Side Story: A Scene From Class on a Certain Day, Year Four

Another day begins, and with it comes another necessary lesson in magic.

“Now then, for today’s lesson, I’ll be teaching you about psychomagic.”

Professor Bordon claps his hands together as he stands at the podium.

Outside, all I can see, unfortunately, is rain. While I can hear the faint, quiet sounds of the gentle drizzle coming down from the gray skies covering the Isle, inside the classroom it’s as bright as always, the lanterns hanging from above casting us all in an artificial light at odds with the world outside.

Sitting next to the window, I occasionally look out at the rain as I tap my fingers on the cover of my textbook. My hair feels as though it’s absorbing the humidity in the air, and I can feel the slight moisture in it as I run my fingers through a few strands.

“The spell we’ll be learning about today doesn’t have an entry in your textbooks, so we’re just going to be taking some notes before I have you launch into practicing the magic yourselves.”

The professor makes a show of shutting the textbook he’s holding with a snap. He’s our homeroom teacher, so we’re used to his theatricality. I stop tapping my textbook and glance up at him. One of the noble boys sitting towards the front raises his hand to ask a question.

“What is ‘psychomagic’?”

Psychomagic. I think I’ve seen a book with that title in the library, on the shelf with the psychology books. I think I might have even read it already.

On the psychology shelf, there had been many books that discussed how the psychology of the caster could affect the spell, rather than how a spell could affect the target’s psychology. The books almost had that tone of a moralizing treatise, preaching on about how the emotional state of the caster could drastically change the outcome of the spell, how that emotional variance was accounted for in the structure of spellwork, and emphasizing the importance of keeping one’s physical, mental, and emotional state in a stable balance whenever one used magic.

I’d spent a lot of time in the library studying. At some point, I’d decided to read every single book in there, and I’m currently in the process of working my way through all the shelves one by one. The library is quite large, and while I’ve read a considerable number of the books, it seems like it’s going to take all the way until the end of my sixth year to finish them all. I’d mastered the psychology shelf in my third year, and I seem to recall there being a book called “Concerning Psychomagic.”

“Psychomagic is about discerning someone else’s deep thoughts or feelings. Essentially, it’s a spell that allows you to figure out their true intentions. You can’t use this spell without a mirror, however.”

“A mirror?”

“You turn the mirror to face the person you want to cast the spell on, so that their face appears in the reflection. If you’ve successfully cast the spell, you will be able to force out the honest answer to any question you might ask of the castee—only, it will be the reflection that talks.”

“So what you’re saying is that my reflection is going to talk to the caster, no matter what I do?”

“What?! I don’t want to do this.”

“It sounds awful!”

All of them sound distinctly unenthusiastic about practicing this spell. Some of them are flat out refusing to do so.

Well, figures, doesn’t it? With a spell like that, “they” will be forced to answer questions they’d rather not, and in the hands of someone with ill intent, it could end quite badly.

But this spell, could it...?

“What are you all clapping your traps about? This spell isn’t that simple to cast. There’re some who take two, three, even ten years before they can pull it off.”

So that’s why he doesn’t seem particularly concerned about having a bunch of students practice this spell.

Psychomagic is an extremely sophisticated and subtle field of magic. You have to manipulate a completely normal mirror at the same time you trap the target in your spell. It’s said to be one of the most difficult spells to pull off.

“Not only must you control the magic of the spell itself, you must also force your target to surrender to your will.”

“Surrender to your will?”

“You gotta dominate them mentally. This spell is used in the Kingdom’s Courthouse and the Order of Knights to both compel criminals to confess and to determine the truth of witness testimony. It’s a very sophisticated type of magic.”

“How do you make the target ‘surrender’?”

“Hm? Oh, that—all you have to do is make them think, even for a second, that you have the upper hand in the situation. Make them quiver in self-doubt, just for a moment.”

Professor Bordon is giving us all a rather cruel grin of anticipation as he says this.

“Well, that should be easy.”

One of the nearby students seems quite confident that he can perform this spell successfully.

