A Butterfly Through the Mist - Side Story 3

Unlike the musty interior of the library, where countless volumes lay dormant, the outside was drenched in sunshine like a blessing. Even the chill of winter air brushing against his cheek felt pleasant enough to draw a smile.

Maybe I’ll go to the training ground and loosen up. Get this damp, moldy book smell out of my nose, too.

But just as he descended the stairs, feeling noticeably refreshed, a sudden premonition tugged at the back of his head.

Narrowing his eyes, Ilex slowly turned his head. Behind him stood the library housing the Royal Academy’s Selected 100 Works of Classical Literature, looming in all its majestic glory.

You’ll end up coming back here again.

The grand stone building seemed to say that as it looked down at him with an arrogant expression.

…What nonsense.

Scoffing at the thought, Ilex curled one corner of his mouth and turned away. Then, as if stamping down a foreboding omen, he descended the stairs with force in his steps.

The grade appeal period had ended, and the end-of-term ceremony was just around the corner. For someone as impatient as himself to have fixated on a single thing for so long was already a bizarre occurrence.

If I don’t see her face for a month, maybe this time my feelings really will disappear.

Brushing off the phantom grip pulling at his nape, Ilex quickened his pace.

***

But just as he had sensed when leaving the library, Ilex couldn’t escape from the clutches of Tilia Ambrose even during the break.

“Ugh, what is this…?”

With a movement steeped in irritation, Ilex hurled the commentary book across the room.

The themes of classical literature were always the same. Worship of faith or maternal love. If not that, then chivalry or fealty to feudal lords.

All equally dull—so much so that it was infuriating.

“Screw this. I’m done.”

As he did nearly every day since the end-of-term ceremony, Ilex tossed out that line and flung the book away.

The stack of related texts he had scooped up at a new bookstore came crashing down with a thud as the one he threw hit its corner. Even seeing the mess, Ilex didn’t flinch. Instead, he propped both feet arrogantly on the table.

“So boring…”

With his hands laced behind his head, the man mumbled while staring into the empty air where the sunset drifted.

He could no longer tell if this boredom came from studying literature, which didn’t suit him, or from not being able to see Tilia Ambrose.

One thing was certain. Whichever it was—it was all because of Tilia Ambrose.

Blaming his crush in the most pathetic way, Ilex lazily wiggled his foot on the book.

The faces of those punks holed up inside the bookstore he visited in the new city center looked endlessly cheerful.

Idiots.

He curled one side of his mouth into a twisted grin as he recalled the faces of those who’d invited him to hang out in some underground joint.

How nice it would be if I could live like those idiots. If I could do things without realizing how disgusting they are—just think with what’s below the waist.

But even as he muttered that, Ilex knew. Once he had perceived her, there was no way to go back to being an airheaded fool.

Realizing just how thoroughly he’d been hooked, a sigh escaped him.

…Whatever. Let’s just study.

But his yearning for a freer past lasted only a moment. Ruffling his hair, Ilex lowered his legs from the table.

Annoyed or resentful, he had to study regardless. He was in the lesser position, the one who lacked leverage. And those in that position had to be grateful even for rotten ropes they could cling to.

Ilex Davenport began picking up the books he had thrown. Then, with a face clouded in gloom, he started reading again.

The vacation dragged on more slowly than any other time.

Ilex locked himself away in his room where time seemed to stop, repeating the act of tossing and retrieving books. At times, he even questioned whether buying all these books was just to do that.

And one day, after countless cycles of pointless throwing and picking up, he finally came to a realization.

“Wow. I really have no talent…”

For the first time, Ilex gave a hollow laugh after recognizing his clear limits.

After putting in this much effort, he had expected some improvement. But his ability to interpret texts remained completely stagnant.

And really, it was no surprise. He lacked the sensitivity needed to understand the rhetorical devices that made literature what it was.

So then… what now?

Though a dry laugh came out, he wasn’t in despair. He was simply facing his abilities with objectivity, now staring blankly at his pitiful exam sheet in deep thought.

