Doggone Academy

Whether because it was still early in the semester or some other reason, Eternia’s days were filled with the sound of students’ laughter wherever one went.

Being someone who doesn’t often laugh, I found the atmosphere both fascinating and, at times, enviable.

Eternia was not a place brimming with happiness like those found in fairy tales, just because laughter was plentiful. When you looked closer into each individual, they all carried their own concerns and pains – pressures from their families, stress about their grades, difficulties with interpersonal relationships.

I had my own worries. Holding the position of head student didn’t justify complacency. With the label of Silveryn’s disciple attached to my name, anything less than exemplary efforts would invite harsh judgments.

I couldn’t afford to waste time. Even if keeping up with my schedule was burdensome, I had to make the most of every day.

I woke up before dawn and baked cookies following a recipe I had previously mastered. This was a sort of bribe to keep the wild mare Trisha in check.

Early in the morning, I headed to the alchemy department greenhouse. I weaved through the randomly placed easels as if avoiding obstacles and made my way to the farthest corner, to my painting.

Silveryn’s portrait, left just as it was since before my cardiovascular practice, still required further effort to be completed.

Looking at the painting brought me joy. It depicted Silveryn seated in front of the Lake of Oblivion – the most beautiful image I had of her.

Next to it on an accompanying chair lay my working notes, and, for some reason unknown to me, a handful of candy.

While the gesture was appreciated, I had a policy not to eat anything given by strangers.

I pocketed the candy and sat down to resume my work. The basic underpainting was done, but there was still a long way to go before completion.

I had worked for a couple of hours when suddenly I recalled yesterday’s events – the masked man we met at the Guardian Tree could very well be from the art club.

Strolling around with my hands clasped behind my back, I carefully inspected each easel.

It wasn’t long before I came upon a sketch that included the Guardian Tree. Indeed, the man was a member of the art club. In retrospect, his appearance had been strange, but it seemed he hadn’t intended to conceal his club affiliation.

The sketch showed a young girl seated at the tree, gazing into the distance. Although only a rough figure was present, it carried an essence that spoke volumes of the artist’s depth of skill.

He must be quite sincere about the phantom of the Guardian Tree. I had no intention of judging anyone consumed with passion for their work; I completely understood him.

Returning to my space, I noticed art club members beginning to fill the room.

Soon after, the art club president and vice-president – Haley and Jenia – kicked the door in, striding inside as if they owned the place, their steps almost bandit-like.

“Freshman!”

President Haley, who must have just finished her practice with her golden hair tightly bound back, gave me a mischievous smile as she ruffled my shoulder while passing by.

Jenia dragged a chair over and sat next to me, casually asking,

“Hey, freshman. Who’s ‘S’?”

“…Pardon?”

Why suddenly ask about that initial? I felt a sinking feeling in my chest. There was nothing connected to that ‘S’ other than Silveryn’s Stitch.

“Whose ‘S’ undergarments that have been in your bed? Huh? Which sow’s been bothering you again?”

She confessed far too easily to having invaded my room. And what was she on about ‘S’s’ undergarments?

“I… I don’t know.”

Suddenly, Haley raised her voice.

“Hey! Leave the freshman alone!”

“Huff, see you later. Wait a minute…”

Jenia quietly observed the crimson shading in the hair of my painting.

“Speaking of which, you…”

Her eyes widened as though she realized something.

“Huh?”

“Ah, forget it. Act like you never heard it.”

***

When club activity time arrived, Professor Georgia entered the greenhouse humming cheerfully.

When the students stood to greet her, she gestured them down with an air of nonchalance.

“Sit, sit, be comfortable.”

She centered herself in the midst of the greenhouse, clapping her hands to gather attention.

“Alright, the busy bees can keep at their work, but listen up. Today, I bring good news. Such a small art club at the frontier is growing.”

The mention of ‘good news’ perked up everyone’s ears.

Georgia looked around at the students with satisfaction and continued,

“First off, we’ve welcomed a fresh crop of new members. The introduction was delayed due to the cardiovascular practice. Come on in.”

From the back, two girls and a boy walked in. One of them I recognized – it was Lilith.

The newcomers greeted the group in turn.

“I’m Dorothy. Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Lilith Izelyus.”

“I’m Ivan. It’s truly an honor to be part of the art club.”

For a moment, Lilith’s eyes seemed to drift towards me.

Was I being too sensitive? Without the mask, I’d had no direct encounter with Lilith. She wouldn’t recognize me.

“Alright, take your seats.”

After dismissing the new ones, Georgia turned to the second piece of news.

“Next, our art club has received a significant amount of activity funds.”

A hush fell upon the room, followed by a student’s tentative inquiry,

“How much?”

“Enough for a merry outing in Claridyum, should we secure a decent place in the intra-school competition.”

The greenhouse erupted with noise. Amidst the chatter of students excited by the prospects of a magical city excursion, I was clueless about the details.

“We’ve got a jackpot in the club.”

Additionally, Georgia looked decidedly pleased as her glance fell upon me. What does the activity fund have to do with me?

