Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor

Chapter 237: What’s the Color of Regret? [2]

If one were to ask where Aetherion’s first Princess had been during the entire fiasco, the answer would be simple.

“Why did you hide, Princess?”

She had been hiding.

Seated face-to-face with Vanitas, Irene fumbled with her hood before letting out a long sigh.

“I’m tired, Vanitas.”

“It must be because of Franz.”

“I’m not involved in any of this. However, the narrative paints it otherwise. I know my brother. He blamed me for the death of his ex-fiancée. He’d do the same now. I don’t understand it. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time. What kind of brother wishes his little sister dead?”

“Explain.”

It went something like this. During Olivia’s public hearing, the Empress addressed the growing protests. Irene had been nearby, called upon by the guards. But the moment she arrived was the very moment Olivia was killed.

“And how did the scene look?” Vanitas asked.

“It was… unpleasant. What frustrates me is that I was too late to stop anything, yet just in time for witnesses to see that I was there.”

Irene exhaled shakily, pulling her hood lower as if trying to hide from memories that refused to leave her alone.

“I tried to step in. I really did. But by the time I reached her, everything had already happened. And the people… they didn’t care who actually struck the blow. They only cared that someone from the Imperial Bloodline was in the wrong place.”

“So the crowd turned on you.”

“They will. Especially those old fools in the council,” Irene replied. “Everyone knows the tension between me and Franz. The nobility will use that to their advantage. It’s easier for them to pin the blame on me. I wasn’t beloved like Olivia. I wasn’t respected like Franz. I was always the nuisance Princess.”

Her voice dropped lower.

“Even if I wasn’t involved, even if I didn’t touch her… everyone saw me standing there. And that was enough.”

Olivia’s murder had undoubtedly been carried out by the oppressed working classes, those who had long fought for democracy, for their rights, for the end of sovereignty.

To them, the Empress was the symbol of everything they wanted to dismantle. And Irene, already ostracized by Aetherion itself, would naturally become the perfect suspect to lead such a movement.

The Council of Nobles painted it that way not out of personal hatred toward her, but because it conveniently hid their own incompetence. They had failed to protect their Empress. Blaming Irene allowed them to shift the narrative, to craft an enemy the people already mistrusted.

After all, she was the Princess who had built her influence through underground networks rather than the sanctioned path of nobility.

“They don’t care about what’s true.” Irene gave a tired laugh. “They just needed someone the people already distrusted. Someone whose downfall wouldn’t lead to outrage.”

“And now they want you gone,” Vanitas said. “No, they finally have a reason to have you legally gone.”

“They always did. Olivia was the only one who ever stood between us. She was the only one who took the initiative to root out the festering unrest in Aetherion. And now she’s dead. So of course, they went after the easiest story to tell.”

Her shoulders lowered.

“They think removing me will restore order. But all they’ve done is prove what Olivia kept warning them about. They never listened to her. They didn’t deserve her. None of us did.”

Naturally, the citizens were divided. Some fought fiercely for their rights, believing the Empire had long overstayed its welcome. Others insisted the system should remain exactly as it was.

Then there were those who simply wished to stay out of it altogether, watching the conflict from a distance and praying it would resolve without reaching their doorstep.

But neither of them was on Irene’s side.

It was, quite literally, Irene against the world.

“I see.”

“Anyway, where were you? I was waiting for you this whole time.”

Vanitas thought back to the north and felt his jaw tighten. The memory was a wound he had no desire to reopen, so he shook his head.

“I’ve been busy,” he said after a moment. “That’s why I came looking for you. I needed to get my facts straight, and I assumed you’d know more than those old retards sitting with their bellies open.”

“Oh? Vanitas Astrea, lacking information? That’s something new.”

“I’m not omniscient, Princess…”

“Well, you certainly try to be, you pretentious bastard.”

Vanitas let out a slow breath, not rising to the provocation. Irene crossed her arms, watching him with that glare she always used whenever she wanted to hide how tired she was.

“But Princess, this is where you’re misunderstanding something.”

“What do you mean?”

“You want to ask me for help, don’t you?”

“Why else?” Irene snapped. “You’re the only mediator between me and Franz. As much as I hate to admit it, you have the reins over us siblings. Astrid is fond of you, Franz trusts you, and…”

“And?”

