OHNIR – Chapter 40
Chapter 40: Social Suicide
“Forget it, I’ll just wear a dress.”
Seeing that the System remained silent, Kelusta grew too impatient to wait any longer. She casually pulled out a high-collared, knee-length dress. It had a beige base, with sky-blue and brown patterns outlining the shoulders and cuffs, and a ring of star-like designs printed on the hem. The style looked quite serene and elegant.
This one was also a gift from Gloria… It was hard to imagine just how many new, in-season outfits the noble lady had stuffed into her wardrobe.
Muttering, “I wonder if this would look better with long socks,” Kelusta began to change her clothes and comb her hair. When she was finally ready, she smoothed down her skirt, confidently pushed open the door, and stepped outside—
Only to be so cold she nearly turned right around and dived back into her room.
“Goddess Clara above,” she said, on the verge of tears. The knife-like gusts of wind made her teeth chatter, and she hugged her arms, shivering. “This isn't wind blowing on me, it's the icy blades of the northern snow mountains… The snowy season hasn't even started, has it? What month is it, for it to be this cold already? What happened to the capital being like spring all year round? Was that just false advertising?”
“No, this is the effect of the divine power dissipating,” the System said. “The capital has always been where the most mages gather, and that, coupled with the continent's concentrated and enduring Holy Force, is why it has a comfortable climate year-round. But now, Nobili has very little residual divine power left to squander. If this continues, even the capital, perennially warm and located in the center of the continent, will soon be assimilated into a region like the northern lands or the Continent’s Edge—unsuitable for human habitation.”
“But, if that’s the case, even though Seaside Town has the Holy Force Source, it still gets cold enough to make you shiver your teeth out when a cold snap hits.” Kelusta rubbed her hands together vigorously, blew warm air into her palms, and spoke with a tremble as she headed downstairs.
“Seaside Town is located on the continent's western coast, directly in the path of cold currents. Even without the Holy Force Source, the ocean would freeze during a harsh winter as it's supposed to; it would never be colder than it would be with abundant divine power,” the System explained seriously, instantly projecting a translucent map of the Nobili continent before Kelusta's eyes. “Therefore, a coastal region's temperature is determined by its geography. The dissipation of Holy Force only causes climate abnormalities. The winter cold in Seaside Town is a normal phenomenon, completely unrelated to any protection from the Holy Force Source.”
The System paused, then stated matter-of-factly, without a hint of mockery, “Otherwise, a seaside town that normally freezes every snowy season suddenly enjoying spring-like weather for years… such a blatant climate anomaly would never escape the notice of the ducal families. In that case, I can reasonably deduce that the Goddess of Deceit would have found the Holy Force Source at least a few hundred years earlier.”
“…Alright, alright, stop analyzing, you great geographer.” Kelusta rolled her eyes, miserably pulled out a handkerchief to blow her nose, and lamented with a woeful expression, “The more you talk, the more irredeemably stupid I feel for asking such a basic question. It's bad enough that I'm freezing, but now my intelligence is being scorned, too. What heroine has it as bad as me!”
Although Kelusta had left her dormitory much earlier than the appointed time, the unbearable cold still made her quicken her pace. Shivering the entire way, she kept her head down and ran straight for the academic building.
The thinly dressed girl didn't lift her head until she was passing through the long corridor. She stole a glance upward and saw that due to the sudden drop in temperature, the wisteria flowers, so lush just a few days ago, had lost their color. The cold wind had impartially blown them into a wilted, drooping mess.
“Alas, the bone-chilling wind ravages me, leaving me cold to the core, weary in body and soul.” Feeling a sense of kinship with the flowers, Kelusta was suddenly struck by a dramatic impulse. She shamelessly put on a teary-eyed expression and lamented with a fake sob, “I am truly like a delicate flower.”
System: “…”
Has she really been frozen stupid?
Is my performance really that bad? What did I do to deserve the torment of such a host?
However, Kelusta couldn't hear the indignant protest in the System's mind. In fact, the otome game protagonist, suddenly indulging her willful, rebellious side, only grew more enthusiastic when it ignored her.
She stood under the corridor, affectionately extending a hand toward the pale purple flowers above. Gazing, mesmerized, at her own gracefully curved, half-bent fingertips, she perfectly mimicked the tone of a bard and recited with sorrowful emotion, “When no hearth warms me, I can only drink a mouthful of the winter night's wind, letting it seep mercilessly into my skin, into my very bones… This wind threatens me, ravages me, torments me, turning me into a withered wisteria. It leaves me weary and disheartened, forcing me to lower my head like a defeated quail—”
“…Such literary talent,” the System praised dryly. “Though it does sound a bit strange.”
Kelusta, however, seemed quite satisfied with this assessment. Suppressing the urge to shiver, she spun a few dreamy circles with great abandon in the middle of the corridor, as if dancing a waltz.
As her skirt fluttered, the patterns printed on it resembled a shower of falling stars, miraculously refracting a faint, silvery light.
After three and a half spins, Kelusta abruptly stopped. Swaying, slightly dizzy, she nearly tripped over her own feet and fell flat on her back.
But she was lucky and stubbornly managed to stay on her feet.
—The System let out a long sigh, filled to the brim with disappointment.
