Doggone Academy

The silence shattered in an instant, everyone’s gaze converging on that one spot.

“I’m so sorry.”

Pavela, her head hung low, began to clean up the scattered tools and paint, her hands visibly trembling for some reason.

The surrounding female students came to her aid, asking with concern as they deemed her condition not well,

“Pavela, are you okay?”

She appeared to be discomforted by the attention,

“I’m sorry. I can manage on my own.”

Ignoring the mess her clothes were getting from the paint, Pavela gathered the tools in a hasty manner, evidently flustered by the unexpected incident.

Then she made a quick exit. Following Professor Georgia’s instruction, a few female students went after her. With that, the situation was settled.

Trisha, blank-faced, batting only her eyelids, asked,

“Is she really okay?”

“Let’s focus on our own work.”

“You can be really cold sometimes. It’s like you have two sides to your personality.”

“…”

“And Damian, isn’t it a bit chilly?”

“I don’t feel it.”

“That’s strange. It feels like the air’s gotten cooler.”

The greenhouse basked in warm sunlight; it wasn’t an environment where it could get cold.

“Aren’t you dressed too lightly? You should’ve worn something heavier.”

Trisha’s expression instantly drooped, likely thinking I was chiding her after she had gone to such lengths to dress up nicely.

“…”

“It wasn’t chiding. I was worried.”

“Dummy.”

Soon after, the greenhouse door violently swung open, and Pavela entered, her attire tarnished with paint stains, her face hidden behind disheveled hair as she bowed her head.

She whispered something to Professor Georgia, who nodded empathetically after giving off a look of pity. With that, Pavela packed her belongings and left the greenhouse, it seemed she opted out of the class due to not feeling well.

Trisha, after glancing at her discreetly, commented,

“She looks kind of pitiable.”

“No need for you to worry. She has friends, even a fiance, and lives a sufficient life.”

Trisha sunk into thought,

“You’re treating it like someone else’s problem because she has a fiancé, right?”

“It’s simply impolite to impose.”

Besides, Pavela herself had made it clear she wanted to keep a distance. I had no reason to be concerned.

Trisha, with nascent curiosity, sprang an unexpected question on me,

“What would you do if I had a fiancé?”

“…”

She watched my face intently before awkwardly turning away and crunching on a cookie.

“Did I ask something too difficult? You’d be really sad, huh!”

“Fiancés don’t end friendships.”

“And if you had to pick between an engaged friend and a fiancé?”

Without much thought, I replied,

“Send the fiancé on their way and cut ties.”

Trisha prodded with her imagination,

“Geez, that’s harsh… But what if your family forces an engagement?”

“…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Enough of this. It’s distracting.”

“I want to know!”

“It’s your own decision that matters more, right? Maybe you just want an excuse, ’My family forced me,’ to push away a friend without feeling guilty. I can’t know for sure. What would you do if faced with that?”

Trisha responded, a touch disheartened,

“I’d leave everything behind for you.”

“Nice words.”

I felt sorry for Trisha, but I did not trust vows made in less mature times, especially those from girls with color-faded hair.

“It’s true. If an arranged marriage is unavoidable, I’d bite off my tongue.”

“…”

That sounded likely. Trisha seemed like someone who couldn’t endure an arranged marriage.

“And as a spirit, I’d curse the friend who abandoned me until my death.”

I easily brushed aside Trisha’s veiled threat and continued painting.

“Feel free. Just relax your face. You’re losing consistency in the painting.”

“Boring.”

With no rise from me, Trisha’s spirits sank even lower, and as the cookies failed to cheer her up, I quickly threw another temptation her way,

“Since you helped with my art assignment, I’ll grant you a favor in return. What do you need?”

“Yes, yes, yes! Help me with script practice!”

“Fine, but stay still. Don’t lean forward.”

***

As class ended, a few students stayed behind to continue their work.

Trisha and I were among them.

While we were concentrating, dark clouds gathered, and thin raindrops soon pattered against the greenhouse roof.

Trisha looked up at the trickling rain above us,

“I didn’t bring an umbrella…”

Her cherished clothing would be ruined by rain, it seemed prudent that I go fetch an umbrella even if I end up drenched.

Before the rain intensified, several students hastily exited the greenhouse.

Trisha rubbed her waist and said,

“I’m getting a cramp!”

“Let’s take a short break.”