“Alright, you’re a reliable bastard, okay? Your presence… puts me at ease…”

“Is that so?”

“Ugh, don’t make me repeat it.”

Irene turned her head away, cheeks tightening with irritation she clearly didn’t want him to see.

“I’m honored, Princess,” he said, trying not to sound sarcastic. “But you’re still misunderstanding something important.”

Irene frowned, arms crossing defensively. “And what would that be now?”

“I’m not here to help you.”

“What?”

“I’ve joined hands with Franz.”

“Ah—”

Before Irene could even process the words, several figures stepped out from the shadows. Armored guards closed in around her and seized her at once.

“W-What? What’s the meaning of this?! V-Vanitas?!”

Panic edged into her voice as she struggled against their grip. Vanitas did not move toward her. He simply watched from his seat without changing his expression.

One of the guards tightened his hold, forcing her to her knees.

“Vanitas!” she spat out. “Answer me! Why are you doing this?!”

“What must be done.”

“Vanitas!”

The guards dragged her forward, forcing her steps as she turned her head to look back. Irene’s eyes searched his face for any signs of assurance from the man she thought she could trust.

“….”

Vanitas had always been the type to carry a plan with layers. There had been times in the past when his actions seemed harsh at first glance, only for the truth to reveal itself later with purpose.

“….”

But in his eyes, there was nothing but emptiness. Not even a single hint that he intended to pull her out at the last second.

It was clear now. He had come only to hear her out… and to restrain her, regardless of what she said.

Irene stumbled as the guards pushed her forward. The distance between them widened.

“Vanitas… please…”

He didn’t even look at her.

The one person she believed would stand beside her, despite everything, despite the world turning against her, had chosen Franz’s side, that same person they promised to take down together.

“Vanitas!”

When they finally came out of view, Vanitas dusted his clothes and stood up.

“I wanted to hear you out more… but—” He clamped a hand over his mouth. “Cough…! That’s proving to be impossible—Cough!

* * *

“Hit me.”

The guard slapped his cards down on the sticky bar table as the dealer slid another card his way. The others groaned when he flipped it over.

“Bust. Again,” one muttered, tossing a chip onto the growing pile. “You sure you can pay off your debt?”

“Shut it. I’m one good hand away from getting back everything I lost.”

“Yeah? With luck that bad, you should’ve stayed at sixteen.”

Another guard leaned back, swirling a mug of cheap ale. “Better pray for a miracle or a blackjack, unless you want to owe the Captain another week of wages.”

“Please,” the first guard scoffed. “I’m counting cards.”

The sound of their laughter echoed through the smoke-tainted bar. Cards shuffled again as chips clacked against wood.

“Don’t play too much, boys. Christopher still has a family to feed.”

“You spoil him too much, Knight Nicolas. Let the man reap what he sows.”

Nicolas Machiavelli watched the game unfold with his arms crossed. He had already won more Rend than he cared to count. He didn’t look particularly impressed by any of it.

“I’m heading out. Have fun.”

Nicolas stepped outside the bar and took a long drag from his cigarette. The smoke drifted upward as he tilted his head to stare at the moon. The night was colder than usual, silent enough for him to hear the crunch of footsteps approaching from a distance.

“Huh?”

“It’s been a while, Nicolas.”

“Margaret? It has, indeed. What brings you here? How did you even find this place?”

Margaret lowered her hood as she approached, letting the dim moonlight fall across her face. Nicolas fixed his posture. He had once liked her in the past, back when he was still a young man with simpler dreams.

But when he devoted his sword to the Imperial Family, those feelings had been set aside. There had been no chance to pursue anything, and the flames had eventually died out on their own.

“I wish to speak to you in private,” she said. “Mind going for a second round somewhere else?”

“Of course. I’ve been wanting to catch up with you for a while.”

Margaret gave a small nod, a smile crossing her lips before fading just as quickly. Nicolas put out his cigarette and fell into step beside her as they walked away from the bar.

“Ah, this is…?”

“Do you remember this place?” Margaret looked down.

They sat on the windowsill of an abandoned church. Below them, a river flowed endlessly in slow currents.

“Yeah.” Nicolas nodded. “This is where we all went out for drinks after our second-year finals. Back then, we didn’t know any better.”

