The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character

By the time I left the training hall, the sky had already begun to dim, painted in soft streaks of peach and purple.

The walk back to the dorms was quiet—cadets were still out, some running drills, some hanging out under the central tree plaza.

I wasn't in the mood to talk.

Didn't feel like being around anyone, either.

So instead of heading to the dorms, I took a turn. Past the library. Past the west hall. And out toward the old tower—the one no one really used anymore except to sneak a nap or escape from the world for a bit.

I climbed the narrow staircase, boots hitting the stone with soft, deliberate steps. My legs ached faintly from training, but it felt good. Like I was still here, still grounded. Still Rin Evans, no matter what was coming.

The top of the tower was quiet. The view stretched out over the forest and academy grounds. The wind was cooler here, brushing my sweat-dampened collar as I leaned against the railing.

I pulled the candy from my pocket.

Unwrapped it slowly.

It was cherry-flavored, probably. Alice favorite. She handed them out like they were some kind of emotional Band-Aid. But it worked.

I popped it in my mouth and let the silence settle.

Maybe I had made a choice.

Maybe I was just trying to brace myself for what came next—whatever next meant.

But right now… I just wanted this moment to last a little longer.

No questions. No promises.

Just the wind. The fading sun.

And the taste of cherry on my tongue.

"Well, it's time to take out the trash."

Mumbling under my breath, I started to head towards empty classroom.

After all, I'll be taking out trash of the academy there.

----

Right now, I was in one of the old, empty classrooms tucked in the east wing—long abandoned, forgotten by most cadets and probably even the faculty.

Dust covered the window ledges. The desks were uneven and scarred with years of bored scribbles. There was no light except for the fading sun bleeding in through the glass, casting shadows that stretched long and thin across the floor.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

But that made it the perfect place for what I had to do.

A perfect place for taking out trash.

I leaned back against a desk, arms crossed, listening to the faint creaks of the old building settling around me. While I waited for the so-called "trash" to arrive, my mind wandered—restless and loud in the silence.

How do they know so much?

That thought kept circling in my head.

They acted so clueless most of the time—tripping over their own feet, smiling like the world wasn't burning behind them. But then, out of nowhere, they'd say something sharp. Something right.

It got under my skin.

"Really… they're usually so oblivious and act like suckers, but how do they know this kind of stuff so well?"

Was it just intuition? Dumb luck?

Or…

Was it because they were characters from a novel?

A novel made by my friend.

I shook my head, jaw tightening. Either I was slipping, or my poker face wasn't as good as I thought. I always thought I'd been doing a decent job—laughing when I should, keeping things vague, not letting anything slip.

But maybe… maybe that wasn't enough anymore.

The memories hit me then. Their deaths.

The ones I'd read in black and white like they were nothing more than words on a page.

Back then, it hadn't hit me—not really. Characters die in stories. That's just how it goes.

But now?

Now I'd eaten with them. Trained with them. Fought beside them. Watched them laugh, get frustrated, cry. The warmth I'd built up with them over time twisted suddenly into something colder. Heavier.

I didn't want to see them die.

Not like that. Not again.

I glanced out the window. It was already getting dark.

That strange in-between hour had settled in—the kind of moment where the moon starts to show, faint and pale, even though the sun hasn't quite let go yet.

There was something poetic about it. That quiet tug-of-war between light and dark. Between what was and what's about to be.

And maybe that's where I was too.

Caught in between.

Between who I used to be… and what I was about to do.

TAP—!, TAP—!, TAP—!

Footsteps echoed faintly down the hallway.

Showtime.

Click—!

The classroom door creaked open, and tonight's guest finally stepped in.

"Ah, sorry. Am I late?" he asked, a casual smile on his face as he scanned the dimly lit room.

"No, senior. You're right on time. I'm the one who asked you here, after all—thanks for coming."

He chuckled, strolling in with that same easygoing confidence I remembered from the halls.

"Haha. You worded that letter in a way that made it hard to say no. For a second, I thought maybe some cute junior had a thing for me. But alas, I was wrong."

I offered a polite smile. "Yeah, I get it. A mysterious note like that does kind of sound like a secret admirer thing, doesn't it?"

"Exactly. But then I read it again—'I know your secret. Come alone to the academy training grounds after school, 7:30 p.m., or I'll reveal everything.'" He shook his head, still smiling. "Not exactly love letter material."

I tilted my head, letting my tone go just a touch playful. "Not a confession, sure… but maybe not not one either, depending on how you look at it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? That so?"

I stepped forward, slowly, letting my voice drop just slightly—still casual, but no longer joking.

"Think about it. What's a confession, really? Putting your heart out there? Telling someone what you've been keeping to yourself?" I met his eyes. "I'm doing that now, aren't I?"

Something flickered in his expression. Just for a second. A brief pause, like he wasn't sure where this was going.

"But let's not play games, senior. You already know this isn't about romance."

His smile faltered—only slightly—but it was enough.

"...So, what is this about then?" he asked, voice a bit quieter now.

I reached into my pocket, fingers brushing against the still-wrapped candy Professor Draken had given me earlier. It grounded me for a moment.

Then I looked up.

"You know what it's about. I'm just here to take out the trash that is piling up for long time and I think it's about time put that trash into dustbin."

"I see."

Then his expression changed for worse as he stairs at me.