After the bully finally disappeared from his sight, Baston did not immediately relax.
Only when the noisy footsteps disappeared into the distance, he turned around and headed toward the dormitory. His shoulders were slumping as if all strength had been drained from him. It seemed even running fast was exhausting for this body.
Looking at the building, the academy's dormitory was a single structure but it was divided cleanly into three invisible classes.
The upper floors belonged to merchants where the sunlight shone freely through wide windows.
As for the floor below, it was for the commoners. The room was simple and cramped, but at least, they received fresh air and warmth.
And for the poor, their rooms were underground.
Baston descended the narrow stone staircase. The air grew colder and heavier.
When he reached his room and pushed the door open, a faint smell of damp greeted him.
The walls were bare stone and it was darkened by the moisture. A single magic lamp hung from the ceiling with its weak glow.
This atmosphere reminded him of something. It was just like a grave and it was eerie.
For a brief moment, he felt his chest tightened.
Waking up in this world had felt like a miracle but standing here in such damp and forgotten place, he wondered if he would end in this room forever. While there was so much in his head, he exhaled slowly.
At least, he was alive and that was already good.
In this room, although the condition was miserable, the place belonged to him alone. There was no snoring roommate and no one who reminded him constantly of his poverty.
For someone with nothing, that was already a luxury.
He placed his bag beside the narrow bed and lowered himself onto the mattress. It protested immediately under his weight.
From the bag, he carefully took out his old book.
At a glance, it looked no different from the others. The book itself was thick and its surface was etched with faint patterns that he never recognized.
Unlike others, the book seemed older and it almost gave the ancient vibe.
The cover was colder yet it slowly warmed beneath his palm as if it was reacting to his presence. The engraved patterns were shallow and uneven with many scratches.
It was almost as if many people had used it obsessively before him. Perhaps, it was indeed like that since there was no way he could secure a fresh new book.
He opened the old book and the pages shifted smoothly, rearranging themselves with a little sound. It consisted of schedules, notes, and academy regulations. Each of them was quite familiar, identical to what every other student possessed.
However, he noticed things that others didn't have.
The last page was entirely different.
The parchment beneath his fingers felt warmer, smoother, and almost soft nothing like paper. The faint glow on its surface pulsed slowly. It had been like this from the first but the reaction was becoming stronger at the moment.
"This isn't normal… What is happening…?" he thought.
A quiet unease crept into his chest.
He wanted to lift his fingers. He wanted to remove his hands from the book. Still, he kept holding it tightly as he was waiting for the miracle.
If something bad happened, then so be it. But what if something good finally fell onto him.
Somehow, deep inside his heart, he wanted a miracle that could change his fate.
"What if…" he muttered before he stopped himself.
The thought went unfinished.
He had already died once and whatever waited on this page couldn't possibly be worse than being crushed again. Rather than waiting, he might try to grab such fleeting opportunity.
He pressed his finger down. The page warmed instantly as it was acknowledging him. Slowly, the letters surfaced, forming clean and emotionless lines.
"Change the perception of one student…"
Baston stared, "What is this?"
There was no explanation followed. It was just an order given to him by something mysterious.
Such words, the academy surely wouldn't give ambiguous command. He doubted it came from them anyway.
He was waiting for a while yet there was still no further indication. The order was there and it was up to him how he treated such bizarre moment.
This was just like a temptation. The old book seemingly seduced him to abide by its words.
Changing perception could mean many things.
Making someone to fear him, respect him, hate him, or trust him. Any of those could count, but in the end, he still had a question inside his heart.
The question he wanted to ask but quite afraid to hear its answer.
"What happens if I fail…?"
The old book remained silent and the glow dimmed slightly as if the book itself had closed its eyes. A faint chill ran down his spine.
His instinct told him that it wasn't a blessing. It might be a test from something mysterious. It could be also worse if it was an invitation to step onto a path that didn't allow him to retreat.
The choice was on him. He was the only participant here and all he needed to do was to finish what the old book had asked him.
It didn't matter whether he succeeded or not. He wanted to see if his action could give any immediate result. For now, he only needed to focus on the perception.
If perception could be changed, then it could be manipulated. If it could be manipulated, then everyone could be the perpetrator or the victim.
This path belonged to those who understood the people. Almost without thinking, Panto surfaced in his mind.
The boy who hid behind money and lackeys. The one who mocked him openly while he was confident that nothing would ever come back to him.
Despite looking arrogant, his timidity couldn't be hidden. It always displayed openly as his greatest weakness.
If he needed to change someone's perception, then Panto was the safest choice. His timidity was an opening that he could manipulate.
Slowly, he closed the book. The glow vanished instantly, leaving the page blank as if nothing had ever been written there.
He slid it back into his bag and his heart was still beating faster.
"Let's make a little drama…"
For the first time since arriving in this world, he grinned because of an opportunity suddenly opened before him.
He wanted to know what kind of change in his life if he worked as the old book ordered him to.
*****
In the meantime, Panto took a walk near the academy perimeter.
He told himself it was just a harmless action. He wasn't trespassing and following anyone. After all, he was just looking around, especially toward beautiful noble girls.
The noble students here acted differently. They spoke with confidence and walked without hesitation. Even their laughter sounded refined.
Especially the girls, their faces and voices could make him being grateful to be able to attend this academy.
Panto stayed far enough to avoid the attention.
