My High School Nerd Rival - Chapter 70

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 70
Sitting in the same seat as the week before, everything felt as though it had returned to its proper place.
Resting her chin on her hand, she glanced sideways at Cyrus, who was reading something.
John Stuart Mill. On Liberty.
Good heavens, how impressive.
“I’ve been thinking about the assignment.”
As Ivy spoke, he slipped a finger between the pages and closed the book.
“You finished it?”
“Yeah, it was pretty rough.”
Apollo’s rudeness and the catastrophe created by Cupid’s arrow.
Shot by the Lead Arrow that made her fear love, Daphne had become the greatest victim of the entire story.
“Do you think anyone actually likes a story like this?”
“Well, it’s true that everyone ends up identifying with Daphne anyway.”
“Because she’s the victim, I suppose.”
“No, it’s more than that.”
He paused for a moment, then tapped the desk once or twice with his finger.
“Everyone carries Unforeseen Misfortune through their lives.”
Ivy’s eyes slowed their blink as she watched Cyrus.
He had just articulated precisely why she’d been angry at Daphne’s situation.
“So that Unforeseen Misfortune is the Lead Arrow?”
“The whole story. We can’t even tell whether Daphne didn’t want to love from the start, or if it’s a curse from the Lead Arrow. Daphne appears in the story, but her true self never properly emerges.”
“Hearing you say it, I think I understand. Maybe that’s why we identify with her so much—because the space where her ‘true self’ should be is empty.”
“Exactly. And that’s when this story becomes truly thought-provoking.”
Do I have an arrow too?
The question had suddenly turned inward.
If so, what did I look like before that arrow?
She recalled those days solving problems with someone on paper, a person whose name and face she didn’t know—and in those moments, nothing had frightened her.
Ivy pushed her glasses up.
“Yes, everyone has their own arrow, I suppose. Each in a different form and meaning.”
“And that’s why there’s room to like this story.”
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly—a rebuttal to what Ivy had said just moments before about disliking the tale.
“Ugh, I’ll grant there’s room for thought. But it’s too horrible. I absolutely can’t like it.”
Ivy turned fully to face Cyrus.
“To put it plainly, it’s a story of love pursuing someone for whom love is terror—relentlessly. Even as a tree, she couldn’t escape in the end!”
“Well…”
Cyrus leaned back against the chair.
“Apollo did wrong. That much is certain.”
Ivy nodded vigorously.
“I understand that he was powerless after being struck by the Golden Arrow. But there were other ways, weren’t there? He didn’t have to come directly. A letter, perhaps—”
“Daphne would only read it as a death sentence.”
“That may be, but what else is there?”
A line formed between her brows, then smoothed away.
Cyrus held his gaze on that fine line for a moment before answering quietly.
“He should wait.”
When Ivy said nothing, he added:
“Very quietly.”
That meant Apollo would have had to hide his feelings entirely.
The massive heart that, struck by the Golden Arrow, he would carry for the rest of his life.
“Being struck by the Golden Arrow and doing nothing—that means bearing the most, all of it alone.”
Never releasing the swelling emotion anywhere, simply holding it in silence.
“Even so, he should do it.”
Cyrus answered in a measured voice, then unfolded On Liberty again, his eyes returning to the page.
“…If Daphne dislikes it.”
The words he added softly almost seemed like a murmur to himself.
For some reason the words caught in her chest, though she couldn’t say why.
* * *
After Latin Classroom ended, she went looking for the teacher but couldn’t pin her down all day.
She needed to tell her that she’d be working with Cyrus.
Actually, Cyrus had wanted to tell her himself, but Ivy had stopped him.
She didn’t want it known that she’d almost done the assignment with Fabian.
Cyrus knew Ivy’s secret, and he seemed to care about it quite a bit.
(Fabian had been in Latin Classroom today too, but he seemed so far away that Cyrus didn’t appear to notice him.)
By the time she returned to the dormitory, the sun was beginning to set.
Ivy passed several students carrying laundry baskets as she climbed the stairs.
A special order had come down to each dormitory prefect.
‘The weather’s getting warm and too many students are going up to the Dormitory Rooftop. Put up new No Entry Signs.’
A No Entry Sign wouldn’t actually prevent entry, but Ivy had affixed the newly prepared No Entry Sign the school had provided to the entrance.
Then she went up to the rooftop. The door wasn’t locked.
If it were locked, students would just start climbing through windows more dangerously, so they’d left it open entirely.
The rooftop bore the marks of students’ traffic. Which meant trash scattered about.
Really outstanding moral character.
Ivy pulled a bag from her satchel, picked up the visible litter, and posted several personally prepared notices in conspicuous spots.
As the wind shifted, the smell of rusted railing drew near. She rested her back against it and closed her eyes for a moment.
One week since Fabian’s transfer. Nothing she’d anticipated had come to pass.
He hadn’t approached her first, he’d be partnering with Cyrus for the assignment, and the dormitory remained peaceful.
Perhaps he really just wanted to attend school.
“After Lights-Out Time, you mean quietly? Is that right?”
But a voice came from behind her. Shoes scraped against the floor, and she turned reflexively.
“Shouldn’t you tell them to go back to their rooms?”
A figure stepped forward with a gentle smile. It was Fabian.
“…Fabian.”
“You valued rules highly, didn’t you?”
Behind his words, she sensed the title he hadn’t spoken aloud.
Your Highness.
Right now he wasn’t speaking to ‘Ivy’ but to ‘Evelyn’.
“Do you think we’re people you can disregard?”
“…That’s not it.”
An answer barely emerged from her tight throat.
“I just learned that enforcing rules alone isn’t everything.”
“How remarkable.”
His gaze turned briefly in the direction the wind was blowing.
The color of the setting sun painted his face red.
“I’ll go.”
The concrete beneath her feet was releasing the warmth it had held all day. Ivy found no reason to linger here.
The boundary between them had already been crossed.
Ivy had left the most terrible wound in his life, and now Fabian was trying to inflict something similar upon hers.
Being near each other only meant spiraling further into ruin.
But after she’d gone only a few steps away, Ivy’s pace faltered.
Words that seemed impossible to hear came from behind her.
“…I’m sorry.”
An apology.
“Ivy.”
And even the ‘other’ name of Ivy’s that Fabian had so despised.
In the end, she had no choice but to face him again.
His features grew sharper in the reddening light.
“I thought you didn’t understand anything. Because the reason you turned away from me was ‘rules,’ and you…”
His words faltered there, and Ivy answered quietly.
“Because I valued rules above all else?”
“Yes.”
He wasn’t necessarily wrong.
Even as a girl, Ivy had grieved over that day while clinging to the excuse that it couldn’t be helped.
“I resented that day. Even while going to school in an Eastern land whose language I didn’t speak, I kept thinking about it—over and over.”
A land whose language she didn’t speak.
Ivy had only heard that Fabian went ‘abroad.’
Since she wasn’t ‘permitted’ to inquire further, she hadn’t known he’d gone somewhere distant enough that she wouldn’t understand the language.
She’d vaguely imagined it couldn’t be too far away.
“…Maybe I just wanted to think of you. It was so lonely there.”
His eyes searched her expression for a moment. Whether he was gauging her reaction or simply following habit, Ivy couldn’t say.
“You were the only person I could call a friend back then.”
Friend.
Ivy rolled the word gently across her tongue. There was a prick of thorns lingering, but it wasn’t a lie.
“I have a request, Ivy.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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