“Oh really? Think you can do it? You don’t know if it’s easy until you try. Even if you force a mental surrender, there are a ton of other things you need to pay attention to.”

If you pay too much attention to overwhelming your target, you’ll forget to pay attention to ensuring the spell is properly cast on the mirror.

“Right now, I’m going to pass out one mirror to each pair. Use it with the person next to you.”

In front of the teacher’s podium is a brown box. I’d wondered what was inside, but once the teacher lifts up the lid I can see that it’s filled with dozens of round mirrors, which come floating out of the box and into the air. With another gesture from the professor, those floating mirrors fly to our desks, one for each pair of students.

I snatch the mirror that is floating down towards Rockmann and me with one hand.

“Ugh...”

‘The person next to you.’ In other words, I have to work with him.

After four years of sitting next to each other, we had gotten used to situations like this, but still, I can’t help the fact that I want to click my tongue in disgust at the prospect of having to work with this idiot, yet again.

After the professor taught us the words and gestures needed for the incantation, we were instructed to attempt to cast the spell on the person sitting next to us, both at the same time.

With a direct instruction like that from the professor, I wouldn’t be allowed to protest. Up until a moment ago I’d kept my knees turned as far away from him as possible, but at the professor’s command I slowly, reluctantly, turn so that my whole body faces the guy to my right.

I don’t want to admit this out loud, but there’s a high probability his spell will work on me. I’ve never seen him fail to cast a spell, not once. Somehow, I’ve managed to keep up with him and haven’t screwed up my spellwork in class yet, but still... I can feel the stares of literally every other student in the classroom turning around to look at us. Every single time we have a class like this, they seem to think that the two of us will be able to pull it off, no matter how difficult the spell. Even Prince Zenon, who’s sitting at the desk directly in front of us, doesn’t even attempt to conceal his interest as he turns around to look at Rockmann and me.

“Gotta force your opponent to surrender, huh?” Rockmann has a rather vicious glint in his eyes. “I’ll be generous enough to cast the spell first, then.”

How typical of him. “Well, don’t I have you in the palm of my hand! There’s no way I’m going to let you use that spell on me!”

Rockmann lifts one eyebrow at me as he points his index finger in the air, spinning it round and round. He looks completely relaxed. Just how does he think he’s going to succeed in casting that spell on me? And why does he have such a disgusting smile on his face? Probably thinking of some awful question. This guy really pisses me off.

“Okay, so, face me.”

“Hmph.”

This is a spell that requires eye contact, so I turn to face Rockmann. I don’t really want to see his stupid face, though, so I keep my eyes closed.

“Um, could you, like, actually look at me?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever...”

“Don’t speak to me in that tone of voice.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever...”

There’s no way I can get out of this. Slowly, I open my eyes, and look at Rockmann. Technically I am looking at Rockmann’s eyes.

His eyes are, as ever, a sharp contrast to my own, his crimson red pupils flashing back at me. Fire-types must have a lot of reddish physical characteristics, because Maris is a Fire-type as well, and she has red hair. Now that I think about it, Benjamine has a reddish tinge to her hair, so it must be a unique trait to Fire-types... or so I am thinking, allowing myself to get mentally sidetracked as I stare into those crimson eyes.

“Paguraata, paguraata.” (Open your heart, open your mind.)

Rockmann begins to chant the incantation and turns the mirror to face me. He’s staring right back into my eyes and looks like he is taking this all quite seriously.

“Parageetedouuna.” (Your spirit is mine.)

Each time he chants the incantation, his golden hair, which looks as though it was just cut yesterday, flutters a bit above his shoulders.

“Hey, look at me, properly.”

“I am looking.”

I am absolutely not going to let him pull this off. The professor had said that there were other elements necessary for the spell to succeed, besides achieving a sort of mental domination of your target, but I think Rockmann, more so than any other student here, has what it takes to cast this spell.

If I continue resisting him, that means the spell won’t take. As long as I believe I am either just as good or better than this guy, I have nothing to fear from him.

I am better than you, I am better than you, I am better than you... I repeat those words in my mind as I glare at Rockmann.

