Chapter 118

Click.

Trisha locked the door after confirming the hallway was empty.

“I’m sorry to have made you come all the way here yourself. As the dorm supervisor, I can’t exactly leave my post in the middle of the night. But sending a letter risked distorting the message or it being intercepted, so this was the best option.”

“You could’ve just come to see me during the day.”

“Oh my, are you telling a frail little vampire like me to walk under the sun? How cruel.”

Yeah, quit whining.

A close aide to a Vampire Lord could probably survive a day naked in the desert.

And once the sun sets, their blood-red eyes would burn with vengeance, flying off to take revenge on whoever threw them there.

“Just deliver your master’s message.”

Not long ago, I struck a deal with Keith D’Alembert, the Seventh Point of the Heptagram Society and a Vampire Lord.

If he gave me information, I’d offer him services in return.

I came here tonight to uphold that deal.

To Trisha, the dorm supervisor for the first-year dormitory and a vampire hiding within the academy.

“You’re aware that a cult has shown up in the region my lord governs, yes?”

“I heard there was a territorial conflict. And your master asked me to fight the demon worshipers.”

Trisha nodded.

“My lord has obtained the enemy’s operational plans. Apparently, they’ll soon emerge to the surface to secure their sacrifices.”

“So you called me here to intercept them?”

“That’s right.”

“When and where?”

“This weekend. In the place where the fog settles thickest in this city.”

“Lowlands. Near the river, then.”

The royal capital of Lambart was built along a river.

The Henn River, which ran north to south through the city, was wide and calm and perfect for water transport.

Since the early days of the kingdom, it had been the center of commerce and the foundation of the city’s development.

The many large and small ports that sprang up along the river became the lifeblood of the city, constantly ferrying people and goods.

But on foggy days, the area could turn into a maze where you couldn’t see an inch ahead, even at high noon.

Whether it was the enemies trying to abduct their sacrifices or Keith D’Alembert trying to lure them in…

“They’ve picked the perfect hunting ground.”

Trisha smiled.

“The enemy plans to secure at least forty sacrifices this time.”

“Forty? That’s a pretty conspicuous number, isn’t it?”

“They must think that if it’s just residents from the lowlands, no one will care if they go missing.”

That’s pretty much how people treat those living in the slums.

“But they’re definitely overreaching this time. Which means we’ve got a good chance to lay a proper trap.”

As she said that, Trisha unrolled a scroll and spread it out on the table.

When she lit it up with magic, a map of the lower Henn River region appeared.

The locations of major ports and docks were marked in bold, and dotted lines traced the tributaries that were navigable by boat. The scattered rectangles indicated the locations of warehouses for storing goods.

A map this detailed of the city would typically be classified as military intelligence.

“You really managed to get your hands on this?”

“Our blood-bound comrades are everywhere in the kingdom.”

I pointed to some prominently overmarked symbols scattered across the map.

“What are these symbols that appear in multiple places?”

“They’re free shelters operated by our Night’s Guardians.”

The Guardians of the Night was a foundation run by Keith D’Alembert and his vampires. It was supposedly a charity that helped the poor.

Their official goal was to offer food and lodging to the needy in exchange for a bit of blood… but I quickly realized the real purpose.

“You’re using them as bait to lure in the cultists?”

“As expected, you’re as sharp as ever, Professor.”

To meet their goal of acquiring forty sacrifices, the demon worshippers would likely target areas with large crowds.

And to them, the powerless and unarmed poor were nothing more than easy prey.

“If we can narrow down where the enemy will appear, your hunt will go much more smoothly, right?”

“Still, for a trap, aren’t there too many locations to defend?”

“No need to defend them. They’re meant to be given up from the start.”

When I looked at her, silently demanding an explanation, Trisha just shrugged.

“In this operation, we won’t be joining the fight ourselves. We’ll simply buy time and retreat, just to make your hunt easier, Professor. It’s all to draw the enemy deeper inside.”

“But if you do that, you’ll be handing over the sacrifices they want.”

“Oh, a few poor people dying doesn’t really matter. What’s important is inflicting losses on the enemy.”

In the end, whether it’s these people or those cultists, neither side gives a damn about human lives.

“I understand the general outline of the plan. So, what level of results are you expecting?”

Trisha’s eyes glinted coldly.

“As many cultists killed as possible. And the life of the High Priest leading this sacrifice-gathering operation.”

“High Priest” was the term demon worshippers used for their high priests. They were mid-level commanders, in essence.

In Candela of Judgment, they were treated as decent mid-bosses.

Of course, Winter Winslet was considered the main boss, so this hunt shouldn’t be too difficult.

“Also, my lord gave two very specific instructions.”

“Two?”

“That you must face the enemy with your identity revealed. And that the enemy must not realize any connection between you and my lord.”

“You mean, when the cultists begin their attack, I should just happen to be nearby ‘by chance’?”

“I’m glad you catch on quickly.”

Keith D’Alembert didn’t take kindly to others encroaching on his territory, but he also didn’t want the conflict with the demon cult to escalate into a full-blown war.

So, the idea was to gift them an “unfortunate event” named Winter Winslet to make them lose interest in operating in this area.

“And doing so would benefit you as well, Professor.”

She wasn’t wrong.

I had no intention of making enemies with one of the Pillars of the Heptagram Society and adding another death flag to my list.

“Still, there has to be a reason why Winter Winslet would just happen to be wandering around the river… What would that be?”

“That’s something you’ll need to come up with yourself, Professor.”

