"Uh, excuse me..."
Sinclair appeared out of nowhere and addressed Vikir with an awkward respect.
When Vikir stared at her, wondering what was going on, Sinclair stammered.
"Um, Mr. Vikir, did you sign up for regular volunteer work here as well?"
"No."
"Uh-huh, then why are you here...?"
"I'm here for demerits."
"...ah."
At Vikir's short answer, Sinclair nodded.
"Well, I'm planning to do some regular community service, and even though I have to do it to earn merit points, I feel good and accomplished after helping someone less fortunate, so I'm doing it...."
"I see."
Vikir nodded once, not really interested in Sinclair's personal life, and turned to leave.
Sinclair, however, followed Vikir closely and kept talking.
"By the way, it's a coincidence that we're both volunteering at the same place."
"It is."
"Actually, I saw you signing up to volunteer last week, but I didn't realize we were going to the same place."
"I see."
"Vikir can be reached at..."
Sinclair giggles, not sure what's so funny, even as Vikir continues to give short answers.
Vikir interrupts Sinclair.
"Relax, you look about my age."
"...Ah, actually, I'm 17. I'm a year younger than Mr. Vikir."
"It doesn't matter."
Vikir nodded, and Sinclair's expression brightened even more.
"If that... be the case, I'll make it easy for you!"
"Okay. Let's make it easy next time."
Vikir thought he'd ended the conversation gently enough, and left the room.
To wash the mop.
Sinclair, however, followed him closely this time.
While Vikir went into the men's bathroom to wash the mop, Sinclair stood in the doorway of the men's bathroom and glared at him.
'Thank goodness she didn't follow me into the men's bathroom.'
Sinclair waited patiently in the doorway until Vikir was finished with the mop, then slipped in beside him.
"Look. I thought you were just trying to keep track of your service credits when you turned in that volunteer form on your day off."
"I was forced to submit it. I've accumulated too many demerits."
"Well, I see. I knew you were a good student, so I figured there was something to this."
Sinclair continued to stare at Vikir as he spoke.
With a light sigh, Vikir said.
"I'm in a hurry, so if you want to ask me something, do it quickly."
"Ugh! Can I?"
Sinclair asked excitedly, coming up beside Vikir.
She began to blurt out the questions she had been dying to ask.
"How do you study?"
"How many hours a day do you study?"
"How much time do you devote to practicing and reviewing?"
"Did you get the new Introduction to Magic genealogy that came out this time? Shall I show you?"
"What are you majoring in Cold Class?"
"Swordsmanship, ah, did the professor in charge of swordsmanship at the Cold Class teach you well?"
"You got all the questions right on the last Cold Class essay. I only got one question wrong. How did you solve it? It was beyond the level of an undergraduate student."
"Oh, by the way, did you see the 'Ethics in Dissection' section on the lecture notes for Animal Biology A? What do you think of the controversy over the solution?"
"Ummm, again... ah, I had a lot of questions, but I can't think of them when the time comes."
"Then how do you know everything so well? Did you get an early education?"
"You didn't? Wow- that's amazing, so where did you go to school before you joined the academy?"
"I don't know if I should ask you this, and you don't have to answer if it offends you. I heard that you're a commoner, but what region are you from?"
"Oh, but do you have bad eyes? Those glasses look really high. Oh, they're not as high as I thought, then why are you wearing glasses?"
"Is your hairstyle intentional? Oh, you just let it grow. Are you ever going to cut your bangs or slick them back? Oh, no?"
.
.
Most of the questions were about studying.
Vikir answered in a dry tone, but continued to do his chores like sweeping the hallways, doing laundry, and taking out the trash.
Sinclair followed closely behind him, eager to help out.
When the chores were done, Sinclair rummaged through the squadron on his back and held out a bottle of milk to Vikir.
"Here, drink this while you work!"
"...."
Vikir took the bottle and looked down at Sinclair for a moment.
"...?"
Sinclair looks back up at Vikir, still with the same blank expression.
Vikir realized that if he left her alone, she would follow him around all day and bother him, so he slipped away.
"I'll have a drink. Bye."
"Oh, where are you going? Let me help you!"
"To the bathroom."
Sinclair's face instantly turned bright red when she realized what Vikir had said.
"Uh, uh, that's a little hard to help with, so go ahead and go~"
Sinclair said, standing against the wall of the restroom hallway.
It looked like he was going to wait for Vikir to come out from doing his business(?).