He let out a laugh. The memory washed over him with a sense of nostalgia. There had been a time when things were simple, when the biggest worries they had were exams and training drills.

They were just knights in training then, competing with each other over who could cheat the best without getting caught, laughing until their stomachs hurt whenever one of them got caught by the proctor.

“If Mydei weren’t so stupid,” Nicolas said, shaking his head, “he wouldn’t have gotten himself expelled.”

Margaret chuckled softly. “He tried to bribe the examiner with counterfeit Rend. I still can’t believe he thought that would work.”

“It almost did,” Nicolas said. “If he hadn’t spelled his own name wrong on the envelope, they never would’ve caught him.”

They both fell quiet for a moment.

“Hard to believe it’s been that long,” Margaret murmured. “Feels like another lifetime.”

“Yeah. Good times.”

For a while, they simply sat together, neither speaking. Then Nicolas glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Why Vanitas?”

Margaret blinked. “Hm?”

“During that final exam, he left us behind to save his own skin. I’m still angry about it even now. But what can I do? He’s the Emperor’s hand.”

“….”

Margaret didn’t reply immediately. The river below seemed to take on a heavier sound.

What should have been six of them graduating together ended with only two. Nicolas and Margaret had become knights. The rest never made it. Some were killed during the exam. Others were crippled beyond recovery. A few lived, but were traumatized into dropping out, either by force or by choice.

And Vanitas, the only one who’d emerged unscathed, had risen higher than any of them could have imagined.

Margaret stared out over the drifting river and said, “Be honest, Nicolas. If you were given a choice, you would have done the same thing. I know I would have.”

“That’s…”

Nicolas was genuinely shocked. Margaret, who had always prided herself on the Knight’s code of honor, had spoken something so dishonorable so easily.

“I know you tried to run too,” Margaret continued. “That’s why I did my best to buy time for you.”

Nicolas lowered his gaze. He couldn’t deny it.

“….”

“But you know how that turned out.”

Margaret had been gravely injured after the exam. Nicolas had been hurt too, not as severely as her, but enough for resentment to blossom.

But unlike Margaret, Nicolas had still graduated on time. Margaret, meanwhile, had been forced to repeat the year. The academy had made no exceptions for her injuries.

“He wasn’t the only coward there that day, Nicolas,” she said. “He just happened to be the one who survived without consequence.”

“…You’re saying we were no different.”

Margaret’s lips curled into a smile. “I’m saying none of us were heroes. We were just kids trying not to die.”

“And Vanitas?” Nicolas asked.

“As always, he was just smarter than those around him.”

A soft wind brushed past before Margaret spoke again.

“So, I’ve been wondering this whole time,” she said. “Where did it all go wrong for you?”

“Huh?”

“You were a peer I looked up to, Nicolas. Did you know that? After everything we went through, you became the Imperial Prince’s most trusted sword. So where did it all go wrong?”

“…?”

“Ah. Was it when Vanitas caught up to you? When he rose above you?”

“….”

“I understand why Vanitas sent me here now.”

Nicolas’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Why did you let the Empress die?”

“….”

Nicolas’s eyes widened immediately. Vanitas had given Margaret one instruction. “Find Nicolas.” But Margaret had pieced the puzzle together herself. For an Empress to die during a public appearance, the security had to have been compromised.

And Margaret knew Nicolas.

Nicolas wouldn’t have let the Empress die unless something was wrong at the core. His skill and pride wouldn’t allow it.

“Since when were you plotting to usurp the throne, Nicolas?” Margaret asked.

“What? That’s ridiculous.” Nicolas stood, turning away. “Was it Vanitas? Did he plant this nonsense in your head? I’ll speak to him right now. That damn opportunist is trying to push me out!”

He took a step, then froze.

“….”

A cold metallic edge pressed against the back of his neck, a thin line of blood trickling down his skin. In the corner of his eye, he saw Margaret, pointing a blade at his neck.

“Vanitas this, Vanitas that,” Margaret said, narrowing her eyes. “Is it wrong for me to come to my own conclusions?”

“What do you think you’re doing, Knight Illenia?”

“You think I came here without investigating first?” Margaret asked. “Every knight I spoke to told me the same thing. That Knight Machiavelli was in charge of security. That you were standing behind the Empress before she fell.”

“….”