No sooner had I said it, she stood up and stretched out.

“I have to go to class soon!”

“Shall we call it a day then?”

It was getting dim anyway; continuing to paint would only compromise the background’s consistency.

“Yeah. Take me with you!”

“Wait.”

I finished packing up my supplies. In the meantime, Trisha, with a cookie in her mouth, examined the abandoned easels.

She paused in front of Pavela’s painting and quietly observed it.

I gathered my gear and walked up beside Trisha.

She lamented the painting,

“It’s such a waste…”

She had painted the ocean. Two figures, possibly a man and a woman, sat on an unpainted beach watching the sea. A straight line in monochrome slashed through the middle. Instead of an angry stroke, it seemed to be a mistake, a brush dropped out of carelessness.

A significant blunder, it looked too difficult to fix, and abandoning the painting might be for the best.

Trisha remarked as she looked at it,

“It looks so poignant. Such a pity.”

“…Done looking? Let’s go.”

“I want to see the painting you did!”

I pointed to the painting of Silveryn,

“Over there. Go ahead.”

Halfway to my painting, Trisha paused before another and couldn’t take her eyes off it.

“Will you move, or should I leave you behind?”

Prompted by me, she finally proceeded.

While Trisha admired the painting, I searched for something to use as an umbrella. There was a large-leafed plant that might have worked, but borrowing from nature without permission was out of the question. Reluctantly, I took off my coat.

After checking out the painting, Trisha rushed back to me with her opinion,

“They feel similar.”

“What does?”

“The senior’s painting, and yours.”

“Stop talking nonsense and keep still.”

I draped the coat over Trisha’s head and tied the sleeves like a present.

It should protect her against the rain as we made our way between buildings.

Having secured the makeshift raincoat around her, Trisha’s dimples showed through her smile.

“What will you do without it?”

“I’m fine; let’s go.”

The rain, once pouring heavily, whimsically turned into a drizzle. I grasped Trisha’s wrist, stepping outside the greenhouse.

As we made our way, Trisha looked up at me with concern,

“You can’t get wet!”

Then she placed her palm on top of my head. It hardly shielded me from the rain, but the thought amused me, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

Thus, in amicable accord, we walked on under the rain when Trisha suddenly mentioned something she noticed,

“But… I saw a strange painting.”

“Tell me about it.”

“A painting with a woman sitting by the Guardian Tree, her hair color similar to mine.”

It was the same painting the senior had been working on throughout the class. The masked stranger from the previous day was undoubtedly him, and he didn’t seem to hide who he was.

“That’s why I told you to be careful. It seems that senior somehow caught a glimpse of you.”

“How could…?”

“He must’ve seen you sneaking out. Mistook you for the priestess of the Guardian Tree.”

Trisha puzzled,

“That doesn’t make sense. How could he?”

“You and I both need to be careful. Sometimes I almost get nervous that my disguise will slip.”

“No, I’ve never been to the Guardian Tree without my disguise.”

“…What do you mean?”

“I’ve never gone there without my disguise on!”

“…….”

“And the woman in the painting had silver hair. Mine’s pure white. That’s a huge difference.”

I halted mid-step, and Trisha, noticing belatedly, turned to me with confusion,

“It’s raining, what are you doing?”

Another figure flashed through my mind.

If it wasn’t Trisha, perhaps it was another person I knew.

She might also be walking the pathways of Eternia. As long as I am here, our paths are bound to cross someday.

I only wish that day would be as distant as possible, like a dull ache pinned in some recess of my heart.

I tried to reject the thought. If not Trisha, it could actually be the priestess of the Guardian Tree who had been sighted.

I preferred to believe it was just that.

Trisha wrapped her arms around herself, shivering,

“Why is it so cold? Let’s hurry up!”

We proceeded, and at the entrance porch of the magic department, we paused. It seemed Trisha had her class here.

She handed me back my coat, then touched my face with what looked like concern, her hands slightly trembling.

I narrowed my eyes,

“What are you doing?”

“Damian, you look pale. Are you cold, pretending not to be? Silly!”

“No, I’m alright. Just let me know when class ends. I’ll come with an umbrella to pick you up.”

“It finishes in three hours. And what will you be doing?”

“Practicing.”

“…In the rain?”

When I’m in a sour mood, I need to keep moving. Otherwise, I get consumed by my thoughts.

“Yes.”