Elixirs and Awkward Alliances

The prisoner who had endured a year of captivity without a word or a tear. The same strike that had made the original Ariang Aosta weep instantly.

“Go ahead, hit me.”

“You seem to think I won’t.”

The Imperial Class of Sky Castle Academy is the outlier here. Normally, nobles are strictly forbidden from committing acts of violence against one another. First-years, who have just entered this world, shouldn’t be capable of such spite unless they are truly pushed to the brink.

Slap!

“Kyaaaaakh—ugh!”

Lady Colmar shrieked, then quickly clamped her hand over her mouth. She was trying to maintain the dignity befitting the daughter of a Duke. But despite her effort, her eyes were wide and trembling with terror.

“Two more to go.”

“I… it doesn’t matter! Do it! It didn’t even hurt!”

I considered using my left hand for the next one, but her bravado changed my mind. I’d strike the same spot.

Slap!

“Aaaaaakh! Ah, ah!”

This time, her inner cheek split, and a spray of blood escaped her lips. The moment she saw the red on her own hands, Lady Colmar’s eyes went vacant.

And then:

“Hic… wahhhhh, Mommy!”

“…”

“Mommy, uwaaaaah! Sob.”

Where is your mother? Why do you keep looking for her? Still, crying after only two hits makes her tougher than the original Ariang. I did this to win the power struggle, but I started to feel like the villain. Not that being “bad” bothers me—I’ve killed enough people for that not to be an issue. But I didn’t expect her to actually break down like a child. I thought she’d endure it out of pure spite.

I stepped forward to deliver the promised third strike, but the other two Duchesses glared at me in shock. Glaring? I took one step toward them, and they scrambled backward. If they were truly her friends, they’d at least make a show of trying to stop me. No loyalty among these thieves.

“I believe there’s one more left.”

“N-no! Noooo! It hurts!”

Lady Colmar collapsed, cradling her face. I felt an impulse to step on her while she was down, but I decided that would be crossing a line of decorum.

The first-years were looking at me as if I were a monster. I had officially become the “Evil Woman” of the class. Honestly? It’s not a bad position. These girls had been whispering behind my back anyway.

Since I had promised to discipline Ancy on their behalf, I couldn’t leave her untouched either.

“Get up, Ancy.”

“A-Ariang.”

“You won’t survive in the Empire if you keep defending the Blood-Soaked Count. These girls are being hit because of you.”

I couldn’t go easy on her. Her commitment to historical truth was admirable, but… unless her views were “corrected” to suit the seniors’ tastes, the entire first-year class would suffer.

*****************************

“Please inform her.”

“Lady Colmar, a visitor is here to see you.”

The maid’s voice was small but clear as she announced my arrival through the door. It was the first time I’d visited a lady’s private room at this hour, but since I’m playing the part of a girl, I ignored the awkwardness.

“Wh-who is i-it?”

Her voice was muffled and distorted because of her swollen cheek. Poor thing. This is why you don’t act tough; they should have just done the hitting themselves.

“It’s me. Ariang Aosta.”

“Eek?! Why? Why are you here?”

Why is she so scared? It’s not like I bullied her; she literally asked me to hit her.

“I missed you.”

I pushed my way inside, leading with my sheer physical presence. I’d learned a bit of shamelessness from the girl I recently tore apart.

“Wh-what do you…”

The rules for classmates are quite loose. Since first-years aren’t allowed personal maids, sharing a room is common. Of course, there are strict—and surprisingly graphic—punishments for “romance” between female students at Sky Castle.

“Did you think I came to hit you again? There’s no point.”

“Then… did you come to kill me?”

I was taken aback for a second. I mean, I am here to kill someone. Since I’d already thrashed her, I just gave her a light flick on the forehead.

“Ouch! What was that for? You said you wouldn’t hit me!”

“Who’s killing who? Here.”

“W-what is this?”

“An Elixir. Absinthe flavor.”

“Absinthe?”

Elixirs are this world’s version of potions. They’re made by distilling fermented herbs. In the Aosta Mountains—the Blood-Soaked Count’s territory—the Empire and Kingdom compete to produce the best specialities. They provide instant healing and mana replenishment. Overuse makes the world spin, though. Your tolerance depends entirely on the health of your liver. In this world, a healthy liver means better combat endurance.

“Is it… poison?”

“It’ll heal your mouth instantly, so stop talking nonsense and drink.”

“Ugh.”

I used my thumb and forefinger to squeeze her cheeks, forcing her mouth open. She looked like an actress in a historical drama being forced to drink hemlock.

“How does the wound feel?”

“Oh… uh… it… it feels better.”

Elixirs are essentially high-proof spirits. Curiously, even in a world without alcohol regulations, few minors have ever tasted a drink. I suppose some “Higher Law” is influencing things.

“Good. We’re done then.”

“Why are you doing this? Do you think I’ll forget this humiliation just because… Ouch!”

I flicked her again. She seems to think I’m lobbying her because I’m afraid of Duke Colmar. I don’t mind her thinking that, but it’s a bit insulting.

“Don’t forget. Feel free to keep resenting me. I’ll just pay you back in kind.”

“Why did you go that far? Did you have to?”

You asked for it…

“I don’t hate you, but you hate me. That’s why.”

“Then why give an Elixir to someone who hates you?”

“Because I told you, I don’t hate you.”

“Well, I hate you!”

“How childish. Just because you show hatred doesn’t mean I have to reflect it back. People aren’t mirrors.”

“Usually, they are.”

“Maybe. But I’m not.”

