Chapter 52
“Attack of the Masked Ones”
[Kingdom of Schemes and Shadows – Part III]
Evening.
I stepped out through the academy gates.
Long shadows stretched across the cobblestones, and a pale golden hue lingered at the edge of the sky.
At the corner of the path leading to the dormitory—
The wind stopped for just a moment.
“Foreigner.”
A voice like a needle pricked my back.
When I turned, three figures were blocking the mouth of the alley.
Masks. Black cloaks.
A faint light shimmered in their palms.
Their magical stance was crude, but their numbers made up for it.
“Kai Cross. We warned you.”
The man in the center brushed a finger through the air.
The atmosphere rippled—crackling sparks burst forth.
(Here we go.)
Kai set his heel against the stone.
With his right foot, he traced an invisible line.
“Establish the formula. Three opponents, outputs uneven. Align the waves—then offset.”
He muttered a quiet count under his breath.
Instead of raising his hand, he gave verbal commands.
“Cancel with cosine. Disperse with sine. A thirty-degree phase shift will do.”
The three masked men released their light all at once.
It tangled like threads, bent, then—before it could untangle—fell back toward their own feet.
A damp spark cracked on the pavement, scorching the hems of their cloaks.
“Wha—”
“What is—”
“This is just an application of what we do in class.”
Kai sighed, shoulders dropping.
“Don’t turn my walk home into a proficiency test. I’m not grading it.”
“Don’t get cocky, foreigner.”
One of them drew a short sword.
A thin membrane of magic coated the blade.
Fast.
The slash was direct—no hesitation.
“A straight line, huh.”
Kai stepped back half a pace.
He raised his right hand diagonally, forming a panel of air.
The moment the blade touched it, he twisted the angle fifteen degrees.
The force slipped away; the sword bit harmlessly into the stone.
A chill pressed against his throat.
(Second one.)
Before the footsteps circling behind him reached his ears, a clear sound rang from the other end of the street.
“Step away from Kai.”
A gust of sword wind swept through the alley.
Rutia had drawn her slender blade and knocked the attacker’s strike aside from the flank.
Sparks scattered; the masked man staggered.
“I won’t let you lay a finger on my master.”
Her voice was calm, her blade still.
Still—but somewhere deep, one could hear the sea’s tide rising and falling.
The three masked figures exchanged glances.
Retreat or advance?
That instant of hesitation was broken by another voice from the alley’s entrance.
“What’s going on here?”
Leon appeared, the hem of his black uniform flicking behind him.
Beside him, Filia quietly shaped a sigil of light.
“Drawing blades in front of the academy… not the best of hobbies.”
The masked men clicked their tongues.
They released a thin puff of smoke at their feet, obscuring the view, then turned and fled.
Their shadows unraveled, and the sound of their steps melted into the darkness along the wall.
Beyond the fading smoke, Rutia’s sword tip trembled faintly.
The tension drained away.
Kai exhaled, easing his shoulders.
“You saved me.”
“No—you saved me. Because you shifted their phase, my sword reached in time.”
“I just followed what was written on the lecture board.”
“And that boardwork keeps us alive.”
Leon stepped closer, eyes on the scorch marks on the ground.
His golden hair caught the evening light, splitting into distinct bands of brightness and shadow.
Filia gently tugged Kai’s sleeve.
“Are you hurt, Professor?”
“I’m fine.”
“…Good.”
A small smile bloomed on her face, softening her features.
That glow smoothed another stone lodged somewhere deep in Kai’s chest.
“I’ll escort you to the dorm.”
Leon’s tone wasn’t a command—it was a proposal.
“Having a prince as a bodyguard’s a bit much, ain’t it?”
“The academy is my garden. Protecting one’s own garden is a master’s duty.”
The four of them walked.
With each step on the cobblestones, their shadows lengthened and shrank again.
When the dorm lights came into view, Rutia’s smile deepened slightly.
“Hey, Kai.”
“What is it?”
“Tomorrow, the inspector is coming to observe your class. Let’s make sure they leave utterly bored.”
“Bored?”
“Yes. Your lectures are perfectly structured—no gaps, no flaws, nothing to exploit.
So I want them to say, ‘How dull.’”
(That’s a wicked smile.)
(And I might just like it.)
“Then it’s a problem of optimizing boredom.”
“You can solve it, can’t you?”
“Sure. As long as there’s a blackboard.”
The night breeze was a touch gentler than before.
Kai placed his hand on the dormitory door.
Behind him, Rutia whispered softly.
“Kai!”
He turned.
She stepped closer by one pace, her voice sinking to a whisper.
“Don’t carry it all alone.”
The words were short—but they sank deep.
Kai gave a small nod and pushed the door open.
Beyond the light waited his desk, stacked notebooks, and a jar brimming with candies.
(Tomorrow, the blackboard. And the next day too.)
(Even if I can’t solve the world, I can solve the lesson.)
Outside the window, the insects’ chorus faded.
The night was still long.
The shadows had begun to move.
But morning in the classroom would always come.
