Chapter 28: Late Night Story Session (2)

At Cantoria Academy, there were indeed many students like Vivian — hybrids of various races.

Some were human–serpent hybrids.

Some were human–griffon hybrids.

And there were even some who were part human, part spider.

In short, hybrid students came in all forms, but they shared one thing in common.

Almost none of them were admitted purely through their own merit.

They either paid their way in, or had powerful connections.

Because even though hybrid species often carried bloodlines similar to humans, and lived within the same society, their status was not equal to humans.

To put it simply, there was one sentence that explained it all.

“Those not of my kind must have a different heart.”

This mindset was particularly evident in the Academy’s admissions process.

Given the same level of magical talent, hybrids were far more likely to be rejected than pure-blooded humans.

Even if they met the exam requirements, that didn’t necessarily mean they would be accepted.

And the higher the prestige of the academy, the worse this discrimination became.

So at Cantoria Academy, any hybrid who managed to attend must have either powerful backing or exceptional talent and exam results.

And guess what?

Vivian actually hadn’t used money or connections to get in.

She’d squeezed her way into Cantoria purely on the strength of her natural talent and outstanding exam performance.

During their year’s entrance exams, Natiavida had ranked second, while Vivian was first.

That’s when the human and the half-elf first became close friends.

However, Vivian didn’t like talking about that time much.

Because back then, she had faced the same problem Sal once did — she couldn’t afford the dorm fees.

If it hadn’t been for Natiavida, a well-off noble girl, inviting her to share a dorm (though “share” was generous, since Natiavida paid nearly all the rent), Vivian might’ve ended up as one of the victims of the student loan programs on campus.

Rumor had it that some seniors from previous years had borrowed money from those predatory campus lenders, failed to repay it, and even after ten years were still working as assistants under the professors — brewing potions, selling alchemy goods, all to pay off their debts.

So when faced with Sal’s question, Vivian froze.

She didn’t answer for a long time.

It was Natiavida, unable to watch her struggle any longer, who stepped in.

“When your sister Vivian here entered the academy, she did so with the highest score in the Magic Department’s comprehensive exam.”

“And even now, she’s still the top student in our entire magic division — both in magical control and in combat performance.”

Hearing that, Sal couldn’t help but glance again at the silver-haired half-elf girl.

She honestly hadn’t expected the talkative, teasing Vivian to have outperformed someone as disciplined-looking as Natiavida.

(So that’s the power of elven blood?)

Sal had thought her earlier question would expose Vivian’s background.

But it turned out her so-called “fatal strike” had completely missed.

(Then why did you hesitate so long to answer, huh? Was that part of your act, oh brilliant half-elf scholar?)

Now Sal just felt like a clown.

Vivian, on the other hand, quickly recovered her composure — thanks to Natiavida’s timely assist — and continued telling the rest of the eerie story.

This time, without Sal interrupting, the story flowed much more smoothly.

“The half-dragon girl always sat in the last corner seat of Class Three.

She never spoke to anyone in the class — a complete loner.”

Sal listened to the familiar opening of a classic ghost story, starting to find it a little entertaining.

“Because of her reclusive nature and her mixed dragon blood, the other students in Class Two pretended she didn’t exist.

Even when they saw her in the hallway, they’d deliberately take a different route.”

Sal thought she could faintly hear the sound of a girl crying in the distance — soft, fading in and out.

She couldn’t tell if she was imagining it.

“But… if that were all, the story wouldn’t be one of the three major eerie legends of Cantoria.”

“What made this half-dragon girl, Lucia, such a terrifying figure in the Academy’s magic division… began with a single accident—”

Sal’s skin broke out in goosebumps, and she let out a shaky laugh that sounded half like a sob.

But it wasn’t the story that scared her.

It was…

“Hey, Natiavida, we don’t have any personal grudges between us, right?”

“No, why?”

Natiavida’s answer came instantly from the other bed.

“If that’s the case, then why are you floating this thing around me in circles with magic?”

Sal pointed helplessly at the glowing sound crystal hovering in midair, emitting a loop of eerie background noises.

“Just adding to the atmosphere.”

Realizing she’d been caught, Natiavida waved her hand, and the sound device shut off and floated back to her palm.

“Even if you’re adding atmosphere, you can’t just—”

(Can’t just treat me like I’m in a Japanese horror movie, damn it!)

The story itself wasn’t frightening — what was frightening was Natiavida’s dramatic flair.

Sal honestly couldn’t understand her.

If that little trick had been pulled on a normal girl, she probably would’ve been screaming in tears by now.

But unknown to Sal, Natiavida’s action had been deliberate — a test.

And after this “experiment,” she was even more convinced that Sal was not as innocent as she appeared.

At the very least, her mental fortitude was remarkable.

Since her goal was achieved, Natiavida apologized lightly and dropped the matter, motioning for Vivian to continue.

“All right, let’s move on.”

“After that, a boy from Class Two lost a bet with his friends.

As punishment, he had to go talk to Lucia.”

“At first, everything seemed normal.

The mixed-blood girl named Lucia wasn’t as cold or terrifying as everyone had imagined.”

“The boy who talked to her didn’t experience any of the rumored deaths — no heart failure, no sudden collapse, no bleeding from the eyes or ears.”

“At that point, everyone began to think the rumors were fake — that she was just a shy, quiet girl misunderstood by others.”

“She even smiled gently at the boy.”

‘Maybe she really is just an ordinary person, just slandered by gossip,’ everyone thought.

“Until that night.

The boy’s roommate noticed he hadn’t returned to the dorm, but assumed he was with his girlfriend again and didn’t think much of it.”

“The next morning, the first student to enter the classroom found the boy — hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room, dead in a horribly gruesome state.”

“When Lucia was later questioned by the faculty, she firmly claimed she had never met the boy.”

“The terrifying part was that the investigation turned up nothing — no clues to suggest it wasn’t suicide, even though everyone could see from the body’s condition that he had died struggling.”

“Even when the Empire sent its top investigators to interrogate Lucia — monitoring every move, every breath — there was no progress at all.”

“They had the most skilled psychologists study her behavior, and yet the final report contained only a few short words.”

‘No lies detected. Unrelated to the case.’