Because it was a special exam day, there were no elective classes in the afternoon. Instead, the Year 2 Governance professors gathered everyone at the auditorium to announce the exam’s calculated results. The Illusion Stage artifact had been moved to the side; the curtains of the stage had been lowered, hiding what had been set up behind it. Professor Raoul stood in the area before the stage, read out some statistics about everyone’s performance, and then had the projector screen rolled down so everyone could see their final grades.

Luka found his name in first place, alongside Veric’s. The rest was not his concern.

It was of concern to the other students. Gradually, a clamor arose.

“Professor Raoul, the exam was not conducted under expected conditions; the results are not fair.”

“Right. This was supposed to test our territory governance skills, not our ability to fight!”

“Rhoswen directly smashed the game board instead of playing it like you wanted us to, why is her name still so high up? You’re rewarding her behavior?”

Luka took a second look at the rankings and noted the huge swathe of students at the bottom who’d come away with only a few tokens to show.

Professor Raoul raised his hand, and the murmurs of the dissatisfied crowd went silent, waiting for his word.

“I understand that many of you are unhappy with the results,” he said. “I do not wish for this to be a punitive exam, either. After discussion, we have decided that extra assignments for partial credit will be available until the end of the semester. However, I also want to make something clear.”

His solemn gaze swept over the crowd.

“Although the exam was designed to reward you for the skills you have learned in class, there is a reason we did not prohibit forcefully taking others’ territories.

“First, when two nations’ interests conflict and they have the boldness and the ability to act, military conflicts will occur. That is why the Rainy Wars broke out. Soft power, ultimately, needs hard power to back it up.

“Second, we live in a world with powerful and dangerous individuals. In Iyiria, for example, we have the Council of Myths; in Lemiria, they have the Saints. The Hierarchs, too, still roam the world. Sometimes, these powerful individuals will break the established order to carry out one of their own destructive ideas.

“In the real world, if in the course of confronting such individuals your kingdom is burned to ash, then you must live with the ashes. Today’s exam can be considered a small lesson in how to consider and handle these matters as well.”

“But still,” someone said, raising their hand, “isn’t the Nightmare Flower a little too far…?”

Professor Lazard, who’d been slouching by the Illusion Stage artifact, heaved a large sigh and pushed himself to stand up.

“Alright, everyone, what has Nithemoore’s policy on your personal abilities always been?”

The student body mumbled some half-hearted responses.

“That’s right. No single frame is supreme, and there are countless ways of living in the world. Whether it’s a personally harvested artifact, a unique title, or an unconventional frame, if you can use it to reach the class’ requirements, then it’s permitted.”

He patted the Illusion Stage with one hand.

“If things truly went out of control, we would have intervened, but this is hardly the worst exam incident the Illusion Stage has dealt with, much less Nithemoore as a whole. It’s practically tradition to have one every year. You just had yours early. Take it on the chin, learn your lesson, and do better next time.” He raised a challenging eyebrow. “Or else, if you face another catastrophe like in KP-04—”

“Alexis,” Professor Raoul snapped.

Professor Lazard held Professor Raoul’s gaze challengingly for long, tense moment before he scoffed and went back to his lazy slouch with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“What I mean,” he said, “is that you should treat this as good training while you still have your professors to watch over you, so that when the day comes, you can stand on your own two feet without falling.”

The auditorium was silent. Whether it was anger, assent, or sorrow, no one said another word.

Professor Raoul cleared his throat.

“Overall, we are proud of everyone’s performance during this exam,” he said. “You did well. Regardless of your final score, you should celebrate your ability. After all, it is this ability that has earned everyone the opportunity to make up your exam score through further assignments.

“Don’t be afraid of failure. Grades are a reference and nothing more. The most important thing is for you to experience many things, and for you to learn.

“Does anyone have any questions?”

The crowd, perhaps soothed by Professor Raoul’s speech, had regained its former liveliness. After a few extroverted students took the lead, people started asking questions about the grading rubric and the details of the partial credit assignments.

As the teachers patiently answered, Luka’s gaze fell on Acacius, who looked both uninterested and restless where he was leaning against the wall. There was an empty space around him where people hadn’t wanted to come close. Rhoswen, on the other side of the room, had been distanced to an even greater degree.

