After class, a group walked together—classmates close to Aiwas, eager to attend his comndation ceremony, hoping to witness the spectacle.
Aiwas generously agreed to bring them along.
“Honestly, Aiwas, I’m a bit suspicious…” Aiden, walking ahead, turned to complain. “Did the Inspectorate seal the White Slipper Club just to use it for free as the ceremony venue?”
“Could be,” Angela said, grinning. “It’s year-end, and their budget’s tight.
My mom says the Inspectorate must spend their allocated funds but not overspend. So, every year-end, they’re either burning money or pinching pennies. Last year’s budget was definitely off.”
Her words carried weight—her mother worked at the tropolitan District’s Second Inspectorate Bureau.
The tropolitan District, northwest of Red Queen and mirroring Lloyd District in White Queen’s southeast, was more inland. Beyond it lay Garden City.
As Glass Island’s largest, most populous, and liveliest district, it needed three Inspectorate bureaus for coverage. Unlike chaotic Lloyd, it had excellent security, abundant resources, stable prices, and robust infrastructure. Its proximity to Garden City ensured a pleasant environnt.
It was the main hub for Avalon’s ordinary citizens, less hectic than the port and less solemn than Red and White Queen near Island-in-the-Island.
Public carriages, carrying nearly thirty passengers, had recently started, improving mobility.
So students visited tropolitan for fun—less thrilling than Lloyd, pricier, with fewer shady offerings, but safer for those wary of Lloyd’s Strangler Gang.
“This year, most of the Inspectorate’s budget went to Lloyd,” Angela said. “Inspectors transferring there get an 80% salary boost, with another 30% guaranteed within a year.”
“Sounds dangerous, but they’re paying big,” she added.
“Probably because the Strangler Gang’s gone wild,” another Theology student sighed. “I heard they’re attacking inspectors now—is that true?”
“Likely,” Angela nodded. “They found a ‘strangled’ inspector’s corpse—clothes stripped, valuables taken, even eyes and tongue removed.”
Her cheeks flushed. “This one was worse… his, uh, lower parts were cut off.”
She turned to Aiwas. “What’s your take, Professor Aiwas?”
“It suggests the Pelican Bar wasn’t the only ritual material source,” Aiwas said calmly, choosing delicate words. “It’s a high-grade substitute for ram materials, especially black rams. So demon scholars smoke and dry them with sage to restore vitality and dark mana. Using superhuman parts yields more mana…”
Despite his tact, silence fell.
Aiden hissed, wincing as if in phantom pain.
“Where’d you learn that, Aiwas?” Angela asked, blushing. “Library?”
“From Basic Ritual Studies, classmates,” a familiar voice interjected, making them flinch.
It was Lady a, who’d left class early. Now, she wore a silver mitre with three small candles, having ditched her teaching bag.
Aiwas hadn’t gone straight to the White Slipper Club. He’d returned to his dorm to fetch the “Key Holy Sword” from Bishop Mathers.
The assassin wasn’t dead. With Adaptation path vitality, she’d likely recovered by now.
In a crowd, Aiwas couldn’t use his Shadow Demon. If she sought revenge, it’d be trouble.
So, he brought the sword, able to pay 33 fire mana for its monthly Holy Sword Art—enough to survive until help arrived.
A Holy Sword dal ceremony, among Avalon’s top three honors, rare in peaceti, especially for a Moriarty, would draw Round Table knights.
If Aiwas held out, rescue was certain.
His detour let a, also grabbing items, get ahead.
“Lady a,” the students greeted respectfully.
She smiled, mimicking a cat’s paw wave. “If it’s from a superhuman and long enough, no drying’s needed. Fresh works for demon-summoning diums, but you need more—at least a ter to form a circle with space for offerings and runes.”
Unlike the teens, a, age unknown, spoke freely, almost roguishly. “Ritual Studies is elective, available next sester. Not just you, but aspiring inspectors should take it to spot demon scholars.
You’ll handle various materials—male and female parts, hearts, brains, livers. You’ll learn to distinguish specins, organs, and ritual materials, human or animal. It’s on the exam.”
She grinned. “Don’t be shy—it’s like being a doctor. You’ll touch enough to identify materials blind. Priests study broadly; you’ll get it eventually.”
“Did you take it, Lady a?” Aiden asked.
“Of course,” she smiled, joining them. “I graduated here. My parents and grandfather were priests, brought together by the Candlekeeper. Their happy love led them to guide us onto this path.”
“What about your kids?” Angela asked.
“I have one, cutie,” a said, ruffling her hair, shocking them with her youthful look. “She’s eight, in Red Queen’s elentary school.”
“I know!” Aiden piped up. “Lady a visited my family’s antique shop with a little girl.”
“Vivian. I’ll introduce you soti,” a said, her face glowing tenderly.
Aiwas, trailing the group, watched silently.
For so reason, Isabel ca to mind.
He couldn’t recall his birth mother, Anne Alexander. His clearest “mother” mory was “Lulu’s” version.
He didn’t know Anne’s path, if any, but she sacrificed her life to save him from the Iron Hook Demon.
Aiwas was grateful for her selfless love.
They reached the sealed White Slipper Club, guarded by inspectors. Well-dressed adults, dia, and foreign guests entered.
Aiwas explained to a guard that his classmates were his guests, hoping to bring them in.
“Wait, Aiwas! Wait for !” Isabel’s slightly aggrieved voice called as his wheelchair neared the entrance.
Lily paused, turning him halfway.
Aiwas raised an eyebrow, seeing Isabel, not in uniform but a white dress with minimal yet elegant accessories, including her favorite pearl necklace with a yellow crystal rose.
Her waist-length blonde hair glowed in the sunset as she hurried over.
He chuckled. “Princess, you don’t need my invitation for a small event like this, do you?”
Isabel slowed, stopping before him, flustered.
“…I want to sit with them,” she said, eyes brightening. “I’m your friend, like them—so I’m their friend too!
I don’t want the front row; I want to sit with my friends!”
“Then co, Isabel,” Aiwas laughed. Lily smoothly turned the wheelchair, intuiting his wishes without command.
Isabel caught up, hearing, “Today, you’re not Avalon’s princess—just my invited friend. I saved the closest seat for you… If danger strikes, I’ll protect you.”
Aiden’s eyes widened. [Wasn’t that seat for ? I wanted cara ti!]
Glancing at Aiwas and Isabel, he wisely stayed silent.
Aiwas leaned toward her, whispering, “Our deal’s complete. We’re back in the sealed White Slipper Club, and I found you music- and dance-loving friends.
Compared to the club’s mixed crowd, these aspiring priests are safer friends, right?”
Isabel blinked, tilting her head.
[Does he not want befriending strangers?]
[Or am I misreading?]
For so reason, Isabel, who’d always craved friends, felt inexplicably happy.
*
(Chapter End)
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