Doggone Academy
Chapter 137 The Phantom of the Guardian Tree (16)

The opening words of the letter sent a chill down my spine.

[If you play this kind of joke one more time, I will truly kill you.]

And that was the end of the letter.

It was the most intimidating and vicious thing I had heard in all my time with Silveryn.

I had never been spoken to so harshly and directly before.

Moreover, it seemed that the person, who claimed to be unreachable in prison unless I came to visit, had turned rather quickly.

And I felt a bit wronged. Wasn’t it Silveryn who had started this prank? There was no reason for her to be this angry. Unless my reply had truly enraged her enough to turn the Capital upside down…

“……”

For now, I needed to quell Silveryn’s anger.

I cradled my head in my hands, pondering. What should I write back? This was uncharted territory for me, and I had no idea how to proceed.

I hastily pulled out paper and ink. After chewing on my lip for a good while, I scribbled down a response that came to mind.

[My teacher has always left an unmistakable red marking next to the signature on her letters. However, I do not see it on this letter. Please send proof that the sender is indeed my teacher. If not, I will suspend my studies immediately and head to the Capital to find her.]

The underlying message was clear: just do as told. If my teacher was in danger, of course, I would drop everything to go. What good is a disciple lounging around in a dormitory?

The relationship between a teacher and student isn’t equal. Silveryn was responsible for me, so it was my mistake to have caused unnecessary worry by not responding regularly.

I folded the reply neatly and affixed it to Stitch. It buzzed away like a wasp, soaring into the sky.

After sending the letter, I noticed a group of people approaching me. I had been so preoccupied with Silveryn’s letter that I hadn’t seen them coming.

Five middle-aged men with pointed beards and fine tunics stood boldly before me. They were clearly not from Eternia. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ɴovᴇlꜰirᴇ.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

“Are you Damian?”

“…And who might you be?”

“We were waiting outside of your dormitory, not realizing you’d be out here. Allow us to introduce ourselves; we are envoys sent to deliver an invitation from the Duchy and the Lady.”

“You could have sent this through Eternia.”

“The esteemed Archmage Silveryn and our proud Ulyssia Duchy have always maintained good relations. Thus, the Duchy thinks it only proper to extend the same courtesy to her valued disciple.”

“…”

One envoy reached into his robe and produced a scroll adorned with gold leaf, extending it towards me.

***

Gerald knocked before entering Lady Vivi’s chamber. He entered the room and kneeled on one knee.

The Lady seemed quite busy. Three maids were attending to her, one brushing her hair while the others fussed over each hand, manicuring her nails.

Vivi’s back was to him, obscured by the maids, so he had to confirm her face through the mirror.

“What is it?”

“I’ve come to report on the observation of the Eternia classes.”

“Ah, go on. Pay no mind to my appearance.”

“The boy’s swordsmanship is mediocrity incarnate. It is neither notably advanced nor lacking. He also seems to avoid proper confrontations.”

The corner of the Lady’s mouth, reflected in the mirror, curved slightly.

“I told you. He’s hiding his true talent.”

While Gerald remained noncommittal, the Lady almost seemed certain.

“He keeps to an extreme reluctance regarding any external activities. He has politely declined both personal meetings and social gathering invitations.”

“The bait must have been insufficient.”

“It’s my fault for the lack. My apologies.”

Gerald felt a touch of injustice.

He thought of the suitors, drooling and jostling for a chance for an audience with the Lady. If it were a woman, he might understand, but for a young man coming into his prime – he’d likely pay any price to secure such an opportunity.

Was it possible Damian failed to grasp the magnitude of establishing ties with the most powerful figure in the Ulyssia Duchy? The very proposal was the most honest and potent lure.

Damian showed no interest in the offer, which might indicate his lack of worldly understanding.

“Well, I expected as much. Resentful, but what can be done? It’s how his teacher has instructed him.”

“…”

The Lady waved her hand, and at her signal, the maids ceased their tasks and left the chamber in unison.

Vivi slowly stood up.

Her black corset dress accentuated her figure, and the sheer chiffon of her skirt fluttered in the breeze coming from the balcony.

She turned to look down at Gerald, her lips painted red and her hair elegantly draped over one shoulder. The countless accessories she wore, each worth a mansion, amplified her charm.

She placed a hat with a long feathered brim askew on her head and spoke.

“Maybe he moves as his mother dictates.”

“……”

“I’ll go to Eternia myself. I want to see with my own eyes if he’s really worth rejecting the Duchy.”

***

An awkwardly toned monologue echoed on stage.

“Oh, long and tedious night, shorten thy hours. Let the east’s blessing rise to greet my love.”

Following that, the director tapped her baton, halting the rehearsal, and climbed onto the stage.

She chided the male lead with a voice worn from shouting.

“I’ve never seen such rubbish acting in my life.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Is that the emotion of a man who’s been waiting outside his lover’s house all night? Embody more longing, more pain! Simply mimicking a sad expression or tone isn’t enough!”

“Um, how do I immerse myself…”

“Oh, my fate. Does anyone have a decent example? Ah, Trisha! Stop hiding and come out.”

Trisha timidly stepped out from behind a set door designed to look like a mansion.

“Yes, sis?”

“Don’t call me ‘sis’ on stage! Call me ‘director.’ You, the freshman, show them how it’s done.”

“What should I do…?”

“Show us a portrayal of aching love.”

“Yes!”

Trisha answered energetically, ascended the set, and flung open a window.

“Ahem! I’ll start now.”

She struck an exaggerated pose and began reciting her lines.