He felt a little strange hearing Professor Raoul draw a comparison between Acacius, Rhoswen, and a regional disaster. If the comparison had to be made, wouldn’t the more suitable target be him?

After the teachers finished answering everyone, they announced it would be time to give away the prizes for the exam. They would be calling the teams up in order of ranking to select their prizes.

Luka and Veric, naturally, went first. They walked together backstage, up the stairs, onto the curtained-off stage.

Professor Lazard was waiting for them there, draped lethargically over a folding chair and eyes drooping. He waved vaguely at the table in front of them. “Take one each. If you both want the same item, then figure it out yourself.”

Luka examined the prizes laid out on the table.

There were many disposable artifacts. A large number were made for defense. Some were for concealment, while others provided auxiliary support for techniques.

After what happened in KP-04, perhaps these prizes were a way of providing each student additional measures should danger arise again.

Veric picked out the Five Elements Escape Talisman and handed it to him. At his questioning look, she said, “You give it to him so you can get the answer.”

Luka hesitated. “It was the deal you made. Shouldn’t it be you who…?”

“Just trust me,” said Veric. “This is a conversation that should be between the two of you.”

If Veric wasn’t there, would Acacius still talk?

Luka didn’t argue. He kept the talisman.

They waited for Acacius together at one of the benches outside the auditorium. When he exited the building, Veric waved him over.

“Seems like a lot of people are mad at you,” she said. Acacius shrugged. “You picked a prize too, right? Maybe you’ll have to use it to defend against our classmates before you can use it anywhere else.”

“It would be a shame to waste the prizes like that. So, did you get it?”

“Yeah. It’s with Luka.”

Acacius paused.

“So, you two have a good talk,” Veric said, patting Luka on the shoulder and nudging him forward. “I hope you guys will have this all sorted by the end of the day. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

She gave them both a serious look before decisively striding away.

Acacius watched her go, then glanced askance at Luka with a complicated expression on his face.

Luka looked back at him, uncertain as how to proceed.

Acacius sighed.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

Luka didn’t know how what should have been a fairly straightforward question-and-answer turned into a silent, five-minute walk off the campus to a small cafe. He watched Acacius order a cup of mountain tea and seriously count out the change. “Are you getting anything?” Acacius asked.

When in doubt, it didn’t hurt to mirror the other person’s actions. Luka got a traditional serving of coffee — a strong brew in a small briki pot with a layer of foam still frothing on the top — and added a large helping of sugar. They sat together on the second floor balcony outside, far enough from other guests as to preserve their privacy if they kept their voices down.

Acacius wasn’t in a hurry to speak. He slowly savored the tea and watched people pass by on the street, so Luka sipped his coffee and did the same. Some time passed like that.

Finally, Acacius said, “You’ve got the talisman?”

Luka handed the escape talisman over.

He examined it and raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you afraid that I’ll take it without answering properly?”

“Veric would be sad,” said Luka.

Acacius curled his lip. “I’m not above doing things that would make her unhappy, you know.”

Luka wasn’t either, even if he didn’t mean to be. He didn’t take the talisman back.

Acacius tucked it into his jacket. Then he shifted so that he was, for the first time since they sat down, facing Luka directly. He met his eyes. Sensing his attitude, Luka fixed his body language to mirror his.

Acacius said, “I am someone who is capable of killing others.”

Luka nodded.

“I am capable of doing it even if I like them, even if they are close to me.”

He said it with the calm certainty of experience. Something known because he’d done it. Who else had been close to Acacius before, who had he been hurt by hurting?

Luka had known Acacius for so long, but there was still so much he didn’t know about him.

“I’m not the kind of person who hesitates once they’ve made a decision,” Acacius continued, heedless of Luka’s thoughts. “When you entrusted the task of killing you to me, I didn’t like it, but once I thought it needed to be done, I could do it.”

He smiled sardonically.

“Is that something I should be happy about?”

It felt like this was a question that couldn’t be answered, but since Acacius was waiting for him, he tried.

“At least, at that time, I felt that there was no one more trustworthy and reliable than you.”

“Right? It was a good thing for you that I’m this kind of person. That I… am someone who can be so cold and calculating, even to someone who didn’t deserve it.”

Acacius crossed his legs and clasped his hands together over the knee, as if to disguise his tight grip.

“I don’t like this side of myself. And… I especially despise the world that forced me to learn what I could do.”

