The Distant Trail of Ciara Badvia - 1-7-1 Intensifying Bullying
This is EDITED MTL. Please adjust your expectations. Updates will be sporadic. Thank you for reading, and please support the author. Join the Luminary Novels Discord!
The Saria Magic Academy
Part 7: Professor Raknag’s Make-up Classes
The only class on Earthday was the third period Introduction to Kingdom History. As a class unrelated to the study of magic, students from various majors attended it, but even were it to fall in line with their respective field many still choose not to take it.
Alceste and the others were nowhere in sight, but as it happened, present were over a hundred students in total—both preparatory and regular students—which meant Tyril couldn’t survey every corner. Even so, the atmosphere in class was clearly different from usual.
During class, Tyril tried to adjust her foot and felt something weird, so she peered down. It turned out her shoes were firmly stomping down on a partially eaten egg sandwich.
This wasn’t here when I sat down. Where did it come from?
When she looked around, she saw everyone deliberately averting their gazes and stifling their laughter. Tyril sensed their disdain.
Later, after class, the girl sitting next to her accidentally spilled her drink as she tried to stand up. “Oops. Messed up,” she murmured, picking up the porcelain cup then wiping the table with a handkerchief.
Although it was only water, Tyril’s notebook was thoroughly damp in the upper right corner. But despite being right at the next seat and the notebook being impossible to miss, the girl offered no apology, even going out of her way to avoid the notebook and wiping only her part of the table and then quickly leaving the scene.
Dumbstruck, Tyril heard rude laughter bubbling from all around her. It seemed the air had changed to something so openly unwelcoming that even a three-year-old would notice—their treatment had morphed from baffled curiosity and into animosity. When the classroom finally emptied, Tyril quietly stood up, gently wiped the wet edge of her notebook with her own handkerchief, and began packing up her things. Inside, she felt miserable.
Good thing this is the only class for today. And it’s Darkday tomorrow, so at least I’ll be spared from this.
She didn’t know what the cause was but thought that surely, when the day passed, everyone would move on. With that in mind, she wiped away the tears welling up in her eyes with her palm.
In the end, she was the last one to leave. As she headed to Forster’s lab, Tyril decided to withhold what had just happened, knowing that her mentor wouldn’t pay any mind to her troubles. It would be more frustrating if she disrupted their routine over something so “trivial.”
Tyril didn’t tell Misty, either. Something of this level? This is nothing. Inwardly, she yelled as much to the students who took part in ridiculing her.
The day passed, but nothing changed.
In one class, as Tyril stood up, she suddenly felt some resistance at her feet and tripped, like she stumbled over a mass of conjured air. She sought out the culprit, but there was no way for her to tell who it was, and the usual giggling bubbled from her surroundings. One time she left her seat for just a moment, she returned with the tip of her pen broken off, rendering it unusable.
“Zeeland? Is something wrong?”
Those who seemed to take delight in her situation have even started approaching her. Tyril was glad at first, comforted by the fact that there was still someone kind enough to care in spite of the circumstances—but that didn’t last. They would come in with an intentionally exaggerated tone, then after a short conversation, leave with a “Huh, must be tough. Well, do your best!” and a wide smile on their face. It only put her down further.
The reason why they approached soon hit her. Ah. They’re just making a fool out of me… Her shoulders drooped at the realization, and she hated herself for it.
This all started after that day, back when she rebuffed Alceste and the others. Tyril believed the three of them were the instigators, of course, but this spiteful ridicule continued even in classes they weren’t in together. And in the classes that they were, all the trio did was watch from their seats in the back row with grins on their faces. So it kept Tyril wondering.
“Alceste?” Vanilla’s brushwork paused. “Um, you mean that big company in Arianess?”
“You know about it?” Tyril asked while stuffing her face with galraud.
Eating lunch in the cafeteria used to be feasible—the gazes people sent at her then were only a mild inconvenience—but now it had turned into a real problem. Recently, students she was completely unfamiliar with had taken to sitting next to her and accidentally sending juice or jam flying, staining her uniform. Having a peaceful meal there was no longer possible.
“Well, yeah. It’s a famous trading company. The Alceste family from the Republic of Arianess. They manage a transportation company too, and their trade routes extend widely, all the way from the south of Balth to the northern tips of Wendt. Naturally, they have significant influence in the kingdom.”
For her lunch break with Vanilla, Tyril bought something to eat and had her meal in the art room. She wasn’t sure if it was okay to bring food, but Vanilla had reassured her that it was perfectly fine as long as she didn’t mind the strong smell. Vanilla had also told her to not worry about anyone else coming so that she could relax.
“I’ve never met her, but now that I think about it, I heard there was a young lady with that name in my year. So, you’re being targeted by rich kids now?”
“Well… I can’t be sure, but I think they’re probably behind it all.”
Tyril continued to munch on her food, holding it with both hands. With the cafeteria now an unwelcoming place, she started hanging out at the art room more often, but she’d never consulted Vanilla about the bullying before now. The bullies were oddly cautious in their methods; when Tyril was with someone like Vanilla or Dyne—currently, the only ones she had classes with—the usual attempts never occurred.
Moving her brush again, Vanilla resumed her work. “I could stay with you for a while. You must be having a hard time, right?”
The offer made Tyril happy, but she couldn’t just accept and grow complacent. “I appreciate it, but no. I’m just grateful you’re with me in a few classes. It wouldn’t be right for you to go that far when you have your own classes to take.”
“So? I can fulfill my reason for being in this school as long as I can paint, so you don’t need to worry—it’s really okay. You can tell me anytime.”
Again, Tyril thanked Vanilla, who was smiling behind the canvas. Her friend didn’t say anything more and instead focused on her strokes.
What sort of pretentious bitch drinks water in class using a china cup? MTL and I might have fumbled there, but damn, that doesn’t stop it from being stupid.
Also, I’ve lightly edited some of the past chapters, which you’ll see the progress of in the Revisions sheet below.