“...What an ugly face you’re making,” he says, finally.

“Stuuuupid. I’m not going to fall for that.”

He’s begun teasing me, so without the slightest hesitation I retort back at him. He’s probably trying to get me angry. As if I’d be done in by such a juvenile strategy.

All my efforts must have been worth it, because finally, after several long moments, he gave up. He’d failed to cast the spell on me.

“It’s pointless trying to use psychomagic on the Ice Idiot. She’s far too stubborn.”

You betcha. As if anyone else would surrender to you anyway!

This isn’t the first time he’s called me “Ice Idiot,” so I’m going to let that slide this time, generous victor that I am.

“So there are some things you’re bad at, aren’t there, Alois?”

Prince Zenon, who’s been watching us this entire time, is laughing at the sulky expression on Rockmann’s face. I’d like to join in with a high-pitched laugh of sneering superiority of my own, but I’ll hold off on that until I finish casting the spell on him. I ball my hands up into fists to pump myself up. I’m so giddy right now, looking at Rockmann, who failed to cast the spell on me, that I feel as though I might leap out of my seat and start dancing out of spite. Although, if I fail too, I don’t even want to think about what he’d call me then.

“So it’s my turn next. Look over here.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever...”

You, idiot, were the one who said I shouldn’t speak in that tone of voice, or did you forget that? I push away the thought and try to calm my mind.

“Paguraata, paguraata.”

It’s unpleasant, but I force myself to look Rockmann in the eye once more. Just who in the world wants to spend their whole day looking their worst enemy in the eye? I try to rationalize it away, thinking, I’m only doing this so that I can learn more about magic.

While I’m reciting the incantation, however, I need to also be paying attention to the mirror—but right then, for a reason I can’t discern, something very banal crosses my mind:

“You are no longer... no longer...”

It’s what Benjamine was mumbling to herself in her sleep this morning.

“You are no longer—a pig.”

What kind of dream must she have been having? Nikeh and I had quietly gotten out of bed early and sat quite close to Benjamine as she muttered, bursting out laughing at her words. It must be those red eyes of his that made me think of Benjamine. Why else would that memory spring to mind right now?

It’s easy to understand why I’m being distracted by other thoughts, lost in the color of those crimson eyes as I am.

“Hehe,” I giggle at the memory in the middle of my incantation. “Oops, I can’t think about that right now.”

Focus, Nanalie, focus on the spell. Rockmann is going to make you out to be an even bigger fool for giggling during the spell if you mess it up.

I know that this lack of focus is one of my major weaknesses, or should I say character flaws, and I reprimand myself for losing concentration—but then I realize there’s something odd about Rockmann’s appearance.

“Huh?”

His expression is frozen, as if time itself has stopped, not changing in the slightest. I try waving one hand in front of his face, but he doesn’t react.

Have I just...? No, it couldn’t have been that easy. That’s ridiculous.

As a test, I try asking him something.

“What is your name?”

“Alois Hades Arnold Rockmann.”

The one that responds is not Rockmann himself, but his reflection in the mirror. It’s the deep voice of a man who’s fully matured.

“Wow! Nanalie, you did it!”

Professor Bordon must have been watching us along with the rest of the students, because now he’s clapping. I feel an even stronger interest in the stares from the other students now. Rockmann seems to have noticed their gazes as well, because somehow I can tell that he is extremely uncomfortable. His face is still frozen in its earlier expression, but somehow, I can tell he isn’t enjoying this.

My jaw is slack at the fact that I’ve successfully cast a spell that Rockmann failed at.

“Hehehe, what kind of question should I ask...?”

“You’ve got an ugly face.”

Rockmann’s reflection has begun speaking again.

I get it. Essentially, he’s always going around telling me exactly what he thinks of me, so even under this spell, it’s no different. Whenever we fight or get paired up in class, it’s always the same barrage of insults, and not much else. Still irritating, though.

One of the noble girls nudges me. “Hel, you know what to ask, right?”

“What’s that?”