Although his voice was calm and expression steady, some emotion was betrayed by the slowing pace of his speech, the flickering of his eyes as if he wanted to look away.

“So even if it saved everyone, and others laud me as a hero for it—”

His voice cracked. He paused and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before speaking again with a perfectly distant poise.

“I really can’t stand everyone acting like it was right to kill one faultless victim for the sake of everyone else.”

Luka exhaled softly.

Of course. He shouldn’t have thought that the only factor in Acacius’ anger was their relationship.

There was nothing in the world that happened completely disconnected from anything else. To Acacius, his decisions didn’t just represent their attitudes towards each other or a changing relationship with the past.

They also symbolized his personal failings — and the failings of the world, too.

If it was like that, then many things could be explained.

[Incongruent Transcriber] stirred. Memories flashed by, one by one, all the things he hadn’t understood, and as they settled into Luka’s new understanding, their traces disappeared from [Transcriber]’s records.

But with his new understanding, Luka had new questions. If Acacius had such a strong moral sense, and if he admited — even indirectly — that he cared about Luka too, then… why had he done the things he’d done?

Snapshots of the past were recalled, resurrected, and recorded once more in [Transcriber]’s archive.

Still, Acacius had tried to help Luka to understand him. Now it was Luka’s turn to do the same.

He said, “I am also capable of hurting the people I care about.”

Mirroring others was one method to create a bridge between them. He didn’t know if such a bridge would reach Acacius. But if it did, then he wanted Acacius to know that there was another way to see the events that had occurred.

“If I had completely lost control at that time, it would have been very dangerous for everyone. And it was dangerous for you,” Luka said. “So… I’m glad that there was someone to stop me.”

He didn’t say, I’m glad that it was you.

If he watched for Acacius’ reaction too obviously, he might not seem sincere. Luka placed his hands on his knees and formally bowed his head, even if it meant he couldn’t see Acacius’ face anymore.

“I’m sorry for what I asked of you. It was unfair to you. But… thank you for helping me anyways. Even if you cannot see it as such, I think… in the end, it was a kind thing to do.”

There was a long silence, and then Acacius let out a sigh.

“I’ll stop holding onto this after today. You should, too.”

Luka raised his head. Acacius offered a wry smile.

“I never asked you to understand me, and I don’t want you to, either. So I shouldn’t have held this against you. Don’t blame me too much for being such a petty person, okay?”

Because Luka had seen Acacius’ separation from Rhoswen after the exam, he recognized the effort to create distance between them for what it was.

In the past, he hadn’t been able to breach the isolated world Acacius had retreated into.

“Even if you don’t want me to understand,” he said, “I want to.”

Acacius put his smile away in favor of his previous mask of indifference, but still, Luka thought he could see the flicker of emotion in his eyes. “Is it your hobby to take up futile tasks?”

Earlier, Acacius had said, There are things you have to do, even if it’s dangerous.

It made sense. And therefore…

“There are things you have to try, even if it’s impossible,” he said.

Acacius narrowed his eyes, but when Luka didn’t avert his gaze, he looked away first.

“No matter how much you get to know me now, I can’t give you what you want,” he said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He didn’t finish his tea before he left.

Mountain tea was made from the ironwort that grew in the mountains, where the shepherds would brew it to keep warm and ward off illness. Luka recalled a fable from one of the storybooks that Sacha had gotten for him as a child.

It was a fable from Great Zhou about a foolish old man who wanted to move a mountain to create a path to the other side. Day after day, he would bring away one wheelbarrow of dirt.

His neighbors laughed at his impossible efforts, but he said that even if he never finished the work, it was worthwhile, because the next generation would inherit his progress.

The end of the story had been lost. So anyone could imagine the end of the story for themselves, if indeed there was more to say.

Some said his inheritors completed the path; others said that his will was lost, and the mountain remained standing for all time.

Luka, perhaps foolishly, wanted to imagine that the old man’s efforts had been rewarded within his lifetime.

He finished Acacius’ cup for him before he, too, left.

The emotional efforts of that day were rewarded on the next, when he attended the weekend memorial service held at the Dragon Shrine for everyone who died in KP-04. The side courtyard had been cleaned and lined with white lilies and gladioli, and before the podium where people gave their eulogies was a row of symbolic caskets, one for each of the deceased.

