Meanwhile, after leaving his friends, Guy found himself in a position he’d gone his whole life without experiencing.
“…It’s so quiet when you’re alone. Though, I have got this curse kicking up a racket inside…”
He was muttering to himself on the way down the hall. It was the nature of curse energy to want to infect things—that could be strengthened or weakened, but it never went away. If the urge to do harm overwhelmed the wrangler’s capacity, measures would have to be taken; although at the moment, that risk was small. It felt like a low, animalistic growl inside him, but the fact that he could keep it at that level spoke to his exceptional talent.
“…This ain’t good. This is the price I pay for all that time spent looking after Katie? Can’t get my brain to budge one bit when it’s my own shit. And I ain’t exactly got anyone I can talk to…”
It wasn’t the curse that had him clutching his head. For better or worse, he went with his gut, preferring to throw himself into things, figure stuff out in conversation. Now he was forced into the exact opposite approach—no specific tasks to apply himself to, no one who could help him talk it out. He’d have to think, and that was not his strong suit.
As he racked his brain, he saw a familiar face coming his way. The moment their eyes met, he threw up a hand—without really thinking it through.
“Mm, yo, Mackley. Back up and running?”
“…”
She ignored this point-blank, sailing past. Guy turned around, calling after her.
“Hello? Can you hear me? Mackley?”
Still, she failed to respond. If anything, she sped up.
Guy put a hand to his chin, thinking.
“……Hey, Annie,” he tried.
The ground practically detonated beneath her feet. Her white wand came out as she lunged, poking it hard against his throat, her voice a low growl.
“Call me that again, and you die.”
“Gotcha. It was just a joke, so put the wand away. Before you catch this curse.”
He put both hands up, and Mackley took a step back, still fuming. She waffled a moment, then withdrew her wand, folding her arms.
“What do you want?” she asked, like she was suddenly obligated to engage. “I assume you’re not dumb enough to think we’re friends now. Just because we went through some shit…”
“Hell yeah! I know we’re friends. It’d be harder to act like strangers after all that. Or are you an old hand at those games?”
Before Mackley could retort, a new voice chimed in.
“Are we included in that?”
She and Guy both turned to find two others from their year—one male, one female.
Guy raised a hand, smiling. “What up, Barthés? Nice to see you both on your feet.”
“Thankfully, yes. You really pulled us out of the fire this time. Allow me to formally thank you, Greenwood. Mackley, that includes you.”
Lélia Barthé’s voice was warm, but this provoked a frown from Mackley.
“Don’t lump me in with his dumb ass. I didn’t lift a finger for you. Barely bothered letting you tag along in case I needed a decoy.”
“I think that moment came and went. Like the deer,” Gui muttered.
“Oh, you wanna throw down? ’Cause I’m ready!” Mackley yelled, hand on her wand again, brow twitching.
“Relax,” Lélia said, palms out. “Whatever your perception of it, we both feel like we owe you a lot. And failing to repay that debt will besmirch the name of our mistress, Lady Ursule. That much, I’m sure you understand. So if either of you are in trouble, just say the word. Lélia and Gui Barthé will do whatever is in our power to help.”
Guy grinned at the pair of twins, who were clearly in much higher spirits than at any point in their labyrinth adventure. Not a connection he’d expected to make, but hardly one to snub.
“Ha-ha, thanks. I’m in trouble all the time, so good to know,” he said.
He moved a hand as if to shake, realized he currently couldn’t do that, and yanked it back. That alone seemed to be all Gui needed.
“Seems like you’re in a bit of a pickle right now. Can’t get that curse out any time soon?” Gui asked.
“…Basically. Which means I’m waiting for Instructor Baldia to pop in. And they’re telling me if I’m up for being a wrangler, I shouldn’t give it back at all.”
“Ah, a curse instructor would say that.” Lélia nodded. “Even without much expertise, I could tell that you pulled off quite a feat. There’s any number of wranglers in our year, but safe to say you’re head and shoulders above them.”
At this point, more students passed by—and paused when they saw Guy.
“’Sup, Evil Tree?” said one.
“Congrats on surviving!” added another.
“…Uh?”
“How’s it feel being a sixth-year’s Final Visitor? Like turning over a new leaf?”
Guy just frowned, baffled by the mix of curiosity and respect—and worse, the name they’d called him.
“…Wait, I got lots of questions, but first—why’re you calling me that shit?”
“It’s your epithet.”
“It happens sometimes. You become someone’s Final Visitor, you inherent their name.”
“Especially if you’re studying the same field. Mr. Lombardi was all about curses transmitted through plants, and so are you. Why wouldn’t you be the second-generation Evil Tree?”
“That ain’t me at all! Who the hell started this?!”
“Who knows?”
“No clue, but it’s everywhere.”
Shrugging off his protests, the students moved on, leaving Guy sulking.
“…What a headache! Like they’re conspiring against me!”
“Don’t scowl. It sounds ominous, but it’s mostly complimentary.”
“Yeah. Even the older students respect you now. Don’t read too deep—just own it.”
The Barthés were putting a positive spin on it, which Guy wanted to protest, but practically speaking, he’d probably have to take their advice. He couldn’t exactly go around grabbing everyone by their lapels and demanding they call him something else.
That interruption had stalled their chat, so Mackley turned on her heel.
“…We’re done? Then I’m going,” she said.
“W-wait, Mackley!” Lélia cried, grabbing her collar with a smile. When Mackley made a strangled noise, Lélia leaned in, whispering in her ear. “You know Guy’s at his wit’s end, right?”
“…So what?”
“You need it spelled out? Okay, let’s try an analogy. You were about to get hit by a stampeding swordrhino. Someone jumped in front of you and got run over. They’re in critical condition, and you’re unharmed. What should you do?”
The sarcasm-laden metaphor made Mackley grind her teeth. She was big on not letting debts stand and couldn’t exactly brush this off.
“I ain’t injured, and I don’t need nursing,” Guy said with a laugh. “But this turn of events means I can’t be around my usual crowd, and on my own—I guess the wheels in my brain ain’t exactly spinning. I don’t handle quiet well.”
He felt he could turn to these three instead. Scratching his head, he laid out his predicament. They’d only just gotten to know one another, so the tenuous nature of their relationship was a comfort. Where the Sword Roses might easily catch the curse, this crowd was unlikely to.
Picking up on that, Gui nodded, smiling. “So you need someone to bounce ideas off? No problem at all.”
“Give it up, Mackley,” said Lélia. “I’ve been wanting to have a proper chat with you anyway.”
“Can’t say the same! Leave me out of this! You’re trying to weave a web around me till I can’t rid myself of you!”
“Ha-ha-ha! Not entirely wrong, but it’s more a hex than a web, really.”
Her prey snared, Lélia started dragging Mackley away. A torrent of foul language spewed from Mackley’s lips, but laughter drowned it out. As the volume rose, Guy thought, Yeah, that’s more like it. He and Gui followed the girls.