“Ah, his heart is like a shut door. I flutter about him like a butterfly, but the bud remains tightly closed. Oh, to love such a beastly man. My foolish fate! Should father learn of this, he would not even permit these feelings.”

Trisha’s acting was not flawless, but she captured the emotional current well. For some reason, she was deeply immersed when it came to acting.

The director pointed with her rolled script at Trisha.

“See, even that silly Trisha does it well. If your brother is such an accomplished actor, why can’t you? Dig into your experiences, immerse yourself…”

“I’m not silly!”

The director ignored Trisha and continued to the male student.

“Never had a crush? There must be someone beautiful enough to consume your thoughts. Think of that person.”

The young man seemed to ponder before replying.

“Ah, I understand.”

“Who did you think of?”

“Someone in my imagination…”

“No, think of someone you’ve actually seen.”

“Then… um…”

From the audience, the older students teased.

“They say the Phantom of the Guardian Tree is the prettiest.”

“I’ll think of the Guardian Tree’s Phantom.”

“Have you seen her for yourself?”

“No…”

The director thwacked the student’s head with her script.

“Don’t think about things you haven’t seen. Picture someone around you.”

Then, the young man glanced awkwardly at a girl sitting in the audience, scribbling in her script. It was Luna, in charge of the scenario.

Luna’s gaze briefly darkened with a dangerous glint.

The director shook her head, clearly exasperated, and declared a break, clutching her neck as if it had overheated.

“Ah, when will this boy become an actor? I might die before then. No use. Let’s take a 10-minute break!”

The tension on stage eased, and the waiting actors dispersed noisily behind the curtains.

She descended from the stage, still clutching her neck.

And Trisha quickly scurried to stand beside the director.

“Sis, sis!”

“Aish, you brat. What?”

“Me, my friend, friend.”

“That friend again?”

“Yes!”

“Good grief, why do you analyze every action? Both of you will tire out.”

“But this time it was really strange.”

“Oh, my poor head…”

“Listen, sis. I woke him up because he was oversleeping in the dorm. But suddenly, after looking at the calendar, he looked unhappy. It wasn’t even a special practice day.”

“People check habitually when their day off is.”

“He’s always diligent, weekdays or weekends! That’s why it was so strange!”

“Maybe it’s the anniversary of someone he’s forgotten… or a commemoration he no longer observes.”

“Right! That’s exactly the feeling I got!”

“Then don’t stir it up. Stay quiet, or you’ll start a fire.”

Trisha’s expression became increasingly meaningful.

***

After a few classes and individual practice, the day had waned.

I made my way to the little theater where Trisha was, drenched in sweat, to pick her up.

Apart from Silveryn’s letter, it had been a satisfactorily uneventful day.

I leaned against the entrance railing of the theater to cool off and pass the time.

Suddenly, a white dog sauntered up and plopped down opposite me.

It looked vaguely familiar, and upon closer inspection, I realized it was Luna’s wolf spirit.

The creature stuck out its tongue and panted, staring intently at me.

“…?”

I remembered hearing that Luna was in the drama club. Maybe she was here.

Then, abruptly, the spirit stood up, growled fiercely at the door as if signalling something, and vanished into mist as someone came out.

It was Trisha.

“…?”

“Oh? Damian’s here. Have you been waiting long?”

“Yeah. Thought someone had kidnapped you since you took so long.”

“Even if someone did, my friend would come looking for me, right?”

I let her odd comment slide.

“Got to take you back. It’s chilly. Let’s go.”

We walked towards Northern Village. I planned to stop by the dormitory to grab a few things to move to Thorn Garden.

As we passed through the student garden, Trisha asked me in a hesitant tone,

“Damian, what day is it today?”

“Why?”

“Umm… never mind!”

If something happened and no one remembers, then it’s just an ordinary day.

Trisha seemed to mull over something, fidgeting to herself.

We walked on and paused briefly in front of Witthrush Hall dormitory.

“Wait here. I’ll just grab some stuff and be right back.”

“I want to come in too!”

“No.”

“Can’t even show me around? I let you into my dorm.”

Speak clearly. You dragged me there against my will.

“Fine, come in. But stay quiet, no fuss.”

Trisha hopped about, pleased.

“Yeah!”

“But don’t get startled if you see something weird in my room. It wasn’t me who left it there.”

I hadn’t yet disposed of the welcoming waste equivalent to three baskets still left in my room.

“You’re the weirdest one, so I won’t be surprised.”

Entering the dormitory, a maid in the corner greeted us lightly. A new face, she seemed suspicious of Trisha following me. I gestured that we’d be leaving shortly, and the maid nodded.

Trisha and I passed through the hall and ascended the stairs.

Reaching the third floor, Trisha was already panting.

“Why is it so high?”

“We’re almost there.”

We moved through the hallway to the end room.

In front of room 31F, I fumbled in my pocket for the key when I noticed an odd object placed before the door and halted.

A white box, the size of a fist, adorned with a carefully tied red ribbon.

Trisha, noticing something amiss, asked,

“Damian… what’s up?”

I picked up the box. My hands were trembling faintly.

Suddenly, my heart lurched, and nausea welled up within me.

It was as if the ground had opened, and I was being pulled into the deep darkness below.

An anniversary unknown to the nun who raised me, to Silveryn, and even to my only kin who probably had long forgotten.

A day unremembered by anyone. A day deeply cursed by those denied existence.

The weighty memories, piled up over the years, once unearthed, unleashed a torrent of emotions I could not bear.

That day, which I had hoped would pass as just another ordinary day.

This was an object that should not exist.

Beneath the ribbon, there was a note, with no name of who had left it.

On it, just a few words were written.

[Happy Birthday.]

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