High School of Demon Hunting

[ps, regarding recent updates, explanations are provided in the related section of the work, please move there.]

[ps, this side story takes place in the spring after the winter vacation, before Zheng Qing and Elena’s cold war. The young scholarship recipient, dazed, wrote a witch a letter of dissociation... This Chapter pairs well with the extra story at the end of Volume 6 for better effect.]

”...

I must admit, my feelings for you began with curiosity.

For someone like me, who has always been well-behaved, doing something beyond my imagination (like having a romantic relationship with an exotic Gypsy witch), is very tempting.

I was lucky to have met you.

Unfortunately, you met me.

You match all the surprises I hoped for: you are unexpectedly beautiful, passionate, and charming. You unexpectedly accepted my brash invitation. You are such an unexpected Holy Spirit.

But, I overestimated my abilities.

I’m just an average little wizard, and a very old-fashioned, uninspiring little wizard at that.

Just like the balance in my heart. On one side is my fondness and curiosity for you. On the other side, at the beginning, it was empty. The balance always leaned towards you.

Whenever your choices conflict with mine, I always just go along with you with a smile, never revealing where I am hurt. Because I feel that feelings should be mutual; I take care of your feelings while you take care of mine.

It wasn’t until the balance gradually filled with weights that I blandly realized what a selfish person I am.

I selfishly gave you a hundred chances but never spoke them out. When you unknowingly used up these hundred chances, I felt justified in leaving without needing any explanations.

I don’t know why I wrote these, just felt that you should know what I’m thinking.

When I’m with you, I’m too clumsy with words, always unable to speak.

Having written this down, I also feel that these really aren’t the words I wanted to say...”

The letter ends there.

The last ellipses might suggest the author’s mood was down, his mind blank, hence unable to continue writing; or perhaps it is simply because the letter paper ran out of space for his palm-sized, scrawled brush handwriting.

Spring carries the sun, there are chimes from the storehouse bell.

Outside the window, the oriole bird sings under the warm sunlight and gentle breeze, cheering on the young wizards studying hard.

Elena sits at her fixed seat on the third floor of the library, holding the letter in her hand, smilingly reading it in the sunlight of spring.

The light blue letter paper bears a faded hyacinth watermark, just like the witch’s current mood.

”What a pure little fellow.”

The Gypsy witch rests her cheek on one hand, while the other hand holds the letter, watching the sunlight pass through the paper back, shadows of the white hyacinths flickering on the table surface, she suddenly smiles and adds:

”And a confused little fellow.”

...

...

Not long after the blue Paper Crane flew away, Zheng Qing regretted it.

But men, for the sake of pride, always like to stubbornly persist when they shouldn’t.

He sits behind the dormitory desk, staring out the window, hoping that the blue Paper Crane would bring a reply and peck at the glass window.

This absent-minded mood greatly affected his state.

Xiao Xiao noticed this.

”Why don’t you go to the library today and review with Elena?” he took off his glasses, rubbed the corners of his eyes, and let out a big yawn: ”Anyway, you can’t study on your own.”

”We broke up.” The cost student replied hoarsely and bluntly.

”Ah?”

This exclamation was not from Xiao Xiao, but from behind Zheng Qing, from Xin Fat Man’s bunk.

Xiao Xiao was also surprised, but merely put down his hand that was massaging the corner of his eye and gave Zheng Qing a serious look, as if trying to figure out if he was joking.

”What ’ah’!” Zheng Qing casually pinched a paper ball and threw it into the Fat Man’s curtain.

”I mean... you guys ended it?” The Fat Man’s head emerged from the curtain, looking like a tabloid journalist who got hold of breaking news.

Zheng Qing snorted with his nose, suddenly feeling less regretful.

”Of course it’s over.” He put on a haughty demeanor, and spoke indifferently: ”If we were still together, I would probably be sitting in the library or Yota restaurant... rather than here listening to your boring ’ah ah’.”

”But,” Xiao Xiao had already put his glasses back on, looking seriously at the young cost student: ”... Why? There is always a reason for everything, and if I remember correctly, you were still together yesterday.”

As he spoke, he tapped his own head.

”Hmph.” Zheng Qing did not deign to answer such a question—or rather, he didn’t know how to answer. Should he tell his friend that he just acted on impulse?

”Breaking up is good!”

Xin Fat Man emerged from his bedding at some point, stroking Tuan Tuan and analyzed earnestly: ”... In my opinion, you never liked her from the start; you were just curious about how someone with Gypsy heritage would be different from you. Your interest was more about curiosity, not love...”

Zheng Qing tilted his head back slightly, frowning as he listened.

The Fat Man’s analysis surprisingly matched the content of his letter—even though Fat Man was just a single dog—could it be that the reasons men think of for breaking up are all so similar?

This is a very worthwhile philosophical topic to explore.

”...So, hurrah for the end!”

Xin Fat Man raised his arms, lifting Fat Cat high over his head, vigorously shaking it, and shouted loudly: ”I always wanted to tell you, you should find friends with similar heritage to yourself, or at the very least ensure they are of purer Earth lineage. You know, those Gypsy witches always have some weird ideas, just like her, don’t you think she smells a bit strange?”

Tuan Tuan felt dizzy from the shaking, squealed, extended its sharp claws, and left a few superficial marks on Banna’s arm.

”Smell?” Zheng Qing raised his eyebrows curiously.

The Fat Man hugged Fat Cat back into his arms, pondered momentarily, then came up with a more robust argument: ”...That strong perfume, I don’t know what you think, but I just can’t breathe around her.”

”Isn’t that body fragrance?” the young cost student murmured, internally silently defending: ”I actually think her scent smells quite nice.”

”I think I smell the scent of a broken heart.” Dylan half crawled out of his coffin quietly, his gaze hauntingly fixed on the cost student as he sighed lowly like a charlatan: ”...This is the sign of Spring’s curtain falling.”

Zheng Qing was startled by this sudden voice.

He looked up at the sky.

”At this hour, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Zheng Qing pointed towards the Sun still hanging in the sky, reminding him.

”Sleeping doesn’t smell as good as the scent of heartbreak.” Mister Blood Wolfman did not hide his schadenfreude nature at all: ”If Elena had chopped you up all bloody with a firewood hatchet, it would smell even better.”