The Loathsome Scapegoat C9

Chapter 9

He answered without the slightest hesitation.

“I’ll stop them.”

Terren gave him a flat look.

“And how, exactly?”

“…I’ll issue an order forbidding anyone from bullying you. I’ll make sure it’s enforced as well.”

Terren let out a short, incredulous laugh.

“That may be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Your Highness, how is your thought process this shallow?”

“…What did you say?”

“I’ve heard enough.”

“I’d like to be alone now.”

Even without looking, Terren could tell Leopold’s expression had darkened.

For some reason, that brought him a deep sense of satisfaction.

He had finally accepted the reality before him.

Whether sixteen or twenty-six…

Leopold Delua was still Leopold Delua.

So why should it matter?

“My condolences on Your Highness’s narrow-minded worldview. Since I refused your cooperation, don’t go agonizing over this on your own and rushing into action.”

“It’ll only end in disaster.”

“…Terren, that’s enough.”

“Oh dear, I’ve offended our noble prince once again.”

“I’ll kneel and beg for forgiveness next time.”

“But for now…”

“Please leave.”

“For once, would you just— No… Then what am I supposed to do?” Leopold burst out.

“You expect me to watch you get attacked and injured, then simply walk away?”

At last, he exploded.

The calm composure he had maintained with such determination shattered beneath his anger.

“If you’re going to make reckless decisions with that empty head of yours, you’d be better off doing nothing at all.”

For the first time in a while, Terren opened his eyes.

He felt strangely invigorated.

How much longer can he endure this?

That question fascinated him.

There was a faint unease that perhaps history itself might change.

Even so…

Terren trusted Leopold.

Or rather…

He trusted the prince’s extraordinary patience.

As expected of an immature sixteen-year-old, Leopold gritted his teeth so hard that the blanket beneath his hand looked ready to tear.

The veins standing out along his neck were almost frightening.

Still…

Considering he’d spent the past several weeks enduring every insult imaginable from a mere commoner, the fact that this was all the anger he’d shown was remarkable.

“If you refuse even my help, you’ll only end up going through the same thing again.”

“And if I accept your help?”

“Every student in this Academy will think exactly the same thing.”

‘That damned commoner.‘

‘We should kidnap him somewhere the prince can’t see… and kill him.‘

“That’s absurd!”

“Do you really believe it is?”

Leopold fell silent.

After taking a long breath, he looked at Terren.

Then quietly admitted,

“…You’re right.”

“You would know better than I would.”

“I’m only someone who stood by and watched.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

“So now…”

“Please disappear from my sight.”

“Then tell me.”

“What should I do to stop something like this from happening again?”

Terren chuckled.

“Why should I tell you?”

“That’s your job.”

“Leopold.”

“You’re ignorant, arrogant…”

“And now you’re trying to shove your responsibility onto someone else.”

For one brief moment, the First Prince of Delua looked ready to lunge across the room.

Only the sight of Terren’s body, wrapped from head to toe in bloodstained bandages, stopped him.

Leopold, who had spent so long lecturing Terren about showing proper respect, found every one of those speeches rendered meaningless beneath Terren’s relentless mockery.

Even so…

He stubbornly began proposing solution after solution.

Each one was met with nothing but ridicule.

“Hopeless.”

“I’m fairly certain a goldfish would come up with a better answer than that.”

“Is the thing sitting on top of your neck purely decorative?”

Every cutting remark drove Leopold closer to losing his temper.

The atmosphere inside the infirmary became increasingly unbearable.

Yet eventually…

He arrived at an answer that Terren could not immediately dismiss.

“What about this?”

“A new Academy regulation.”

“It won’t mention you by name.”

“It’ll simply be introduced as a measure to improve student welfare.”

“…Do as you please.”

Leopold’s face brightened.

“So that’s acceptable?”

Then, almost immediately, he frowned again.

“…Why am I the one who’s happy?”

“This is supposed to help you.”

“And for once, show your fellow students some basic courtesy.”

“The way you act only encourages everyone who already dislikes you.”

“Right.”

“It’s all my fault.”

“I know.”

“…What?”

“Don’t twist my words.”

“And think about it.”

“Your attitude is the real problem.”

“Exactly how much do you expect me to tolerate?”

“Then kill me.”

“If looking at me disgusts you that much, execute me right now.”

“You’d be happy.”

“The Academy would be happy.”

“They could even hold a celebration after my death.”

“…One day, that mouth of yours is going to destroy you.”

Leopold stormed out of the infirmary, slamming the door hard enough to shake the room.

Terren let out a long sigh.

This might actually be the most times I’ve ever seen him lose his temper in a single day.

To be honest…

He wondered whether he’d gone too far.