There were still about two weeks left of the break. Tilia was no longer the issue. No—if he was honest, she still was, but for the sake of his remaining pride, he decided to pretend otherwise.

Now, if only out of spite, he had to improve. Just to justify a month spent throwing books like boomerangs, he had to earn better grades.

So then…

Failing to improve his analytical skills through the proper methods, Ilex now curled his lips into a twisted smile.

Guess I’ll just go back to doing things my way—cutting corners and gaming the system.

***

Time passed, and at last, the long-awaited day of the new semester arrived.

Ilex, whose jawline had grown a little sharper over the break, looked straight toward the front seats the moment he entered Professor Raus’s lecture hall.

She’s there.

The corners of the young man’s lips lifted slightly the moment he spotted the long black hair seated near the blackboard.

Just as he’d expected. Tilia Ambrose wasn’t about to skip a course on classical literary criticism.

Even though he had known his prediction would be correct, Ilex had still been on edge over the possibility that she might not attend this class. Only now did he breathe a sigh of relief as he settled into a seat on the fourth row from the front, by the aisle. A spot where he had a good diagonal view of Tilia’s profile.

“Welcome, my distinguished students.”

The professor entered exactly on time. Ilex, who had been sneaking glances at Tilia while pretending not to, turned his head toward the male professor with the sly expression.

“Since this is an advanced course, I’m sure none of you are seeing me for the first time, but I’ll introduce myself anyway out of courtesy. I’m Anthony Raus, professor of rhetoric. My office is in room 302 of the Lorelei Memorial Hall, just behind this lecture wing.”

The tousled blond professor joked at the end that he was always delighted when students dropped by to ask questions.

Yeah, right. More like he’s delighted when female students come to ask questions. Unlike Ilex’s cynical thought, Tilia was lightly jotting something down. Seeing that made Ilex furrow his brow slightly.

“Now, since it’s the first day, let’s start off easy by going over the syllabus overview. Let’s see… the attendance sheet…”

Don’t tell me… Did she just write down his office number? Is she really thinking of visiting him? Unable to peek at her notebook from this distance, Ilex narrowed his eyes, unusually tense.

“Ilex Davenport. Student Davenport, why don’t you read the course outline for us?”

Raus lifted his head as he called him.

“Davenport?”

Still staring intently at Tilia, Ilex only realized belatedly that his name had been called. A beat late, he lowered his gaze to the syllabus.

Before class began, a teaching assistant in thick-rimmed glasses had handed out the syllabus in advance. It was densely packed with the titles of classical literary works.

“Just read the table of contents.”

Raus said it lightly, but the reaction from the students, relieved their names hadn’t been called, made it clear how grueling the task was. Reading through that list of works packed into the syllabus was no easy feat.

True to its title, the classical literary criticism course syllabus listed masterpieces that would go down in literary history, week by week. The problem was that they were written not in modern Arkansian, but in archaic language.

Archaic language, referring to the form used from the kingdom’s early founding through the reign of Edward III, shared the same script as modern Arkansian but had entirely different grammatical systems and reading methods. In short, it was an easy way to make a fool of oneself if you didn’t know it well.

Just read this straight through, seriously?

Ilex let out a hollow chuckle and glanced at Raus. The handsome professor wore a smile laced with mild malice.

After briefly locking eyes with him, Ilex lowered his gaze and opened his mouth. Then fluent archaic speech flowed effortlessly from his lips.

It was surprising, but not difficult. All the titles were works he had tirelessly read over the break.

Perhaps caught off guard by the unexpected performance, Raus looked at him with a slightly surprised expression. Ilex also sensed that several other students in the lecture hall had turned to look at him.

But the only person who mattered to Ilex in that entire room was always just one—Tilia Ambrose. Consciously aware of the dark hair seated diagonally in front of him, he calmly read down the table of contents.

“…Alright. Well read.”

At last, when the recitation was over, Raus gave him reluctant praise in a voice that couldn’t hide his dissatisfaction. Ilex barely acknowledged it and only cast another sidelong glance at Tilia’s back.

She’s not interested.

As always, Tilia Ambrose sat perfectly upright, eyes fixed on the podium.