Luka watched from the back, leaning against the wall, under the arched overhangs.

Because of that, he saw when Acacius came in late with a bouquet of lilies. When they made eye contact, Acacius paused, and then he walked over with the sort of careful gait of a wild animal ready to react at any time.

There were wild animals that came to Sacha’s backyard all the time. If Luka wanted them to stay, he would stay still and not look at them. Acacius was a person and not a wild animal, so Luka nodded to him in greeting, but after that he fixed his eyes on the memorial ceremony and pretended not to pay attention when Acacius drew close to stand next to him. Just like those wild animals, without Luka watching him, Acacius seemed to relax.

As the ceremony entered its final section, Veric and Roxana, dressed in their Dragon Shrine garments, stepped to the front to bless the koliva that had been prepared for the dead. One bowl had been prepared for each casket, in which was portioned a serving of boiled wheat shaped like a grave mound and sweetened with honey. A single candle had been placed in each.

Acacius, watching Veric and Roxana recite the blessings over the candles, said, “How has Veric been lately?”

It seemed that Veric was the safest conversation topic they had, these days.

“She feels like it is her fault that everyone died.”

Acacius glanced at him, eyebrows inching up. “Why?”

Luka had had the same reaction, too.

“Because she was the Order’s primary target. If she hadn’t been on the field trip, then maybe the Order wouldn’t have come.”

“That’s stupid,” said Acacius.

Luka looked over. “Is it?”

“Since when does it make sense for a victim to take responsibility for a perpetrator’s actions? It’s their fault for killing others, not hers for being attacked.”

It made much more sense to Luka than Veric’s perspective.

The degree of responsibility Luka felt for his surroundings was different from her. Perhaps he and Acacius had this in common as well.

“I think it is more about regret,” he opined. “She wishes they didn’t die, so she wishes she could have done something about it, so she finds a reason it could have been her fault.”

Acacius shrugged. “I can understand that.”

Luka glanced at him and guessed, “But that’s not how you feel.”

Acacius shook his head. Then, sensing his waiting gaze, he explained. “It’s a tragedy for something like this to happen. But considering the circumstances, the death count is much lower than I would have guessed. I feel like this outcome is about as good as it could be.”

When he smiled, it was a bit cold.

“See? This is the kind of person I am.”

Veric was right. Acacius pushed people away if he thought they were getting close.

Luka said, “If you are a cold person, I am one, too.”

The blessing ceremony was coming to a close. Solemnly, Veric and Roxana extinguished the candles in the servings of koliva, and together, the crowd chanted, “May the Great Dragon relieve them of all their sorrows.”

Everyone rose to partake in the koliva together.

Luka waited to see if Acacius would go forward to join. He didn’t, so Luka didn’t either. There, in the overhang’s shadow, watching all the memorial attendees in the courtyard sunlight, it felt like they were two outsiders in their own separate world.

It was hard for others’ grief to touch him. But even an observer could be changed by what they saw.

“In the end,” he said slowly, “one thing is true. If we had been stronger, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Even if Sacha promised to hold up the sky for him for a lifetime, she couldn’t always be there.

Acacius nodded.

“You earned a new title in KP-04. Have you thought about ranking up?”

In truth, it wasn’t one title, but two.

The second title, like some other things on him, was something that Luka should never use. Even without it, though…

“Yes,” he said. “I have three suitable titles to challenge the Chronicle realm. I think it’s time. What about you?”

“If I challenged, which Triarch do you think I should go for?”

Luka considered.

“Overcoming a trial is guaranteed to give you an achievement title… so you should pick the Triarch whose domain you want the help of the most.”

As for how dangerous it would be, he was sure Acacius could handle it.

“Ah,” said Acacius. “Do you have a Triarch in mind for yourself, then?”

Luka shook his head. “I’ll have three trials, so there’s no need to choose.”

“How do you know?”

A strange priest with all three Triarch’s authorities had told him as much. He’d also encouraged Luka to rank up right away, but Luka, like Dagian, had wanted to wait until he’d earned… better titles to use.

“There’s someone at the Secret-Keeper’s temple who can read these things. If you’re lucky, you might meet him there.”

Acacius didn’t respond to that.

