasn’t someone who had risen early to start his day, but rather someone who still hadn’t managed to finish it.

His gaze, fixed on words that refused to register, drifted inevitably to the clock.

3:56.

The person who had kept him awake all this time, the one he’d been stewing over with his head in his hands—was she sleeping peacefully by now? Probably. Her room lights always went out early.

3:58.

Rutger Veiland set his pen down. He hadn’t intended to study from the start. But gripping an unused pen, opening books he wouldn’t read—it gave him an excuse. Proof that he hadn’t spent the whole night obsessing over a problem with no answer.

He grabbed the coat hanging on the back of his chair, shrugged into it, and left his room. He told himself he was simply starting his day a little early. It was too late to try and sleep now anyway.

A quiet walk at dawn—that was his plan.

If only that bizarre cry hadn’t rung out.

“No…!”

“Don’t die!”

Die?

What in the world was going on? Murder, here, in the middle of the city?

He had no desire to meddle in other people’s affairs, but if it was something serious—like a killing—he couldn’t just walk away. Rutger searched his pockets for anything that could serve as a weapon. All he found were a few useless scraps of paper.

“Stay with me!”

The stranger’s voice broke, choked with sobs now. Just then Rutger’s hand brushed against something sharp in his pocket—a carving knife. He must have absentmindedly left it there after class.

Clutching the knife, he made his way toward the source of the voice. It even sounded vaguely familiar, though this wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

Parting the bushes where the commotion came from, Rutger saw only the back of someone’s head in the dim moonlight. Golden hair shimmered faintly—it struck him as familiar.

The suspicious figure was bent over, muttering frantically for someone to wake up. Following the man’s gaze, Rutger’s eyes landed on strands of sleek black hair scattered across the grass. His heart lurched, and without another thought, he lunged forward.

“Huh?”

Rutger pressed the knife blade to the man’s throat. The stranger let out a stupid sound, craning his head back to look up at him.

“Uh… you look familiar. Who are you again?”

Rutger had no time to consider who he was. His eyes darted instead to the figure lying in the grass—and just as he’d feared, it was Anita. Under the moonlight she looked paler and frailer than ever.

Only after confirming she bore no obvious wounds, and that her chest was still rising and falling, did Rutger withdraw the blade from Edmund’s neck.

He shoved the nuisance aside and knelt beside Anita. For a long while he leaned close, listening to her steady breaths, catching the faint scent of alcohol on her. At last he straightened.

“She’s not dead, is she?”

Edmund’s voice quavered as he asked, face crumpled in worry. Rutger rubbed his forehead in exasperation. The man looked half-unhinged.

He wanted to lash out—What were you doing while she ended up like this?—but held back. Anita, despite appearances, could be stubborn. She wouldn’t have listened even if Edmund had tried to stop her.

“She’s alive, so quit panicking.”

Now that he had time to take a proper look, Rutger realized this man was the student council president. But the title didn’t inspire respect—in fact, it made him more contemptuous. A senior, a president, and yet he’d let a junior end up like this?

And Rutger wasn’t pleased about how close Anita had grown to him lately, either.

He looked at Edmund with cold eyes. A flimsy man, unworthy of his impressive title. Too indecisive to rein in a reckless underclassman. Or maybe he’d never even tried.

If Rutger hadn’t stumbled across her, Anita might have been left lying here in the cold dawn air until sunrise. The thought only deepened his distaste for the man before him.

He shoved Edmund aside again and gathered Anita into his arms.

“Ugh…”

Her eyelids fluttered faintly. Beads of cold sweat dotted her brow. Rutger laid her carefully out along a nearby bench. His eyes drifted down to her ankle—and froze. One of them was badly swollen.

Even with moonlight, it was hard to see clearly in the dark. Perhaps it was a trick of the shadows. But under the glow of a streetlamp, his worst suspicion proved true: Anita’s right ankle was red and swollen compared to the left.

“Ha…”

What on earth had she been doing to end up like this?

“What the—? Why’s her ankle like that?”