The Smiling Death

The night breeze was cool as Amon walked through the quiet hallway of the dormitory building. Most students were already resting, lights from their rooms dim or gone completely.

His footsteps echoed softly.

He stopped in front of a door with a silver nameplate. Arnold Bigod.

Amon smirked. 'Time to collect the payment.'

There was a little anger on his face.

He raised his hand and knocked.

Knock. Knock.

No answer.

"Oi, Arnold. Open the door. It's me."

There was a short pause before he heard movement inside, the sound of something being dragged, then footsteps.

Click,

The door opened slightly. Arnold stood there, wearing his casual black shirt and trousers, his blue eyes narrowing at Amon. His expression was tired but still held that same sharp arrogance.

"What do you want?" Arnold asked flatly.

Amon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"I swear if I had my hatchet right now, I would've thrown it at you right away," Amon sneered. His tone was sharp, even though there was a smile on his face.

"What do I want? Tch, don't play dumb. I'm here for the money we agreed on, remember?"

Arnold's eyes twitched. He exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple.

"You really came just for that? At this time? It's not like I had run away."

"Whatever. A deal's a deal." Amon's smile didn't fade.

"And do you even know what I have gone through? That mission nearly killed me, bastard." Amon continued to complain.

Arnold turned around without a word and walked back into his room. Amon followed, uninvited.

The dorm room was tidy, shelves full of books, a desk stacked with scrolls, and a sword leaning against the wall.

' The same boring perfectionist kind of man,' Amon thought.

Arnold took his pager that was kept on his desk and came back to Amon.

"Sorry for the trouble. You had to go through a hard time. I don't even know what happened there... but it must've been hard," Arnold said. His voice was calm. There was a hint of guilt in his tone.

"Yah... how about giving me some compensation? I might feel better." Amon's smirk widened.

Arnold didn't say anything and just nodded.

Amon took out his own pager from his storage ring. Arnold transferred one thousand and five hundred gold coins to him.

Amon's eyes sparkled. He chuckled delightedly. "Thanks, Arnold!"

"You should smile more, you know? You'll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that."

Arnold glared at him. "And you should stop being close to me. It's annoying."

Amon laughed, brushing off the insult like it was praise.

"You're too kind. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow, partner."

"Don't call me that." Arnold rubbed his temples in annoyance. He was really feeling bad for this guy... but not anymore.

Amon ignored him and walked out, closing the door behind him with a grin still plastered on his face.

'Easy money. Now… maybe some snacks before bed.'

He walked down the dim corridor, humming lightly as the sound of his footsteps echoed.

Meanwhile, inside the room.

Arnold sighed.

He jumped back on the bed and lay on his back.

His dark blue eyes stared at the ceiling.

"He really survived... I had not expected that. Though I feel better that he didn't die. But why ask me to send him there, in my stead? What truly happened in Mistvale?" Arnold muttered to himself.

He closed his eyes as he fell asleep.

---

It was another day.

As usual, Amon woke up early in the morning, got freshened up, and then went for running.

After that, he took a nice bath. Following that, he got ready for class.

Wearing the academy uniform, he checked his appearance.

"I look charming." With a smile, he left for class.

He took out his pager only to see an important notice sent to him.

It ordered him to come and meet the Headmistress during lunch break.

During the morning lectures, Amon found it hard to focus. His mind kept circling back to that message.

"Meet the Headmistress during lunch break."

He tapped his pen against the desk, eyes wandering toward the window where sunlight streamed through the glass.

What could Isabel Dawnheart possibly want with him? Did she want to ask about that incident?

The professor's voice droned on in the background about mana circulation, but Amon barely absorbed a word.

Even when the bell rang, he was the last to pack up his things.

As the clock neared noon, Amon took a deep breath and began walking toward the Headmistress's office, located on the top floor of the main tower.

The halls were quieter now, most students heading toward the cafeteria. His footsteps echoed softly against the marble floor.

When he finally reached the tall wooden doors of the office, he hesitated for a moment. The gold plaque on it gleamed:

"Headmistress Isabel Dawnheart"

Amon knocked twice and waited silently there.

"Enter," came the calm yet firm voice from within.

He pushed the door open. As he eneter the office, he oberved the familiar sight again.

The office was spacious, lined with bookshelves and filled with a faint scent of ink and roses.

Sunlight poured in through wide windows, casting a warm glow across the polished desk where the Headmistress sat, reading through several documents.

She looked up. Her long with hair tied in high bun. Wearing a black rimmed round glasses. Her silver eyes locking onto his.

"Ah, Amon Vale," she said with a small smile. "You came promptly. Good."

He bowed slightly. "You asked for me, Headmistress?"

"Have a seat, boy," she said softly.

"Thank you." Amon sat on the chair across Isabel's desk.

He was nervous despite his smiling face.

"Amon, though I really don't want to bother you... can you please tell me about what happened there from your point of view? I was busy, so I didn't get time to talk to you before," Isabel asked nicely.

'Guess it. Let's try to remember everything again,' Amon thought.

And then Amon started to talk.