* * *
Vikir finally succeeded in sending Sinclair elsewhere and being left alone with his barrage of questions.
" ...I see you're a very studious student."
Vikir emerged into a deserted hallway with a bucket and mop.
All of his fellow academy volunteers were either eating outside or having dessert with the children.
Vikir had planned to focus on the building's internal structure during mealtime, when everyone was most distracted.
Then.
"...!"
Vikir was walking down the hallway when he bumped into a kid.
"...."
Age to be in her early teens. Beautiful blonde hair. Fair skin. Slightly sunken eyes that looked somewhat sad.
Around her neck was an old, crude, gold-colored necklace.
The word 'Nymphet' could be seen written on the necklace.
Vikir waved the bottle of milk Sinclair had given to him earlier at the girl who was staring at him.
"Drink."
"...."
The girl glares at Vikir.
She snaps.
Vikir flicks his wrist once, and the milk spins in the bottle.
The girl gives him a quick glance, then turns and runs off down the hall.
Without a second thought, Vikir put the bottle back in his pocket.
Then.
"Her name is Nymphet."
A voice said from behind him.
Vikir turned to see Dolores standing there with a knitting basket and a bunch of dolls.
The academy's student council president, head of the newspaper department, and a saintess of Quovadis Family, she volunteers here every weekend.
Dolores narrowed her eyes at Vikir and asked.
"Are you doing your community service? You have to work hard to make up for your demerits."
"...I'm working hard."
"Good."
Dolores nodded once.
Then he looked at Vikir, his gaze still cold and stern.
"You'd better not do that kid any favors."
"...?"
Vikir shook his head, and Dolores continued.
"She was born here, and I've seen countless volunteers come to the orphanage over the past 13 years."
"...."
"At first, she was friendly with the students who volunteered, too, playing big sister and big brother."
"...."
"But the sisters and brothers I became so close with started to visit less and less as time went by. It's something that can't be helped. As they go up in grade, they have to study more, graduate, and get a job. It's the same for me right now."
"...."
"Out of every 100 volunteers in the first grade, maybe one will continue to volunteer in the third grade, and even then, they stop coming after they graduate or get a job, so it's hard for the kids at the orphanage to warm up to the volunteers. For the volunteers, the kids here are a part of so many lives, but for the kids here, their sisters and brothers are a big part of their lives."
She was right, for the most part. The students at the academy come to volunteer here to fulfill their community service requirements.
Dolores turned her gaze to the back of Nymphet's head as she walked away.
"She's tired of short-lived relationships, long-lived misses, and eternal separations, so she's made a promise to herself that she won't give any to outsiders."
"... Isn't that right?"
"Yes. But every time I see her, she becomes more guarded, and at some point, she doesn't talk to me at all. I feel like she's put all her expectations on other people, and it breaks my heart. I wish she wasn't so skeptical of the world."
Dolores lamented that she had been volunteering here for more than three years and Nymphet still didn't return her greetings.
Just then.
"...!"
Vikir's expression immediately changed as he listened to Dolores' words.
"I hope Nymphet can speak again soon. Aphasia is a disease that is caused by a broken heart, so it requires warm love and attention from people around it… … Whoop!?"
Dolores couldn't finish her sentence.
Vikir's hand flew out quickly and clamped over her mouth.
…Jaw!
Vikir clamped his hand over the saintess's mouth and shoved her into the recess between the walls.
It was a small recess, carved out by an architectural mistake, with cabinets jutting out on either side, and it was shaded, making it hard to see from the hallway.
"What?"
Dolores pushed her hand away from Vikir's breastbone and tried to remove the hand covering her mouth, but Vikir wouldn't allow it, instead pushing her even closer to the wall.
"Shhh."
Vikir's husky voice echoed in Dolores' ears.
Dolores felt her mind go blank.
'????'
This suddenly? No, no, no, what's going on here?
She hadn't been this close to a man since she was born, that's for sure.
As she braced herself for this sudden, rude, ... situation(?) she'd never been in before.
"...."
Vikir squinted, scanning the hallway.
The muscles in his face stiffened.
He could feel the stench of foul mucus digging through his nose getting closer and closer.
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
Footsteps pounding on the marble floor.
There was a man walking toward them from the far end of the hallway.
A gentleman in his fifties. A devout religious man. A successful businessman. A loving father.
A man who looks perfectly normal on the outside, but exudes an overwhelming odor from within.
This monster was Vikir's latest assassination target, Guilty.