“Sometimes, being competent is a curse. If you suddenly slip, people start asking why. And if you’re too competent, that slip-up will look like sabotage.”

“Margaret—”

Nicolas moved to draw his blade, but Margaret was faster.

Thud!

His head hit the ground and rolled, leaving a long smear of crimson as blood pooled beneath the body that collapsed at her feet.

Margaret stood still. Killing an old friend was painful. She was never the type to kill indiscriminately.

But she didn’t look away.

“Forgive me, Nicolas.”

* * *

Margaret returned at once, and the moment she stepped inside, the servants were in a panic.

“Ah, Knight Illenia, you’re here!” Vanitas’s butler, Evan, called out, rushing toward her.

“What happened?”

——Cough! Cough…!

The sharp sound of coughing echoed from the upper floor. Margaret didn’t need to think twice about who it belonged to.

“L-Lord Vanitas has been coughing nonstop,” Evan said, trembling. “I… I don’t want to assume anything, but it’s exactly how his mother was!”

“….”

Margaret’s expression hardened.

Without another word, she sprinted up the stairs. At the top, she found several maids surrounding Vanitas, trying desperately to hold him steady as he doubled over, coughing violently. Blood streaked down his chin and dripped onto the floorboards in thick drops.

“Lord Vanitas, please—”

“Get back,” Margaret ordered, moving through the cluster of servants.

Vanitas’s body trembled with every cough. His breathing came out ragged, and the sight of him so weakened broke something inside her.

“There, there. Easy. Sit upright,” Margaret said, guiding him gently as she took the glass of water one of the maids had prepared. “Here. Drink. Slowly. Someone refill this, now!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

A maid rushed off while Margaret held the glass to Vanitas’s lips. Blood still streaked down his chin. She kept her arm behind his back, supporting him as he swallowed the water in painful gulps.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “Breathe. Don’t force it.”

Vanitas leaned against her, his chest rising and falling. The maids stood unsure whether to help or simply stay out of the way, but Margaret didn’t take her eyes off him for a second.

“More water,” she ordered again. “And bring clean clothes. A lot of them.”

The staff scrambled immediately.

Margaret tightened her hold just a little, steadying him as another cough shook through his body.

It took nearly ten minutes for the coughing fit to subside. Vanitas sat there slumped forward, panting and drenched in sweat. He managed to lift a trembling hand and lightly tapped Margaret’s arm twice.

“I… apologize,” he murmured. “I tried to lie down, but this vertigo is killing me…”

Every time he tried to rest his head flat, vertigo washed over him. His vision would swirl in disorienting spirals, and the sudden rush of dizziness triggered a chain of symptoms such as nausea, pressure in his chest, sharp ringing in his ears, and sometimes even a temporary loss of balance.

Margaret steadied him by the shoulders. “Don’t lie down then. Stay seated. Lean against me if you have to.”

Vanitas gave a weak laugh. “What a sight… Vanitas Astrea, reduced to this.”

Margaret’s worry deepened. “Should I call the doctor?”

“No. Just… stay here. I’ll go tomorrow myself.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Do whatever you want.”

For a long time, they remained like that, saying nothing more. Vanitas leaned against her shoulder as he tried catching his breath. Margaret kept one arm around his back, steadying him each time a small tremor ran through his body.

“How long has this been happening?”

Vanitas closed his eyes. “A while.”

“A while meaning what? Days? Weeks? Months?”

“Months.”

Margaret’s hand tightened on his sleeve. “You idiot.”

“I thought I could manage it long enough to finish what needs to be done.”

“And now you can’t even lie down without collapsing,” Margaret muttered. “You should have told someone.”

“Doctor knows. It’s why I’m still alive.”

Margaret clasped his hand. “Please, don’t die.”

“I’m trying my best.”

Margaret moved closer, guiding him to lean more securely against her shoulder. His body relaxed slightly at the support she offered. The servants slowly moved out, trying not to disturb them, but neither of them paid attention to anything beyond the small space they occupied.

Vanitas closed his eyes and breathed slowly, feeling the warmth of her hand around his.

“What?” he said, opening his eyes to look at her. “Don’t look at me like I’m already dead.”

Margaret blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t realized how tightly she was holding him until he interlocked his fingers with hers.

“I’m not going anywhere yet.”