I’d been just about to ask Rockmann some random question, when I notice that some noble girl sitting diagonally across from me is looking at me with stars in her eyes. Actually, all of the noble girls in the class are looking at me in the same way right now. What in the world is going on?

“Hel!”

Maris is calling out to me from across the room.

“Ask him about his taste in women!”

“He always dodges the question when I ask him,” another girl says, shaking her head.

“If all you ask is about his taste in women, I’m sure he won’t mind too much.”

Before, I’d been isolated, alone, the only commoner girl in a class full of nobles. Now all of them are cheering me on, getting up from their desks to come whisper suggestions in my ear. Whatever happened to that “noble aura” they always try so hard to maintain?

Professor Bordon tries to calm them all down. “Now now, girls, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Not a single person pays any attention to him. He gives up, letting out a sort of pained laugh as he looks back to Rockmann and me.

“His... taste?”

His taste in women, was it?

Why would I ask him something so useless? I’d actually prefer not to know the answer to that question, but I can’t just dismiss the demands of all these noble girls so lightly. I’m too scared. I might even be terrified. I didn’t give in to Rockmann, but I am already surrendering to these noble girls and their whims.

“Okay, so... What’s your... taste in women?”

I feel a bit guilty as the words come out of my mouth. Rockmann is unable to resist my questioning, and remains as expressionless as before. I’ve been pressured into asking him this question by the girls who are now claustrophobically closing in around me, and I can hold them off no more.

“I like—”

The mouth of Rockmann’s reflection opens up as soon as I ask my question.

“I, like...”

It’s different from earlier—he’s not speaking as fluidly as he did before.

While the real Rockmann is exactly as before, with that frozen expression, I can see sweat dripping off the side of his head. The mouth and chin of his reflection is twisting and chomping at the air uncomfortably, looking as if it’s trying to talk but someone is attempting to paralyze it with magic.

Is Rockmann using some sort of counterspell? It’s a sort of strange state he’s in, completely frozen in place by my spell physically, but apparently mentally capable of some resistance. I’ve never seen psychomagic used before, so I can’t judge whether this is a normal state of affairs or not—perhaps the duration of the spell depends on the mental fortitude of the target?

Once you’ve been trapped by a spell like this, you shouldn’t be able to escape from its effects unless some third party rips you out of the spell by force. I’d been so caught up in my excitement at having cast the spell that I hadn’t noticed that it hadn’t taken full effect. Bit frustrating, really.

“Dark... brown... hair...”

Barely, just barely, I can hear the reflection speaking.

“A bright... and cheerful...”

All of the noble girls, so as not to miss a single word of the reflection’s tortured mutterings, have pressed their palms up against the back of their ears to hear even just a little bit better. But then—

——Crack!

“Ahh!”

The mirror that I’ve been holding has broken.

“Hah... hah...”

The spell must have been lifted the instant the mirror broke, because Rockmann is once again moving, pressing his hand to his forehead and gulping down huge lungfuls of air, as if he’d been trapped in some airless space deep underground.

He looks at the mirror shards on the desk, then at me, sparks of anger practically leaping from his eyes. He gives me this awful expression as he takes his index fingers and points them both at me. I can see flames sprouting from somewhere just behind him, or so it appears in my peripheral vision.

“Glynyuudo.” (Inferno.)

“AHHHHH!”

My hair is covered in flames, and there it goes, bit by bit, up in smoke.

I’m not going to let him burn all my hair off! I cover my head with ice, extinguishing the fire. But the fight isn’t over—it’s just begun.

All of the students, seeing this spectacle, mutter in unison: “There they go again.” They draw even closer to watch, and now the boys are part of the crowd too. All of the girls are, of course, cheering for Rockmann, like they always do.

Professor Bordon doesn’t seem like he’s going to do anything to stop us. “Fight all you like,” he says, turning to sit down in the chair next to the teacher’s podium before quietly settling in for a nap.

“Oh my, look, it’s cleared up outside.”

“You’re right.”

What happened to all that depressing rain?

The brilliant sun peeks out from behind the clouds, and the Royal Isle is once again bathed in warm sunlight.