I Became a Murderer in the Academy.-Chapter 117

And then…

"…"

What else was there?

Be wary of kindness without a reason, be on guard against anything white.

And then…

"…"

I can’t remember.

I’m still haunted by Liana’s image.

The person who died, the one who I killed with my own hands—I may be reminiscing about them deep down.

"Haa."

I sighed, trying to shake off the heavy thoughts.

Then I spoke to the lingering image of Liana that wouldn’t disappear from my sight.

"You told me to be wary of anything white, didn’t you?"

I said, with my own stark white hair flowing down.

"Then why did you extend your hand to me?"

I questioned the illusion.

I asked the person who had extended their hand to something white, only to lose their life because of it.

"…" "…"

But there was no response.

The dead say nothing.

Once again today, I received no answer.

Iria looked at the tearful Saintess and asked,

“So, how much money do you have right now?”

“Well… I received some funds from the church, about thirty silver coins…”

"Hm."

Then she took all the money from Clana’s purse.

“It’s a bit short, but I’ll let it slide since it’s the first time. Next time, bring more.”

“Eek!”

From that moment on, Clana began learning that life was not as simple as she had imagined.

She also realized that the world outside the church was not as beautiful as she had thought.

And…

That she should be wary of anything white.

“Ah, it’s Iria! Everyone, run!”

In this world, people fled at the sight of Iria, as if it was common sense. It seemed that the silver-haired girl was the most feared figure at the academy.

Since that day, Iria’s bullying of Clana continued.

Usually, Iria would wait in front of the path Clana was walking on, seemingly waiting to take her money.

Today, as Clana was walking, Iria tripped her.

Inexperienced with such things, Clana tripped over Iria’s foot and fell spectacularly.

“Ahh!”

“Hm.”

“Ow… that hurts…”

“Where exactly are you looking while you walk? With so little caution, you won’t survive in this world.”

Clana looked up from where she lay sprawled on the ground.

Sure enough, there stood Iria, the one person she should avoid above all else.

Just seeing her face now filled Clana with fear. Rumors said that she was among the academy’s strongest in terms of combat power.

There was no way Clana could win against her. Even though she was blessed as a Saintess, Clana had no real combat experience.

And her repeated exposure to fear over time had conditioned her. Now, even hearing Iria’s voice made her tremble.

“Since you tripped over my leg, you should compensate me for the pain. How much money did you bring today?”

“Sixty silver coins…”

“Hand it all over.”

“Eek…”

Iria took Clana’s money, purse and all.

Clana was the cherished treasure of the Central Church, one of the Empire’s three great powers. Losing her purse a few times wouldn’t make her struggle financially.

One word to the head nun who looked after her, and she would receive all the support she needed.

But tears still filled her eyes.

The humiliation of having to hand over her money stung more than she’d expected.

“You brought quite a bit today.”

This marked a week of Iria’s harassment.

Attending the academy had been a dream when she was inside the church. Yet, her life here was vastly different from what she had imagined.

The most painful part of Iria’s harassment was her expression.

The cold, expressionless face and piercing eyes that seemed devoid of any emotion—it was terrifying. She looked more like a heartless doll than a human.

Scared, Clana teared up once again.

Iria watched her from beginning to end. Silence lingered between them.

"…" "Eek!"

Iria sighed softly, and Clana, clearly frightened, shrank back.

Then, Iria spoke.

“Why don’t you try resisting? Being someone’s target means they see you as weak. In this world, strength is everything. The strong always take, and the weak always lose.”

She spoke, shaking the purse in her hand.

To the flower raised in the greenhouse called the church, these words were entirely new.

To step out of the greenhouse and into a new world, she had to learn the common sense of her new environment.

Though Iria’s words were threatening and humiliating, they didn’t seem wrong. Clana had seen and heard things since she left the church.

The academy was a place of ruthless meritocracy, where those above looked down on those below.

It wasn’t the bright and hopeful place she’d once viewed from a distance. The academy was also a microcosm of society, a place where Iria’s “survival of the fittest” theory applied.

“Then… what should I have done?”

Clana asked, braving her fear.

She asked the villain who had tormented her for a week.

And Iria replied,

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“That’s for you to figure out. The world isn’t kind enough to teach every little thing to strangers.”

“Oh…”

“But if it were me, I’d have at least proven I wasn’t weak enough to have my purse taken.”

She continued, glancing aside.

Clana was born with the blessed talent of the church, with strength beyond what normal humans could dream of.

Though not on Iria or Ariel’s level, Clana was still among the top in the academy.

Whether she was aware of it or not, Iria, with her sharp eyes, could see it.

However, it was frustrating to see Clana not know how to wield that strength. Iria turned her head as if there was nothing more to see.

“How long do you plan to stay under someone else’s shadow?”

With those words, Iria left.

Of course, she didn’t return the purse.

"…"

Left alone, Clana thought.

She reflected on herself and tried to understand the meaning of Iria’s words.

Today, Clana’s thoughts ran deep.

By observing Clana over the past few days, Iria could recall the plot of the original story to some extent.

She understood why the current Clana was different from the one in the original story.

In the original, around the time before Serthia succumbed to illness, remnants of the Demon Lord’s army invaded the Empire.

The invasion turned into a major war, and many were killed or wounded.

In the story, Clana, knowing nothing, had to be sent to the front lines. Though she was a frightened student, she carried the heavy title of Saintess.

The flower that had only ever grown in a warm greenhouse was thrust into a blood-soaked battlefield. She saw humans torn apart by demons and witnessed brutal deaths with her own eyes.

It was too harsh an experience for the naïve and innocent Clana.

She faced the harsh reality and dark side of the world outside. She learned the hard way about a world she knew nothing of.

Perhaps even more harshly than Iria in the back alleys.

"…"

Clana’s innocence died there.

The once bright, curious gaze of her blue eyes lost its color.

The outside world wasn’t radiant.

It was murky.

Dark.

Red enough to make one frown, sickening, and brutal.

The broken figure that walked, having lost something, was Clana in the original story.

Even if she knew nothing, was her current state better?

‘Etiquette lessons are enough at the level of back alleys.’

She may have been naïve, but she wasn’t stupid.

She was simply inexperienced.

By tormenting her this much, perhaps she would realize that she needed to defend herself and think for herself.

However, Iria didn’t know.

“What… what are you looking at!”

"…?"

“I’m not giving the purse back! If you want it, you’ll have to defeat me!”

What her words and actions had caused in Clana.

From that moment, Clana’s personality began to change.