Before he could wonder about it too much, their outsider’s world of two was broken. With the koliva blessed and distributed, the memorial service had officially come to an end. Roxana walked out of the throng of people mingling in the courtyard with small and graceful steps, followed by Veric at a more sedate pace. “Hello there, you two,” said Roxana. She looked at Acacius. “I was wondering if you’d come.”

“What, thinking of me?”

“You’ve been the star of so many events lately. Besides, if you hadn’t acted in KP-04, who knows how many of us would still be here right now?”

“No need to butter me up. Your Saintess already gave me a nice little reward.”

“That was from the Saintess and the shrine. It’s something you have to do for a political incident that big. This, on the other hand, is from me.”

Roxana gathered up her embroidered robes and bowed down in a deep and solemn curtsy.

“Acacius, no matter what anyone thinks of you, you are the one who saved us. For that, I am truly grateful. Please accept this bow from the bottom of my heart.”

Acacius was silent. He rocked back on his heels a bit, feet angling as if he wanted to head out the door.

“What’s all this formality, now?” he said. “Are you sure you aren’t trying to get an in with me? But since you’re so grateful, you can help me with something.”

Roxana straightened up, blinking big limpid eyes at him. “What is it?”

“I got a new seam. Add me to your group chat.”

“Aha! I knew you were holding out on us!” She pulled out her seam necklace. “Where’s your seam? Let’s synchronize.”

“Well,” said Acacius after a moment. “I didn’t bring it.”

Roxana paused. “You have a seam and you didn’t bring it?”

Acacius affected a baffled expression. “What’s with that look? Don’t tell me you treat your seam as a daily necessity…?”

Joke, Luka categorized.

Roxana huffed. “Okay, manual entry is fine. What’s your number?”

After rattling off a list of digits and watching her input it on her holographic screen, he nodded in satisfaction and said, “And one more thing.”

“Yes?”

Acacius faced Roxana very seriously. Puzzled, she looked back.

“Sorry for being so aggressive when I eliminated you during the exam.”

Roxana thought it over before saying, “I see. The main point is the aggression, not the elimination, so you still would have done it.” She made a sad expression. “That’s not how you should apologize, Acacius. Since you recognize your wrongs but your heart hasn’t changed, then you owe me a favor.”

“I don’t think I’m that sorry.”

“I’ll take that as an agreement.”

Acacius clicked his tongue but didn’t refute. So it turned out that one-sidedly deciding things could also be a strategy? Luka would have to observe how this played out.

Veric glanced at how Luka and Acacius were standing together and said, “So, have the two of you finally cleared the air?”

“What, he didn’t tell you everything?” said Acacius.

“We’re not actually glued at the hip.” At Acacius’ skeptical look, she rolled her eyes. “And even if we were, I don’t need to pry into every sordid detail of your relationship. You’re both mature enough to handle things on your own, aren’t you?”

Acacius snorted.

“Don’t get your hopes up. I’d hate to let you down.”

He said it like a joke, but Luka thought that it was probably one of the truer things he’d said today.

After exchanging a few more words, Acacius left to put his bouquet of lilies with the other offerings on the caskets. He firmly declined their company, saying he had things to do on his own.

It felt like every time more than one person wanted to talk to him, he would find a reason to leave. Luka noted for the future that he should always go find Acacius alone.

Still, before Acacius left, when he said goodbye to everyone, he faced Luka head-on, too.

“See you around,” he said, lifting his hand in a lazy farewell, before leaving as decisively as he’d done anything else recently.

“You’re smiling,” said Veric. “Things went that well, did they?”

Was he? Luka touched his face. He was.

“I don’t think we’re friends again,” he said.

“Don’t hold your breath waiting for him to say it,” said Roxana. “As long as he does the things a friend would do, just count him as one.” She hooked her arm into Veric’s with a theatrical sigh. “What would you two do without me to explain these things for you?”

Veric snorted. “Compared to what’s on the surface, isn’t it more important to understand what’s in their heart?”

“Aw, Veric, you think he’s going to show you that?”

It was true. Acacius had never been one to show himself easily.

But that was okay, because Acacius wasn’t hiding from him anymore, the way he had for years and years.

Instead, he was letting Luka close enough to see where his boundaries were being drawn.

One by one, outlining a shape where there had previously been nothing but formless darkness, like one of the Secret-Keeper’s doors.

As long as he could find the door, then there was hope that one day, its key would also fall into his hands.

Chapter 55 Back to Index