He had no desire to embarrass himself since being called a creep by them would be a humiliation worse than death. Lost in his thoughts, he turned in a quiet corner.
Suddenly, something slammed into him.
Before he could shout, two arms wrapped around his shoulders and yanked him sideways. The world spun violently, making the ground scratched his face.
By then, he was shoved into a thick cluster of bushes.
"What the…" Panto froze, "Who is it?"
Baston was on top of him, gripping his collar with surprising strength. His eyes were sharp and nothing like the frightened one that he knew.
"Panto…" Baston said quietly, "What have you done? Why they are chasing you?"
"What?"
"I asked you something. What have you done before that make them chasing you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about! Get off from me!"
"You're doomed… You're going to die horribly…"
The words sent a chill straight through his spine.
If this were a noble or a teacher, he would have believed it. If it were one of his lackeys, he would have struck back.
However, the one who was in front of him was Baston. The fat boy who always ran and the one who often begged for mercy.
The sudden change terrified him, clouding his judgment whether to believe his words or not.
"The cult already knows you," Baston continued, "Your name is on their list. From now on, don't wander outside. The academy is the only safest place for your life."
"What cult? What list? You're insane!"
"Don't try asking for more explanation. Understanding the cult won't save you. It will just haunt you and you will never sleep peacefully forever."
Baston stood and turned away, leaving behind the dumbfounded him on the way. The merchant was struck silly, puzzled toward what had happened before he came back into his sense.
"Wait!" he shouted with his panic that was breaking through his voice, "At least, tell me who's after me!"
Baston halted his steps. He slowly looked at Panto with his deadly serious eyes.
"I can't tell you much… I can only tell that I'm pretending to be weak after all this time just to keep up with them. Unknowingly, they came after you."
After that, Baston left. There was no explanation and the fat boy only left such question and hesitation inside his heart.
*****
Panto remained frozen long after Baston disappeared.
None of his words made sense, and yet, Baston had reminded him against the cult.
The boy hadn't demanded money and hadn't mentioned revenge. He only looked afraid eventually.
He replayed every word from him. The way Baston's hands shook him greatly and the way his eyes that never wavered. He was indeed looked serious.
"What if…"
A cold thought crept into his head. His mind started playing rough with him.
By the time the class resumed, his palms were damp with sweat. Every glance from a teacher felt suspicious and every whispered conversation sounded like a hidden threat.
He glanced down at Baston. The fat boy was back to normal with hunched shoulders and trembling hands. When the teacher called him forward, he stammered and blushed while earning laughter from the classroom.
He didn't laugh since the contrast was too different that he was unable to believe what had happened before. When the class ended, he rushed out. He didn't notice Baston step into his path before it was too late.
Both of them collided and fell to the floor at the same time.
Suddenly, several people noticed what had happened. Their sights soon turned into their direction.
"I… I'm sorry!" Baston cried, bowing repeatedly, "Please forgive me!"
Several snickers erupted around them. Panto's lackeys approached eagerly, thinking they could bully this fat boy once again.
After all, he dared to embarrass their boss. They might be afraid of the nobles but toward such poor boy, they would bravely confront him.
"Boss, do you want us to teach him a lesson?"
Panto's heart pounded because he still couldn't forget what Baston had told him.
His life was in danger and his lackeys couldn't possibly save him. Somehow, only the fat boy in front of him could.
"Let him go… I'm in a good mood anyway..."
As he turned away, Baston leaned close and whispered. His voice was barely louder yet the words struck like a blade.
"Go back… Someone's watching you…"
His body reacted before his mind could. His heart lurched violently and the air seemed to vanish from his lungs.
He didn't dare to turn his head and he didn't dare to look around. He only dared to run.
At first, he told himself he was overreacting. Baston was just a fat poor student. He might be lying to him under his laughing.
However, the echo of those words before clung to his heart, sinking deeper with every step he took.
"Someone's watching you…"
His pace quickened. The stone path blurred beneath his feet and he became acutely aware of every sound.
Although the academy looked safe, his mind had fooled him. The fear already took everything. It made him staying vigilantly toward everything.
"Don't look back…"
The sweat soaked through his collar, trickling down his spine despite the cool air. His breathing grew short and shallow. He forced himself to slow it down, afraid that the panic would make him stand out.
He didn't want to die. He wanted to live.
The thought surfaced again and again, pushing him into desperation. He still had many plans for the future.
A family business was waiting for him beyond the academy walls. This couldn't be how he ended, cut down by something that he didn't even understand.
By the time he reached the dormitory, his legs were trembling.
He tried his best to stop panicking but it was futile. His mind had already imagined something worse. It felt someone was holding knife and was always ready to stab him.
He slipped inside, climbing the stairs in a rush, and slamming the door shut behind him. The lock clicked into place before he could breathe normally.
Slowly, the relief came back into him. The longer he stayed inside, the better he could calm down. It was the best to forget everything.
Unfortunately, his fear already conquered his mind and body completely.
That night, he pushed a chair beneath the doorknob.
He shut the curtains tight, leaving not even a crack for the moonlight. The dinner was delivered and eaten cold while his eyes were never leaving the door.
His sleep came in shortly, broken by imagined footsteps and half-formed dreams of several eyes that were watching from the dark.
In the meantime, Baston slept soundly in another room. His breathing was slow and even. While he was getting his rest, the last page of the book glowed faintly.
It was steady and silent as it was calmly recording the outcome of his little drama.