Chapter 15: Curse this lake.

Despite the wild dog incident, we safely returned to the academy.
Sanders confirmed everyone’s arrival and went to report the pack to the teachers.
Stray dogs near town were usually lone or in pairs—never a pack of 30, capable of hunting boars or deer.
Sanders speculated something drove them from their prey-rich mountain territory to the dangerous human settlement.

If a pack that large fled, whatever scared them off is likely a monster or magical beast.

We need to warn students and townsfolk.
Our large group, with eight magical beasts, repelled them, but even with protective undergarments, students alone could’ve suffered casualties.

“Thanks for noticing, Aray. How’d you know?” Sanders asks.
“It’s hard to explain… I felt their presence, their gaze,” I reply.
“That’s because he’s a… Rolling tribe,” Tarte says.
“So it’s true?”

Tarte’s careful not to out me as a “goblin” in public—considerate for once.
This odd sense is a Rolling trait, detecting magic leaking from others, like their gaze or presence.

“Rolling tribes sense magic far more keenly than humans,” Tarte explains.

Their sensitivity, like a dog’s sense of smell compared to a human’s, lets them survive in beast-filled forests.
Many forest predators ambush, but Rolling tribes detect them first and strike preemptively.
Why didn’t my Loliokan teach me this? It’s way more useful than Koketris horseback archery.

“Not great for a knight, but perfect for a scout,” Sanders says.
“A racial trait? No amount of training lets humans match that,” another senior adds.
“He’s barely trained, so he’s only slightly sharper than humans,” Tarte says.
“That means room to grow with training,” Zoldietta says, eyeing me sharply.

Is she worried I’ll threaten her top rank?
No way—I’m a C-class dropout.
She should watch the second or third-ranked [Forbidden Book King].

“I’m curious about Aray’s spell. How does it leave such corpses? If it’s a secret, I won’t pry…” Mochika says.

Of course, she zeroes in on the worst topic.

“It was a fluke item. I don’t know the spell. The material couldn’t handle it, and the artifact broke,” I say.

Not a lie.
Post-battle, only the handle remained; the magic circle part shattered.
Artifacts are consumables, degrading with use until they break.
High-quality materials last longer, but this was first-year practice material.
Complex, powerful spells like [Tarte Drill] (my name) wear them out faster than [Air Burst].

“I see… I hoped to know the attribute at least,” Mochika says.

Attributes are which spirit a spell invokes.
Mochika’s shocked by my spell turning dogs into mangled corpses without projectiles, explosions, recoil, or collateral damage.
Unable to deduce it, she feels humiliated.
I feel bad.

As we chat, Sanders returns, and we disband.
The teachers will report the pack to the town guard and Duke Honmani, the academy’s head.
It sounds serious, but it’s standard to report student attacks.
Students are barred from leaving the academy or Mou Viviana’s north and west sides for now.

Holding Tarte’s hand, I stroll slowly back to Red Rose Dorm.
She’s not tired after her nap, and with time before sunset, I detour to Lake Viviana’s east side.
A park-like plaza along the shore offers a scenic view, with a beach for summer swimming, a boat dock, and a lookout tower.

Lake Viviana, V-shaped and over 20 kilometers per side (this world uses the metric system), has a peninsula where the Spirit Hall for Viviana stands, off-limits to most.
At the shore near the dock, we spot a white ship with a three-story mansion-like structure gliding across the lake.

“Look, the festival ship’s out today,” I say.

Used to ferry offerings or priests to the Spirit Hall during Viviana’s festival, it circles the lake a few times monthly to prevent damage.
Though it has a mast, it uses a magical propulsion system, not sails.
Lucky to see it, but Tarte, puffing her cheeks, seems miffed.

“Such a grand ship for Viviana? So cheeky,” she grumbles.

Jealous of Viviana, she’s complaining.
Maybe bringing her here was a mistake…

“I’ve got an idea. Bring out the toad,” Tarte says.

Wanting the toad meant for Sakurahime, I hand her one from the bag.
What’s she planning?

“Heh heh… With this toad, I’ll curse the lake so anyone drinking it smells sour like your mushroom pile from their armpits!”

Wait, a bio-curse-terror?
Tarte, grinning wickedly, touches the toad’s back, and a sinister magic circle flashes briefly.
She’s serious!