The only time he’d ever provoked Leopold this relentlessly in his previous life had been after they had already become enemies.

Now…

Terren had nothing.

If he pushed the prince’s patience beyond its limit, he would simply destroy himself.

But every time he looked at that infuriating face…

Holding back became almost impossible.

The sixteen-year-old Leopold was far softer and more naïve than the man Terren remembered.

He had yet to experience the world’s cruelty.

At that age, everything still seemed as though it could be set right.

That was why he clung so stubbornly to his sense of justice.

The older Leopold had remained much the same…

But at least he had possessed a clearer understanding of reality.

Perhaps…

This was the height of his idealism.

Even though he hadn’t eaten a thing, Terren’s stomach churned.

Every conversation with Leopold left him feeling worse than before.

It was an old illness.

One that had plagued him his entire life.

He never wanted to speak to the prince again.

Fortunately…

He probably wouldn’t have to.

At least not for the next two years.

The infirmary bed was absurdly comfortable.

The moment he lay down…

Sleep claimed him.

Ah… the little sun of the Kingdom of Delua.

The wretched man I have to save.

There was no denying it.

Thanks to Leopold, Terren had escaped disaster.

The prince had handled the aftermath flawlessly.

He had even accomplished something Terren never expected.

A brand-new Academy rule.

Any student caught assaulting another student would be expelled immediately.

It had begun as one of many ideas Leopold had blurted out in frustration.

Yet somehow…

He had actually succeeded in making it official.

Leopold Delua was the one person capable of overturning every ounce of hatred Terren received simply because of his birth…

Using nothing more than the authority of his own bloodline.

Because of that rule…

Terren wasn’t expelled despite having fought Milo’s group with real weapons.

Nor did anyone dare beat him with practice swords or fists anymore.

Now…

Whenever someone harassed him…

He could return the favor.

Even making Lloyd van Acker tremble with rage no longer brought any consequences.

As the stress that had steadily built inside him finally began to ease…

His progress with dark magic advanced smoothly as well.

After memorizing nearly every standard formula for ordinary magic, he had begun experimenting with combining different formulas and using them alongside dark magic.

In his previous life, he had become so obsessed with dark magic that he never seriously researched conventional magic.

But ordinary magic held tremendous potential.

On the surface, it appeared weak.

Mana generation was inefficient.

Because of that, magic had become little more than another refinement expected of noble children.

Funding for mages was pitifully inadequate.

That…

Was precisely why dark magic had flourished.

The limitations of ordinary magic were obvious.

To everyone else, its development seemed to have reached a dead end.

But if that were truly the case…

Then how had dark magic ever been created?

Terren saw hope.

Tiny.

Fragile.

Less substantial than a lone boat drifting across an endless sea.

Yet even that was precious.

As for killing…

He had already settled on a rough plan.

What if dark magic could be cultivated without murder?

He had asked himself that question hundreds…

No—

Thousands of times.

There were even several experiments he wanted to conduct.

Unfortunately…

If he wasted time on such research now, by the time he came to his senses…

His lord would have already emerged from the cave and begun the great massacre.

Which meant…

There was no choice.

In this life as well…

He would have to kill.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

But it was inevitable.

Fortunately…

The circumstances were favorable.

Within the Academy, Terren completely ignored Leopold.

Leopold, in turn, mostly did the same.

Occasionally Terren would notice the prince watching him from afar.

Thankfully…

He never approached.

After receiving a stern reprimand from Leopold, Lloyd spent several days cursing Terren with every insult he could think of.

Eventually, however, he gave up and responded to Terren with complete indifference instead.

The other students still mocked him publicly from time to time.

They still picked fights.

But at least…

They no longer drew their swords.

That alone was an enormous improvement.

For the first time in a long while…

Terren found a measure of peace.

He threw himself into preparation.

He attended every class.

Earned top marks on assignments and examinations.

Practiced swordsmanship diligently.

Memorized magic formulas without complaint.

Even scored exceptionally well on the written examination in public administration.

Perhaps…

He had been nervous all along.

After considering every possibility hundreds of times, he had accepted that this was the best path available.

Yet useless thoughts still refused to leave him alone.

Murder was a strange thing.

A sentient creature choosing to kill another of its own kind.

Watching red blood spill from a human body…

Feeling a heartbeat stop…

Realizing that a life had vanished forever…

The sensation it produced was equally strange.

A tingling warmth spread from his fingertips.

His heart gradually began to race.

Emotion surged upward until it seemed to flood even his skull.

It was impossible to describe.

Like opium.

Once it began…

It could never truly be stopped.

The first kill.

Then the second.

Eventually…

Losing himself in wholesale slaughter.

That was the clearest path to becoming a dark mage.

And the addict…

Had chosen to begin…

In the slums.