Vinny # Nоvеlight # bought Shicodale a few more outfits at the Huavo Trading Company—only this time, not from the budget section but from the high-end noble racks. He picked several decidedly androgynous pieces: the kind of short-tie tops and hot pants noble boys wore, along with a pair of white stockings that didn’t reach the knee and little black leather shoes. One look and you’d peg it as that Western-fantasy, medieval noble style. Paired with Shicodale’s elf ears, it carried a curious allure.

Mm. Long-haired elf pretty-boy—the kind that would drive a priest insane.

Not cheap, but it was compensation money anyway. Waste not, want not.

Shicodale actually believed the excuse Vinny had tossed off earlier.

Could it be that Classmate Vinny had stumbled upon a stash left by his ancestor?

And “earned it as an idol,” he said?

After encountering human culture, Shicodale had some idea what an idol was.

He grew curious which ancestor of Vinny’s it might be.

“Vinny, this money—really earned by your ancestor after debuting as an idol?” Shicodale asked, savoring the feel of the comfortable fabric against his skin.

“Mm. Yes.” Vinny felt half amused, half helpless. He hadn’t expected this silly kid to swallow it whole, but he didn’t elaborate.

“Thank you for the gift, Vinny. I’ll cherish it.”

“But... using your ancestor’s money to buy me clothes—isn’t that not so great?” Shicodale fidgeted.

“It’s fine. I asked that ancestor. She has no objections,” Vinny said.

“Huh? You... asked?” Shicodale’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah. She came to me in a dream. Told me those assets were from when she debuted and sang as an idol, and that I could use them however I wanted,” Vinny joked.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a lie. His ancestor had visited his dreams—more than once. And she really had been the type to talk about wanting to debut as an idol and sing, even if history hadn’t recorded that side of her.

“Speaking of, Vinny—aren’t you buying yourself something?” Shicodale noticed only he was in new clothes while Vinny still wore the same old set.

“No need.” What he meant was: he already had one set of noble formalwear for high-end banquets, and one was enough. He didn’t care much about clothes. If they fit and looked decent, fine. The rest weren’t ragged; if they were wearable, they were fine.

To Shicodale, though, Vinny buying him clothes while refusing to get himself even one piece was moving. In reality, Vinny just didn’t need more clothes—and he already had a top-tier formal set.

And as for top-tier formalwear—how could anything off the rack compare to something gifted personally by Aesphyra?

Virtue + 50

Current Virtue: 8634

With the shopping done, they stepped out of the store.

“Classmate Dale, about Black Dale’s pattern of appearances—have you figured anything out?” Vinny asked on the way.

“Eh? Black... Dale?” Shicodale blinked, clearly not following.

“Your other personality. I’m calling him Black Dale for now. Doesn’t it fit?” Vinny explained.

“Black Dale? What does that even mean?” Shicodale couldn’t help asking.

“The blackened version of Classmate Dale—so, Black Dale,” Vinny said, unfazed. “Can’t I call him that?”

“Mm... it’s not that you can’t. I just... worry it’ll upset her, and next time she shows up, she’ll make things difficult for you.”

“You’re not her. How do you know she’ll be upset?” Vinny shot him a look. “From what I can tell, Black Dale shares all your memories. Which means what you know, she knows; what you don’t, she still knows. In other words, she might be watching our conversation right now.”

“Then... Vinny, aren’t you in danger?”

“It’s fine. Black Dale isn’t as unreasonable as you think. Look at the times we live in. We’re civilized people. Who just throws hands without a word?”

“Uh... as for patterns, my Second Personality shows up very rarely,” Shicodale said, pinching at the sleeve cuff, apparently fascinated by the human tailoring.

“I noticed,” Vinny nodded. An entire semester together without a single appearance—obviously she seldom emerged and almost never interfered with Shicodale’s normal life.

“I think she appears when I run into a problem I can’t solve,” Shicodale mused. “She forcibly takes over my consciousness.”

“Can you call to her—talk to her in the void—and have her take control?” Vinny pressed.

“That? No.” The answer was firm. “I’ve tried to communicate with her and gotten nothing back.”

“At the time I was alone, really helpless. I just wanted someone to help me, and I suddenly thought of her. I tried to talk to her, but it all failed. She wouldn’t give advice. No response at all.”

So Shicodale had tried.

They reached the house—and saw a familiar figure at the door.

Karin, Mirexia’s personal maid.

“Miss Karin, we meet again. Thank you for your help before,” Vinny said politely, with formal respect.

“You needn’t thank me—thank my lady. When Her Highness learned you were in trouble, Lord Vinny, she stepped away from state business at once and personally took charge of the pursuit of the assassins who attacked you,” Karin said, all business. “I’ve never seen Princess Mirexia so invested in any one person.”

“I see. Please thank Mirexia for me,” Vinny said, warmth blooming in his chest. “Shall we talk inside?”

“No need. I came to inform you: there’s a problem with the investigation’s progress,” Karin said, official to the bone. “The palace soldiers found no leads despite their utmost efforts. The assassins covered their tracks thoroughly, and they left no living captives—though leaving one alive would have been difficult anyway.”