“Ariang Aosta, you must have a very broad heart. And a broad chest, too.”

Should I headbutt her? She’s really poking at my complexes.

“You’re just trivial to me. Your hatred doesn’t feel threatening, because you aren’t a threat. There’s no reason for me to bristle my quills at something so small.”

“Trivial?!”

“You’re all just kids. Look at you. You couldn’t even commit to the discipline, you couldn’t win over your peers, you acted tough only to get hit, and then you cried for your mother.”

“Can… can you leave? I don’t want to hear this. Being older doesn’t give you the right to everything.”

She really lacks a sense of rhetoric. She could have blamed me for “excessive punishment” despite her request, or used her injuries to paint me as a monster. She missed every opportunity.

“I’m also very strong.”

“I noticed…”

“Get some rest. Since I’m ‘lobbying’ you, I’ll provide medicine for the pain.”

I gave her cheek a light pat and turned to leave. Touching a stranger’s face is a breach of etiquette, but I’d already forced a drink down her throat.

“Wait, Ariang Aosta.”

“Yes?”

“It’s Sienna.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s my name.”

Using given names. In a world without common surnames like Kim or Park, family names usually suffice. Asking to be called by a first name means either a need to distinguish oneself within a family or a request for a friendship where rank is set aside. The Academy actually encourages classmates to use first names.

“So you’re planning to entrust your end to me?”

Clearly, she was trying to be friendly, but I brushed it off with a joke. I wasn’t here to make friends; I was practicing the art of “managing” people—inflicting public humiliation and violence, then privately offering comfort so they don’t harbor a grudge. It’s a classic superior-to-subordinate move: “Did it hurt? Are you upset?”

It would be good to have an informant among the first-years who has contact with the high-ranking seniors, but I didn’t think such a small gesture would result in true friendship. Relationships need causality and justification.

“My… end?”

“People usually state their full name right before a duel where they entrust their lives to their opponent, don’t they?”

“Ariang, is even your brain aggressive? People just use names normally.”

“If you’re asking to be friends, I’ll assume you’re just too shy to say it. I’ll let it slide.”

Was that acting okay? Who knows. Next, I visited Ancy’s room.

“What are you doing?”

“Ah… wh-what brings you here?”

She’d been speaking informally to me the whole time, but after seeing the violence, she was suddenly terrified.

“If I’m not welcome, just take this. It’ll make you feel better.”

“What is… oh, wait. No way.”

So she knows what it is, even coming from a remote area. My territory, Ariang’s territory, and the Montparnasse territory—all three are either in or adjacent to the same mountain range. If the three of us hung out, we’d have plenty to talk about, like a mountain climbers’ club.

“It’s an Elixir. Drink it and heal up.”

Normally, someone who gives the sickness and then the medicine is a villain, but humans are hardwired to feel hope in such situations.

“Really? Where did you get this?”

Most noble girls bring a few as emergency medicine. The infirmary and the Knights have them too. They’re expensive, but a knight usually carries at least one bottle. I, however, own the distillery and mass-produce them for my soldiers. My Inventory is full of them.

“Those bruises are quite visible. Use it to treat them.”

“Th-thank you.”

“I’m the one who hit you. No need for thanks.”

Regardless, Elixirs have a high alcohol content, so her face began to flush.

“Once you’re healed, I’ll be going. I won’t say I’m sorry for today.”

“Wait, Ariang.”

“Yes?”

“Can I call you ‘Riang’?”

“Not in front of the others.”

“But you use formal speech with the other ladies.”

Give them a little medicine and suddenly everyone wants to be best friends. I was literally just beating her.

“Our ranks are different, Ancy. Our ages too. And I cannot tolerate defense of the Blood-Soaked Count.”

“But it’s true that he saved me… and the Eastern ladies in our class.”

She’s stubbornly upright. It’s foolish.

“I understand. But don’t say that in front of the seniors.”

“I can’t promise that…”

“What?”

She really is beyond help. It’s a headache because she’s on my side. She’s the ultimate “troll” teammate. I can’t exactly tell her that the commander of the enemy nation who saved her life is currently preparing to thrash her classmates just to look good in front of the seniors.

“You still haven’t learned your lesson. Next time I hit you, I won’t be this gentle. Elixirs have limits, so don’t waste it.”

“But still.”

“Hmm?”

“If people keep making him out to be a monster and gathering people to kill him, war will break out again. It might really happen.”

I was slightly surprised. Ancy actually has some insight. If you keep blaming the “demon” on the other side, the mistakes of those who caused the war on your own side remain hidden. And as long as those mistakes aren’t addressed, you’ll be dragged into war once again.

“…Isn’t the Blood-Soaked Count just a bad person?” I asked, playing dumb.

“Maybe I saw him wrong, but at least he saved my life. Those who were saved by him shouldn’t act like this.”

“I haven’t heard any such stories.”

“That’s why I have to tell people. He had a good side. He doesn’t have to be eliminated. We could even be friends.”

“Friends with him?”

“I… I wish we could be.”

A tiny smile tugged at my lips, but I didn’t want her to see it. I ignored her and left the room.

***********************************

“Senior, just in case… that one. The tall, pretty one. I’d like you to bring her along.”

“Hmm, alright. I understand.”

The third-years from the Imperial Class left after making a request to Rene. The way they mentioned Rene and “the tall one” didn’t sound good.

“Is something going on?”

“Well… apparently Girona won’t be in class for a week.”

“Is that so?”

Rene stared into my eyes, her expression hardening.

“Tell me the truth. Did you take her out?”