As if destined to torment its audience of one, Kelusta quickly composed herself. Mimicking the posture of a professional dancer, she lifted the hem of her skirt and took two gliding steps forward.
It wasn't until she was poised before a wisteria branch, as if she had finally built up enough emotion, that she suddenly began to speak with impassioned fervor, enunciating each word loudly, “But!—”
The System jumped, nearly activating its highest self-defense protocol and contacting headquarters to request an immediate extraction.
“But I will not be so easily defeated by the cold!” The brown-haired girl's eyes shimmered as if filled with water. She raised a hand to pinch a wisteria petal and sighed with a mix of passion and pity. “Though I am a delicate flower, I am also the chosen one who carries hope… My heart is the kindling, my blood the spark. As long as I live, my passion, my fighting spirit—will never be extinguished!”
“…I am the one chosen by this world, the most crucial, the most unique—Savior!”
After delivering this cringey yet passionate conclusion, Kelusta closed her eyes in rapture. Satisfied, she clasped her hands before her chest, palms together and fingers interlaced. She bowed her head slightly as if in prayer, finally bringing this impromptu performance—and the System's torment—to a close.
“I'm truly a poet held back by my studies,” she remarked to the System with genuine feeling. “Give me a harp, and I could move the entire world!”
System: “………………”
What a lunatic!
Kelusta, who had the heart of a poet but not the fate of one, had apparently perfectly interpreted the System's speechless state from its long silence. She lightly flicked her hair, said disdainfully, “You really have no taste,” and was about to turn and walk into the academic building like a normal person—
However, before she could move, someone standing behind her tapped her lightly on the shoulder, a hint of hesitation in the touch.
“…!”
Kelusta instantly realized what was happening.
Her face, already pale from the cold, was now practically green.
The disdainful look she'd given the System instantly froze. As if she'd been forced to drink a petrification potion, she turned her head with jerky, creaking movements, filled with utter despair.
The next moment, just as she'd feared, her eyes met the handsome face of the silver-haired boy, who wore an expression of someone wanting to speak but holding back.
…Damn it!
What a textbook example of social suicide!
For the first time, the vibrant light in the brown-haired girl's golden eyes was completely extinguished. Facing Wend's strange and bizarre gaze, she tremblingly parted her lips, attempting to salvage the situation, but was too embarrassed to form a complete sentence.
“That… just now… I—”
“…”
Wend pressed his lips together, looking as if he'd been racking his brain for the right words. Finally, he offered a dry, unconvincing compliment, “That poem just now… was very well-composed. Yes, quite good.”
Kelusta: “…”
No, I don't want you to praise me, and I'm not crazy, just let me explain!
In the vast, empty potions classroom stood two unlucky souls, each startled in their own way.
The silver-haired boy, silent and still shaken, washed the tools they would soon be using. Meanwhile, Kelusta, standing a great distance away, was muttering nonstop to the System to vent her utter mortification.
“I'm so stupid, really,” the brown-haired girl said, reflecting with deep remorse as she miserably squeezed juice from Milkweed flowers. “I just knew there wouldn't be anyone in front of the academic building on a weekend… but I never expected Wend to arrive so early and happen to see me acting like a complete lunatic!”
Seeing how truly mortified she was, the System didn't have the heart to rub salt in the wound with a taunt like, “So you do realize you were acting crazy.” It could only say vaguely, “Well… a proper gentleman doesn't like to keep a lady waiting.”
“It's because he's such a gentleman that I feel even more embarrassed!” Kelusta cried, on the verge of tears. “What do I do, Old Sy? Do you have any memory-wiping items? If he tells Gloria about this, my lifelong reputation… will be completely ruined!”
Although the System had no idea what kind of “reputation” she had with Gloria, seeing its usually shameless temporary host looking so distraught made it feel a pang of pity. It racked its brain to comfort her, “Don't worry, temporary host… Given Wend's personality, he isn't the type to gossip about other people's embarrassing moments.”
Unexpectedly, however, this sincere and kind answer failed to satisfy the Cringe Queen.
Kelusta pouted and said, quite displeased, “I'm not just 'other people.' I'm Gloria's—uh, well… at the very least, I count as her best friend, okay!”
You're pretty self-aware, the System thought. Why not just call Starangui her best friend, then?
“Alright, let's say you're best friends.” Grumbling internally was one thing, but it had to maintain appearances. The System skillfully let its temporary host's complaints go in one ear and out the other, placating her with professional perfunctoriness. “Wend is a noble who has undergone strict etiquette training. Therefore, no matter how ridiculous you looked reciting that poem, he wouldn't laugh. And no matter how much he might want to share it with Gloria, he wouldn't do so—uh, unless he couldn't help himself.”
Noticing Kelusta's glare growing increasingly ferocious, the System immediately stopped its analysis and added guiltily, “Even if he wanted to describe it, he wouldn't be able to recite your poem from memory, would he?”
“I'm already this miserable, and you're still taking jabs at me!” Kelusta's expression turned savage for a moment. She slammed the pestle down onto the Milkweed flowers in the mortar with a thump, thump and said resentfully.
“I was complimenting you, esteemed temporary host,” the System corrected calmly.
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