She glanced at Shicodale. “They were most likely assassins raised from childhood by the mastermind—trained as death-sworn. Even if captured, they had means to kill themselves.”

“I’m here because Her Highness Mirexia wants to ask: in Camella’s capital—or outside it—have you provoked anyone who bears a great hatred for you?”

“Well.” Vinny leaned back. On this topic, he had a lot to say.

“Mirexia

Clearly, after returning to the capital I’d been acting a bit too high-profile.

Let’s just hope it isn’t what I think it is.

Would the Dawn Church do this? Honestly, Vinny didn’t think so—but he couldn’t rule it out.

Even if the assassins were theirs, the purpose was certainly not to kill him. It felt like something else.

Otherwise, for an organization with reach like the Dawn Church to stage such a kiddie-level hit would be laughable.

So who did it? And why?

Fine—thinking about this is exhausting, and Vinny truly couldn’t puzzle it out.

Time slipped by, and the rest of the summer grew ordinary.

To prevent another attempt on Vinny’s life, Mirexia increased the patrols around his home. Vinny often saw guards passing by the house.

Beyond that, his reputation among the capital’s nobles somehow improved a bit. At least no one came over for no reason to pick fights or roll their eyes at him.

Soon Vinny felt that coming home for break wasn’t much different from life at the academy. In fact, home felt less safe than the academy. At Carillian Academy, students would never run into assassination attempts.

Shicodale still lived with him as his roommate—still cooked daily, still kept house. Mirexia was still busy, still working overtime; he rarely saw her and only occasionally received a few greetings, some palace fruit and pastries, and an inquiry via Karin asking whether he had any trouble.

At the academy, at least Vinny had Student Council duties, which meant some chances to see Mirexia. Back home, he didn’t see her at all.

Honestly, living like this wasn’t much fun. More importantly, without Student Council work, his wallet couldn’t hold out.

Maybe this was too leisurely?

Although... wasn’t it the same at the academy?

Was it? Maybe not.

At the academy, a certain hateful white-haired fun-sized bun would always find a way to come pester him and watch him tilt. Now...

Vinny had to admit that, to some extent, that fun-sized bun kept his life from being so dull. Like dumping a fistful of pepper into soup—good or not, you’ll remember the taste.

At least on break he wouldn’t get riled up by that bun.

Sigh. Bottom line, he was just too idle.

He’d longed for vacation when term began; now that vacation was here, he longed for classes to start. People are never satisfied.

To be blunt, life at home really couldn’t compare to life at the academy.

The food was worse by far, the environment worse by far, and there wasn’t a crowd of card-playing buddies. No wonder he felt bored.

And the biggest reason, in his mind, was that he didn’t have enough money.

Think about it: do the children of nobles feel bored at home? Of course not. They’ve got money and can play at anything. He couldn’t.

With that thought, Vinny sprawled on the sofa again, daydreaming about how he’d live after graduation when he had money—this and that, in grand style.

Days slipped past like a white colt over a crack. The long break came to an end.

The capital’s students set out for the academy once more.

Carillian Academy’s unicorn coaches came to fetch them again. This time few were surprised; after so many rides, it was old hat.

After several days on the road, the students arrived safely at Carillian Academy.

“Vinny, we’re here,” Shicodale said.

“Ah!” Vinny climbed down, giving a huge stretch as he wobbled off the coach with his luggage alongside Shicodale.

Back at the academy again. Mm—the sunlight was a bit stabbing.

No sooner had they arrived than Mirexia hurried off to academy business and parted ways with Vinny. Funny—by the looks of it, he actually saw Mirexia the most either at the academy or on the coach.

A thought struck Vinny.

No wonder the original scriptwriter set Mirexia as the canonical main wife.

With that tireless workhorse style, he’d never seen her idle. Her sense of duty was too strong to allow it.

Which, in the original, left Aesphyra with all kinds of opportunities.

What kind of opportunities? Flirting opportunities, of course.

When Aesphyra flirted with Shicodale, the main wife Mirexia was working overtime.

When Aesphyra flirted with Milian, the main wife Mirexia was still working overtime.

When Aesphyra flirted with Isatia Lanteville, the main wife Mirexia was still working overtime.

Who could be more suited than Mirexia to be the main heroine of a citrus-crystal-palace style game?

Quietly supporting the protagonist Aesphyra, yet unable—because of work—to stop Aesphyra from flirting around, ending up with more and greener hats without realizing it, even frequently becoming Aesphyra’s inadvertent assist.

The original scriptwriter really persecuted Mirexia. Too cruel.

After hauling all the luggage back to the dorm, Vinny wiped his sweat and exhaled.

Looking at the living room, dusted over a bit, he felt a measure of peace.

Maybe because this was where he truly began to climb out of the pit—he had a special feeling for the place.

They were already in the second half of first year. So, what happened in the second term?

Vinny thought it over. Memory was mostly useless—his grasp of later plot only got fuzzier.

But he did remember this much: in the original, Vinny stirred up a huge incident in either the second term or the first term of second year—blew up Carillian Academy and took Aesphyra along with it.

(Writer’s block over. New plot and new route tomorrow 0.0)