“Curse you, Viviana!”
“Stop!”

I snatch the toad from her just before she throws it into the lake.

“That curse would make our armpits sour too!”
“I made it so it won’t affect me or my servant,” Tarte says.
“Just us?”
“You’re not my servant, you’re my minion. I’m not cruel enough to make you feel guilty for being spared.”
“No curses!”

She’s hopeless, planning to stink up every girl’s armpits at the academy.
Is she that jealous of Viviana?

“Fine. Then you’ll deliver the curse to Viviana,” Tarte says, flashing an evil grin and raising her left hand’s middle finger.

Not a rude gesture—it’s the ring on her finger, proof of her mastership over our contract.
She plans to use our shared senses and control to make me throw the toad.
How can she call herself not cruel?

“You’re not human…”
“Obviously,” she retorts.

My body moves against my will.
I resist, but the contract—or Tarte’s power—is too strong.
My arm rears back to hurl the toad.
Someone, stop me—huh?

“Gyoeee!”

The toad’s gone from my hand.
A fumble during my wind-up?
Turning, I see it in the jaws of a pink, yellow-diamond-patterned, eight-legged lizard—Sakurahime, snatching her favorite prey.
Sorry, toad, but I’m saved…

“Throwing toads into the lake? What a waste,” Hernest says.
“Toads exist to be eaten by basilisks. Don’t waste food,” Mujihidane adds.

It’s Hernest—off on a date with his fiancée? Damn him!—and Mujihidane.
They came from the dock, where a returned two-person pedal swan boat is moored.
Enjoying a cozy boat ride, huh?
I’m jealous—I nearly ended up in a dog’s stomach!

“Your meddling got my toad eaten,” Tarte complains.
“Will Sakurahime be okay? No sour smells?” I ask.

Sakurahime licks my hand—not affection, but cleaning toad poison.
Once she stops, the poison’s gone.
What a handy basilisk, no wonder they’re popular.

“The magic circle dissolves with it, so no worries,” Tarte says, slumping.

Good—she needs constant watching.
Who knows what she’d do otherwise?

“Bringing a toddler here at this hour? Ready for jail?” Hernest says.
“Small as you are, Aray, you couldn’t resist that hobby…” Mujihidane adds, her gaze sharper than the dogs’.

What are they talking about?
Hernest’s exasperated look, Mujihidane’s killing intent—what did I do?

“Look around, it’s dusk,” Hernest says.

What’s that mean?
The sunset-tinted lake is lovely.
Plenty of people are here…
Wait…
No way…

I scan around, realizing—every single person here is part of a couple!
Men and women, paired up, some even kissing!

“Guh!”

The shock drops me to my knees.
All couples?
Where’d they come from?

“Dusk here is that kind of place. You finally brought your toddler…” Hernest trails off.

These people… there’s one toad left.

“Tarte, I was wrong. Sorry. Let’s curse this toad so couples drinking the lake water get itchy, smelly feet. I’ll sink it to the bottom myself.”
“Your dark, evil magic is leaking,” Tarte says.
“Stop fooling around, we’ll miss dinner,” Hernest says, snatching my last hope—the toad.

Damn it!

“It’s Sakurahime’s breakfast. Thanks,” Hernest says.
“Why not invite Aray tomorrow, Hern?” Mujihidane suggests.

Leaving the couple-filled lakeside, we head back to the dorm.
Mujihidane invites me to deliver magic potions to the Ronin Guild tomorrow with Kussera and possibly Dokurobaru.
My potions should be magically stable now, and I’m low on cash—perfect timing.

“My potions are ready too. I’ll go. Tarte, you in?”
“Of course. You’re too reckless to leave alone.”
“Reckless how?”

Says the toddler who tried to curse the lake.

“Fighting with that toy-like spell,” Tarte says.
“G-Got it…”
“What happened?” Hernest asks.

I tell them about the dog pack.
Mujihidane, a battle junkie, laments missing it.
Without [Tarte Drill], it’d have been bad.
I’m done with fights like that…

Back at the dorm, after dinner, I relax in my room, pristine thanks to Silhime—maid spirits are terrifying.
But last night’s issue, forgotten when Tarte cried herself to sleep, resurfaces.

The essential event between dinner and bed: the bath.