“Hah.”

I gathered up the map on the table and tucked it into my coat.

“I’ll see you after the weekend.”

I turned to leave the dorm office, but Trisha caught hold of my sleeve, as if she had something more to say.

“By the way, Professor…has something happened to you recently?”

“……?”

“Oh, it’s nothing serious. You just seem… a lot more impressive than last time I saw you. Especially your mana… it’s gotten kind of more appetizing, I guess?”

The red eyes of the vampire locked onto my neck.

My mana quality had improved after surviving the Caraphine explosion… but was it that noticeable to others?

Well, given that their kind are basically born mosquitoes, maybe they’re just incredibly good at sniffing out blood.

“If you try pulling that blood donation stunt again, I’ll make sure it ends in a very memorable way.”

“Oh my, but we had so much fun last time.”

Fun, my ass.

Just then, a student outside the door happened to be eavesdropping, and we nearly caused a very awkward misunderstanding.

This time, to prevent anything like that from happening again, I swept the surroundings with a mana field now and then during the conversation.

There was no presence detected, so no one should’ve been outside the door.

At least, that’s how it should have been.

Click.

“……”

Then why, the moment I opened the dorm office door, did I run into such a familiar face again?

“…Shannon Quinlivan.”

It was Shannon, dressed in her pajamas.

But this time, she had deliberately masked her presence from the mana field.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was lying in bed, and suddenly I felt a strong mana field, so I came to check. I thought maybe someone suspicious had broken in…”

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“No.”

She denied it confidently, leaving me with nothing to press her on.

Shannon looked back and forth between me and Trisha, who was still in the room, then narrowed her eyes and said,

“But Professor, you and the dorm supervisor… are you two, by any chance…”

I frowned, already knowing where she was going with that, and Shannon quickly said, “Never mind,” before turning and walking away.

When I looked back, Trisha was smiling faintly.

“You always seem to get such dramatic reactions whenever you visit. You must be pretty popular with the students?”

At that, I twisted my lips in annoyance.

As if I’d ever come back to the dorm again.

***

Friday, just before the weekend.

The professors of the Magic Department had all gathered in one place.

It was because Dean Jonathan Kingfisher had called a meeting.

“The official notice was sent out on Monday, yet there’s still one unresolved issue. It’s about the external volunteer activity scheduled for this weekend.”

The moment those words came out of Dean Kingfisher’s mouth, a shadow fell across the professors’ faces.

Expressions that said, So it’s finally come.

The Academy’s external volunteer work was a regular event held four times a year, and at least one professor was required to accompany the students as a supervisor.

“I understand why you’re all like this. I get it. Bluefields Port, the area designated for this volunteer work, smells bad, it’s damp, and the public safety there isn’t great. But aren’t our students going there to volunteer? In that case, shouldn’t we, as educators, set an example first? Am I wrong?”

Dean Kingfisher let out a loud cough as several gazes filled with “Then why don’t you go yourself?” turned toward him.

After all, he didn’t want to spend his precious weekend tailing freshmen either.

“The point is, someone has to go with them anyway, so let’s not waste time playing a game of chicken. Let’s just pick someone quickly. Now, do we have any volunteers?”

When no one responded, Dean Kingfisher decided to single someone out and apply pressure.

Shifting unpleasant tasks onto others had been his specialty since his days working in the Department of Magical Administration.

“Professor Corrigan, according to the records, you didn’t participate as a supervisor for any of last year’s volunteer events. I’d say it’s about time your turn came around, wouldn’t you?”

“I’m already assigned as the supervisor for the second half of the year’s volunteer activity, Dean.”

“Hmm, then how about Professor Valdi?”

“I’d love nothing more than to volunteer, but my body won’t allow it. I’ve got a fracture in my shinbone.”

“Oh dear, how did that happen?”

“During class yesterday… I was lucky….no, unlucky enough, I suppose.”

“Haha… well then, how about Professor Wendy?”

“Actually, I have a fish odor allergy, so the docks are a bit of a problem for me…”

From the back of the conference room, someone let out a quiet laugh.

A vein popped on Dean Kingfisher’s forehead.

“Is this how you’re all going to be? This is for the students! For the Academy! Why are you all being so selfish? It’s about raising the Academy’s reputation, building ties with the community, and giving the students valuable experience! Isn’t that a wonderful thing?”

The professors’ reactions were ice cold.

After all, it was the students and the supervising professor who did all the hard work, while the higher-ups took the credit.

“If this is how it’s going to be, then I’ll simply appoint someone myself. No objections, I assume?”

As Jonathan said this, he swept his gaze across the room, and the professors hurriedly busied themselves with anything they could.

Some started rifling through papers; others took off their glasses and began polishing them intently.

Like goldfish scrambling to avoid a hand reaching into the tank, they all squirmed in desperation.

But despite their efforts, Dean Kingfisher called out a name.

“Hmm… Professor Winslet?”

“Huh?”

“What?”

Gasps of shock echoed among the professors at the dean’s choice.

Someone shot their hand into the air.

It was Professor Corrigan who was recently rising as a vocal supporter of Professor Winslet.

“Uh, excuse me? Our dear Professor Winslet doesn’t do volunteer work.”

“No, he raised his hand. I didn’t pick him.”

“Seriously?”

Corrigan turned around, and the man who had remained in dignified silence until now gave a small nod.

It was Professor Winter Winslet.

“I’ll go to Bluefields Port.”

Everyone’s eyes widened.

What on earth is going on?