CAR 3

He woke up in the dormitory of ‘Volè’. The students shared rooms in pairs as a rule, but the teachers had rooms to themselves. As the sweat cooled, he felt a sudden chill.

Dennis, having managed to sit up in the dark, tried to focus on the presence outside. Someone was pacing in front of his room.

Dennis, who had hastily thrown on the shirt he had carelessly tossed aside, pressed his ear to the door. It was early dawn. Dennis listened for the presence outside for a while, but the hallway beyond the door was silent, as if it had all been his own nervousness.

He let out a long sigh and took a step back from the door.

BANG!

No sooner had Dennis turned than someone kicked the door. They kicked it so hard that the latch rattled. Whoever was in the hallway had been watching for any sign of movement inside the room. Dennis twisted the doorknob in a single motion.

He threw the door open boldly, but the hallway in front of his room was empty.

[In memory of our promising and diligent Eric.]

Dennis, who hadn’t slept a wink from pacing by the door, stared blankly up at the bulletin board. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Even when he had less information about the ‘target’, Dennis had always finished the job cleanly, as was his nature.

Right now, he was feeling a greater sense of failure from having messed up the first step of the assignment than remorse for accidentally killing an innocent student.

Me, of all people, why…?

The students, who like Dennis were looking up at the bulletin board, were busy whispering amongst themselves, seemingly quite surprised by the appearance of an outsider. But when Dennis looked back at them, they naturally dispersed. Only Dennis remained there, frozen in place, seized by a deep regret.

A mix of frustration at having botched the job, self-loathing, and a bit of guilt and remorse.

Dennis, who had safely found his classroom, walked through the door as nonchalantly as possible. He took a quick scan of the large windows, the chalkboard, and the tiered classroom structure, then stood at the lectern.

Dennis coolly swept his gaze over the students. There seemed to be about fifty of them. He could feel that the already overly quiet classroom had become even more subdued with his arrival.

He reached for the lectern. Someone had placed a cream-colored envelope on it, as if to congratulate Dennis Kahler on his appointment. Dennis, leaving the classroom atmosphere to its own devices for a moment so the students could chatter freely while looking at the new young teacher, reflexively tore open the envelope.

And he froze completely.

Dennis, resealing the smooth-textured envelope, hid it inside his jacket. He couldn’t show any sign of hesitation. Dennis looked around at the students and opened his mouth.

“I am Dennis Kahler. Your lives themselves are literature, so what could I possibly teach you, but…”

Fifty or so students were watching him. Very intently, from the tips of his fingers to his tall frame. Nothing was stirring except for a single, faint ray of sunlight piercing through the classroom.

“At any rate, thank you for the passionate welcome.”

“…”

“The student who handed me ‘this’, I’d like you to stay for a moment after class.”

Dennis turned his back to them and picked up a textbook. As he recited lines of poetry in a plausible voice, he felt as if his brain was shriveling.

Inside the envelope were two photographs. One was a side profile of Dennis gripping Eric’s neck, and the other was a desolate frontal shot staring into the camera lens.

How much did the person who took the photos know? Dennis’s identity, Dennis’s motive, the person behind Dennis…

He was extremely curious as to why they had handed it to him instead of reporting it immediately. It was a very straightforward snare. If so, it might be the same person who had kicked his door in the early morning.

Dennis, who had barely finished his first class, deliberately tidied the lectern slowly. He intently studied the faces of the fifty or so students who were leaving the classroom all at once. But they didn’t seem to hold much of a profound interest in the new teacher. The tapping of Dennis’s fingers on the wooden lectern grew progressively faster, almost obsessively.

“Mr. Kahler.”

Dennis looked up with a pleased expression at the person in front of the lectern. Unfortunately, it was not a student. It was a fellow teacher with a pale impression, wearing thin-rimmed glasses. Taking a watch from his pocket to check the time, he advised Dennis in a perfunctory tone.

“I recommend ending your classes about five minutes early. The school is large, so it takes the students a long time to get around.”

“I’ll handle it myself. More importantly, who are you?”

As if intrigued by Dennis’s reply, the man adjusted his glasses. The other man, ruffling his neatly parted hair, gave a short nod of his head.

“My name is Yan Richter. I’m stationed in the infirmary.”

The infirmary. Dennis’s eyelids twitched as he registered the word. He had recalled the white bandage that had been wrapped around Eric’s ankle.

“You look pale…”

“It’s my first appointment, so I didn’t sleep well.”

“The headmaster told me that ‘Mr. Kahler already seems to be suffering from work-related anxiety,’ and I wondered what he meant… There’s no need to be so tense. They are lads who are not polite, but not disrespectful either.”