I felt unusually sensitive to the gazes of others today.

Shortly after, I felt light taps on the collar of my shirt.

Behind me stood Pavela, dressed impeccably, holding a stack of chairs and easels,

“We need to get chairs and easels ready for the newcomers… Can you lend a hand?”

Right, this was a task for me as one of the junior members.

“…Understood.”

I laid down my brush and quietly stood up to follow Pavela out of the greenhouse.

A silence hung between us as we walked, Pavela keeping her hands precisely aligned and her head slightly bowed. Then she slowed her pace to match mine.

After a brief hesitation, she asked,

“I saw the painting you were working on. It’s Professor Silveryn, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re quite skilled. Looks like you’ve practiced for a long time… Where’s the background?”

“Weisel.”

“Ahh, I heard Professor Silveryn’s residence is in Weisel… seems I was right. You must have a special relationship with the professor.”

“Yes.”

I kept my response brief, offering no further explanation.

We entered a storage building and gathered the necessary items.

I held three easels under one arm while Pavela took the extra chairs.

On the way back, she approached the topic again, seemingly unable to let it go,

“So… how did you come to meet Professor Silveryn in Weisel? How long has it been?”

“Are you interrogating me?”

Pavela quickly backpedaled, flustered by my question,

“No, not at all… Sorry, I asked a pointless question.”

After that, our conversation ceased, and only awkward silence followed.

As we reached the entrance of the greenhouse, I noticed an unfamiliar figure’s back. We paused before this person briefly.

The figure, a girl dressed in a beige, modestly adorned dress and a wide-brimmed round hat, clearly wasn’t from the art club.

She stood by the entrance tippy-toed, peeking inside.

A certain familiarity in the outline and movements caught my attention, and suddenly, it clicked,

“Trisha…?”

Startled, the girl turned around, and indeed, it was Trisha. Her eyes curved into crescent moons as they met mine.

“Damian!”

Trisha had dressed herself as primly as a noble lady out for a stroll.

She hustled up to me, offered a light greeting to Pavela,

“Hello there. You must be one of the art club seniors. I’m Damian’s friend.”

Pavela asked icily,

“…Friend?”

“Yeah, I’m Damian’s first friend.”

“…”

Then, spreading her skirt wide for me to see, Trisha said,

“See! I got all dressed up, didn’t I?”

“Indeed. I hardly recognized you.”

I then addressed Pavela with business-like formality,

“We’ll head in first, if you excuse us.”

***

Adapted to the ‘Friend Drawing’ assignment, various invitees entered the greenhouse, stirring a bustle for a while.

Lilith, appearing to have no friends, sat crouched on an ornamental stone in a corner, scribbling in a notebook.

Pavela, whom I expected to bring her fiancé, welcomed no one.

Professor Georgia was not the type to berate for not bringing a friend. If someone was alone, she simply instructed them to draw as such and went around offering necessary advice.

Trisha and I settled under a small flowering tree within the greenhouse.

“Like this?”

Trisha looked awkward seated on the chair, evidently unaccustomed to modeling.

“No. That way you’d tire too soon. Just relax and be comfortable.”

“Is this better?”

“Also, relax your arms. Stay tense like that and you might cramp up.”

“Damian…”

“What is it?”

“Your gaze… it’s unsettling.”

“We see each other every day. Why now?”

“It’s not that… It’s not just you watching…”

It was true that I also felt the heat of eyes on my back. There were only a few of us art club members who had brought a person of the opposite sex as a friend.

Given that the greenhouse wasn’t very spacious, we were not free from prying eyes. It’s not that the club members disliked Trisha, but they didn’t seem particularly thrilled about hosting a member of the drama club either.

I brought over a table and placed the cookies I had prepared on it.

“Eat when you want, and relax.”

“Whew… understood. This is quite new to me!”

Then she grabbed a cookie and nibbled it like a starving bunny.

“That’s it. Keep the arms moving and the rest still.”

After about ten minutes, as everyone sunk deep into their work, the initial disruption settled. The only sounds filling the greenhouse were the rustlings of fabric and the scratching of paintbrushes.

And, intermittently, there was also the sound of Trisha crunching on the cookies.

“Do you like them?”

Every five minutes or so, she would take a bite.

“Did you make these yourself? Pretty good!”

Good. If she’s pleased, that’s all that matters.

“But clean that up a bit.”

“What do you mean?”

Trisha was so engrossed in eating, she didn’t realize she had cookie crumbs around her mouth.

“Around your mouth.”

Trisha started to reach for her face, then, as if rethinking, rolled her eyes and put her hand back down.

“Where?” she teased, leaning slightly toward me.

I sighed and replied,

“Hold still a second.”

Reaching out, I rubbed away the crumbs from Trisha’s mouth with my thumb.

She tried to control her expression, tightening the corners of her mouth, but her eyes couldn’t hide their mirth.

And at that moment…

Clatter! Sounds of fallen items filled the room.

Both Trisha and I turned towards the noise.

All faces turned in surprise at the clamor.

And there stood Pavela.

Scattered on the floor were her palette and paints.