Chapter 116: Explaining!

That evening, I found myself in a predicament.

Specifically, I was pinned against the wall of an empty classroom with my feet a few inches off the floor, and Serena’s hands were wrapped around my neck.

She had been waiting for me behind the door. I’d walked in to grab the bag I’d forgotten, the door had clicked shut behind me, and the next thing I knew, I was up against the chalkboard staring into a pair of very angry red eyes.

"Give me an explanation," Serena said, in a calm, quiet voice. "The worse it is, the more I squeeze. Go."

"H-Hi, Serena! Lovely evening! Could you, maybe-"

Her thumbs pressed in a little.

"Ack! Explanation! I’m explaining!" I grabbed her wrists, which did absolutely nothing. "Can you be a little more specific about what I’m explaining? Because, honestly, there’s a lot of stuff it could be!"

"Lily Everdawn came to my room yesterday." Serena leaned in closer. "She grabbed my collar. She grabbed it exactly the way I like it grabbed. There is one person in this entire academy who knows how I like my collar grabbed, Kohaku."

She sounded like a damn mob boss.

My attention went straight to my options. I could lie, I could tell the truth, or I could try to say something in between and hope it was good enough. Serena’s grip was getting tighter by the second, so I didn’t have much time to choose.

In other words, I had to start talking immediately, and I had no plan at all.

"It was method acting!" I squeaked.

The grip tightened.

"I mean, Lily is very passionate about the theater! She wants the kiss in the play to look really believable, so she’s been doing research..."

It tightened again. My voice went up half an octave.

"And maybe, when she was doing her research, I might have given her one or two small tips! Very small! Tiny tips! Barely even tips!"

Serena’s fingers dug in hard enough that I saw little white spots at the edges of my vision. My tail was lashing back and forth against the chalkboard, smearing the morning’s lesson all over the place.

"Try again," Serena said.

"Okay! Here’s the truth!" I sucked in the last little bit of air I could get. "Lily wants to pursue you!!!"

Serena froze.

Her hands stayed exactly where they were, but they stopped squeezing. She was staring at me with her mouth slightly open, and for the first time since I’d met her, she looked completely, totally lost.

"...What do you mean by that?" she said slowly.

"I mean it the normal way!" I wheezed. "Pursue! Romantically! To pursue someone! She came home after rehearsal, and she asked me whether it was okay if she kissed you for real, not for the play, and I said yes, and then I gave her the collar tip. That’s the whole story! I swear!"

Serena’s hands opened.

I dropped straight down onto the floor in a heap and lay there, coughing and rubbing my throat.

Serena didn’t even look down at me. She was still staring at the spot on the chalkboard where my head had been.

"She asked you for permission," she said slowly, "and you said yes?"

"Of course I said yes!" I sat up. "She had a whole speech prepared and everything, and I kind of interrupted it halfway through. Why wouldn’t I say yes?"

Serena turned her head and looked down at me.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Then, without a single word, she turned around and walked out of the classroom.

I heard her footsteps going down the hall to the left. A few seconds later, they stopped. Then they came back, passed the open doorway going the other way, and faded off to the right, toward the stairs she should have taken in the first place.

I stayed where I was on the floor, rubbing my neck.

Serena Frostfall was the strongest student in the academy, the future crown princess of the kingdom, and the girl who had once ended a duel against me in under two seconds. She had just walked the wrong way down a hallway she used every single day.

In other words, I had broken her.

[Good luck, Lily.]

---

That night, Lily went to Serena’s room for "acting advice," and I had our room to myself.

I sat cross-legged on my bed with the lamp turned low and the weasel curled up asleep on my pillow. Ever since I’d scouted the royal box, one question had been stuck in my head. Sabine had said the Church made its relic blades out of black glass, and then she’d refused to say anything more. I needed to know what that knife could actually do before I walked into a room with it.

There was exactly one way to find out.

"Status."

MANUSCRIPT — Lv.2

Current MP: 75

I’d never used the second part of the skill. Every time I’d thought about it, I’d decided ten MP was too much to spend on something I didn’t understand.

"Recollection," I said.

RECOLLECTION

View a scene from this world’s past. The scene is shown as it occurred, not as it was written.

Cost: 10 MP.

Specify a scene.

"Show me when Secretary Anselm Pryce got the black glass knife."

Scene located. Cost: 10 MP. Proceed?

[This had better be worth ten MP.]

"Yes."

Current MP: 65

The screen went white, and the text began.

The first thing I noticed was that it didn’t sound like me at all. There were no dramatic adjectives, no flashing swords, and nobody’s instincts had ever once been wrong. The sentences were short and dry, and nobody’s feelings were described at all.

In other words, this wasn’t my novel. This was what had actually happened.

Eleven years ago. The lower crypt of the Cathedral of Lux, in the capital. Night.

Anselm Pryce, aged thirty-one, junior clerk to the Queen’s household, stands before an official of the Church in gray robes. The official’s face is hidden by a hood. Between them is a stone table. On the table is an object wrapped in white cloth.

The official unwraps it. It is a dagger, the length of a man’s forearm, made entirely of black glass. The lamp on the wall dims as the blade is uncovered.

"It was cut from the glass beneath the first altar," the official says. "It eats mana. A ward will not stop it. Enchanted mail will not stop it. A knight who wraps her body in her own mana dies the same as a farmer who does not."

Pryce does not touch the dagger.

"And the Queen’s guard?"

"The Queen’s guard is made of knights. Knights rely on mana." The official wraps the blade again. "Keep it sheathed until the moment comes. Once it is drawn, nothing can block it. It can only be prevented."

Pryce takes the bundle and places it inside his coat.

"I can be patient," he says.

"Then be patient. It may take years."

It takes eleven.

End of scene.

The screen closed.

I sat very still on my bed. The weasel stirred on the pillow, yawned, and went back to sleep.

My attention went straight to the two techniques I’d spent weeks bleeding for. Coating covered my whole body in a layer of mana. Tide moved that layer around in a band, so I only protected the part that was doing the work. Both of them were made entirely out of mana.

"It eats mana," I whispered.

[That’s literally everything I have!!!]

I’d been picturing it the whole time. Pryce would draw the knife, I’d throw myself in front of the Queen, I’d Coat my arms, and the blade would scrape off them while Hex drew her sword. I’d practiced carrying the tray, I’d practiced the stairs, and I’d practiced holding Tide for ten whole seconds, all for a block that would never work.

The black glass would slide straight through my Coating, then through my arm, and then it would keep going.

In other words, if Pryce ever got that knife out of his coat, I couldn’t stop it, and neither could Hex or anyone else in that box.

I put my head in my hands.

Then, I remembered what Sabine had told me in her practice room, back when she was pretending not to ask.

"You grab the wrist, not the knife. Then you Snap your grip and break it before he can scream."

The official had said the same thing in a different way. Once it was drawn, it couldn’t be blocked. It could only be prevented.

I lifted my head.

The knife was dangerous after it came out. Before that, it was just a piece of glass inside a coat, and the hand that had to reach for it belonged to a thin, gray, forty-two-year-old secretary. His wrist was a normal wrist, and it would break like one.

In other words, my job was to make sure there never was a strike.

I had to be standing at that side table, three steps from his right hand, with my eyes on his coat. The moment his fingers moved toward it, I had to get there first.

I looked down at my hands. They were shaking a little.

[Okay. New plan. Don’t block the knife. Break the wrist. Uh... Easy?]