Yan Richter, shrugging, gestured with his chin toward the outside of the classroom. His dry, reddish-brown hair swayed lightly.

“Why don’t you stop by the infirmary for a moment? There are a few things I need to pass on to you.”

As he walked down the hallway alongside him, he was occasionally greeted by students. Students who were about to speak comfortably to Yan would notice Dennis’s presence beside him and awkwardly move away.

Yan Richter was a character who seemed somewhat lax and unguarded. He looked like a skilled teacher who commanded the trust and respect of the students. Even the sickly Dennis felt his shoulders relax a little in Yan’s presence.

After winding through the hallways for quite some time, the two men reached the infirmary and looked at each other for a moment.

“There’s a reason why the school is such a maze.”

“I’m very curious about the great reason that makes even the innocent teachers run in circles.”

“Outsiders try to infiltrate every quarter.”

Yan, replying indifferently, pushed open the iron door of the infirmary. The smell of old tea leaves and opium was overpowering. Yan, as if conscious of Dennis, left a window half-open and muttered, as if making an excuse.

“It’s for medical use, so please don’t misunderstand.”

“I haven’t said anything yet.”

“I’m prescribing it in small doses without abuse, so don’t look at me like I’m too much of a druggie.”

“Just bring me some tea.”

There were four iron beds in the infirmary. Each was draped with a long curtain. On the shelves were countless painkillers and bandages, familiar even to Dennis, stacked in layers. Yan, who had turned his back to make tea, asked Dennis casually. What did you do before this?

“It’s not something you could call a profession, but I was a boy of literature.”

“Your pronunciation during your reading was very smooth.”

“You eavesdropped on my class.”

Yan, shrugging playfully, picked up a cup. There was a crack in the teacup, but he didn’t seem to mind. Dennis, rather than drinking it rashly, focused more on the interior of the infirmary.

There were few medicines and the supplies were simple. It felt more like Yan’s personal office. In fact, this particular hallway was in a very inconvenient location for students to come and go during their daily routine.

Dennis looked at Yan once more. He didn’t seem to be a legally appointed teacher either. His heavy eyelids, which were open in a sleepy, languid way, seemed to be watching Dennis’s cup. Dennis pushed his cup toward Yan.

“I guess it’s not to your liking?”

“Tea made by a druggie just doesn’t whet my appetite.”

“You’re an interesting one.”

Yan took off his glasses and rubbed his eyelids. He had a generally relaxed impression, but he was a handsome man, as dashing as Dennis.

When his eyes met Dennis’s, Yan even gave a nonchalant smile. He bent his upper body forward as much as he could, rested his chin on his hands, and looked up at Dennis.

“I quit some time ago. The elders in my family disliked it so much.”

“I see.”

“I have seizures sometimes because of withdrawal symptoms, but… oops.”

Yan, checking the time, shot up from his seat. It was as if he had just remembered something urgent. Dennis, also intending to leave his personal space, was approaching the door.

The hallway outside the infirmary was noisy. It was also at that moment that Yan grabbed the nape of Dennis’s neck. Just as Dennis was about to protest vehemently, Yan whispered in a low, almost desperate voice.

“Actually, he’s due to stop by soon… I was enjoying our conversation so much that I forgot.”

“He?”

“He seems to be in a particularly bad mood lately, so let’s be the adults and get out of the way.”

Yan pulled Dennis behind one of the curtains. Yan, who had led him to the bed, brought an index finger to his lips. Dennis, without knowing why, ended up going along with it.

As soon as he sat on the bed, the infirmary door opened. Yan shook his head as if he was fed up.

“Ah, it hurts…”

“It hurts?”

“It hurts, it hurts… very much…”

A loud noise came from beyond the curtain. A student could be seen sprawled out below the curtain. The person who had lightly tossed him there was frantically rummaging through the infirmary desk. Soon, as if he had found what he was looking for, he turned around.

“N-No way…”

“Open your mouth.”

“I won’t, I won’t do it again. A bit more… I’ll do better, more sincerely. Okay?”

A long sigh was heard. The person who had rummaged through Yan’s desk sat astride the student crawling on the floor. A firm, large hand grabbed the other’s jaw.

“Aargh!”

What he shoved into the other’s mouth was a rusty pair of pliers. He pressed down on the jaw and cheek of the person lying on the floor and twisted his wrist. A series of hard-to-listen-to screams erupted.

Soon, a couple of healthy teeth rolled onto the floor. The crotch of the student whose teeth had been suddenly pulled was soon soaked.