Boarding School Juliet: Requiem — Lovers After the War
The night before the prefect election, a threatening letter arrives: *Cancel the election, or there will be blood. — Child of War.*
For a year, Inudzuka Romio, head prefect of the Black Dog dormitory, has fought to bridge the bitter divide between East and West at Dahlia Academy. And at the heart of that fight lies his secret—Juliet Persia, head prefect of the White Cat dormitory, the girl he loves and can meet only in the shadows of the library.
But as shattered windows and red-painted warnin
Boarding School Juliet: Requiem — Lovers After the War - Blood-Written Morning — Head Prefect Inudzuka Romio —
The air before dawn still carried the last remnants of winter. Only the footsteps of Inudzuka Romio echoed with steady rhythm through the corridor of the Black Dog dormitory, sharp in the profound silence of the building. Beyond the windows, the ridgeline of the Kiriha Mountains rose dark against an indigo sky. Those mountains—the ones that divided the Eastern Nation from the Principality of West. This academy had been built at their foothills, in the buffer zone between the two countries: a boarding school founded on the ideal of reconciliation.
As the head prefect of the Black Dog dormitory, Romio had spent the past year racing about, working to improve relations with the White Cat dormitory. His black-based uniform with its stand-up collar and red necktie sat on a muscular, hundred-and-eighty-centimeter frame that refused to hunch against the morning chill, spine held straight. His short black hair stuck up slightly from sleep, and a small scar on his left eyebrow lent a rugged edge to his still-young face. Around his right wrist, as always, was tied the red hair ribbon she had given him.
It was at this early hour that the dorm supervisor, Tetsuyama, had summoned him. This was no small matter. Romio knocked on the heavy door of the supervisor's office, a small, hard premonition rolling around in the pit of his chest.
"Enter."
A low, muffled voice. Romio opened the door. Inside the room stood Tetsuyama Gou—supervisor of the Black Dog dormitory, former military man. In his forties, he always held his back straight and watched over the dorm students with sharp eyes. But this morning, something heavy and grim clung to Tetsuyama's face, distinct from his usual severity. On the desk lay a single envelope.
"Sorry to call you out so early."
Tetsuyama said it briefly and pushed the envelope toward Romio. Romio took it in silence. The letter inside, written in black ink, read:
*Cancel the prefect election. Otherwise, there will be blood. — Child of War.*
Romio's eyes traced the words. Blood. Child of War. The area around his heart tightened as if doused in cold water. But he lifted his head. His deep brown eyes fixed straight on Tetsuyama.
"This was delivered to the academy?"
"Yeah. This morning, it was pasted on the gatepost at the main entrance. Several other copies with the same wording have been found as well."
Tetsuyama crossed his arms and paused, as if waiting for Romio's reaction. Outside the window, the voices of small birds announcing the dawn sounded strangely distant.
"You're the one in charge of the election. What will you do?"
"That's obvious. The election proceeds as scheduled."
The answer was immediate. Tetsuyama's brow shifted slightly.
"A threatening letter has been issued. If you cancel, at least no blood will be shed. You know as well as anyone how tense things are between the two dormitories. There's no need to pour more oil on the fire—"
"That's exactly what they want."
Romio set the letter down on the desk.
"If we cancel the election, reconciliation regresses. It means we bowed to intimidation. I won't let a single letter destroy what we've spent a year building."
Tetsuyama stared at Romio's face for a while. Then he let out a deep breath.
"...Understood. But don't do anything reckless. For now, refrain from any words or actions that might provoke the dorm students. Understood?"
"Yes."
Romio answered briefly and left the supervisor's office. Out in the corridor, the morning light had begun to stream through the windows. Even so, his heart would not clear. Child of War. That name stuck in a corner of his mind and would not let go.
Lunch break. Romio was in the deepest part of the library, in the shadow of a bookshelf where people rarely came. The Dahlia Academy library held some twenty thousand volumes. The smell of old leather-bound books and the dry scent of paper filled the quiet air. Romio traced the spines with his finger and waited.
Before long, light footsteps approached. The moment he turned, something in his chest loosened and floated free.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
Juliet Persia emerged from behind the bookshelf. Her long blonde hair was, today as always, carefully woven into a braid. Even in the dim light of the library, that hair shone soft as honey. Her large, clear sky-blue eyes looked up at Romio. The White Cat dormitory uniform wrapped her small frame—barely five foot three. The elegant white-based design suited her serious, refined air perfectly.
She was the head prefect of the White Cat dormitory. By rights, she and Romio of the Black Dog dormitory should never meet alone. And yet, like this, the two of them had stolen these brief rendezvous in the depths of the library, again and again.
"No, I just got here too."
Romio felt his voice soften of its own accord. Juliet looked at his face for a moment, then let out a small breath.
"...The White Cat dormitory got one too. The same threatening letter."
Romio's chest went cold again. So it was true after all.
"I see. I figured as much."
"I'm scared. It feels like the election is being dragged into something much bigger. And besides..."
Juliet lowered her eyes. Her braid slipped from her shoulder.
"I keep thinking—maybe because I'm with you, your position is being put in danger."
Those words pierced Romio's chest with a dull blade. That she had been thinking such a thing. Romio took Juliet's hand. White and small. Slightly cold.
"It's not your fault."
Romio gripped her hand tight.
"I'll make the election a success, and I'll show up whoever sent that letter. So don't say things like that."
Juliet's sky-blue eyes looked up at Romio. Slowly, they grew moist.
"...You're strong, aren't you."
"I'm not strong at all. I just don't want to see that look on your face."
Romio said it a little roughly, as if to hide his embarrassment. Juliet's cheeks flushed faintly red. A wind carrying the scent of old paper passed quietly between them.
Just then, a small sound came from beyond the bookshelf. Romio instinctively braced himself and shielded Juliet behind his back. But the one standing there was the librarian, Mira Nott. In her thirties, she wore a calm expression and pretended not to have noticed them, returning books to the shelf. Yet at the corners of her mouth floated the faintest smile. Romio and Juliet exchanged a glance and hurriedly let go of each other's hands.
That night. A sharp sound rang out through the first-floor dining hall of the Black Dog dormitory. The shrill noise of shattering glass. By the time Romio rushed to the scene, the dining hall windows had been smashed to pieces, and on the outer wall, in red paint, large letters had been written:
*Expel the White Cats.*
Red letters, like blood. Dorm students gathered, murmuring. Unease and anger clouded the air.
"What the hell is this?!"
Pushing through the crowd, Maru Chizuru stepped forward. His black hair, slicked back, was hardened with wax, and his narrow, sharp eyes glared at the red letters. His hundred-and-seventy-eight-centimeter frame was as solid as Romio's own. The leader of the Black Dog dormitory's radicals. A man who regarded the White Cat dormitory as the enemy and had opposed Romio's reconciliation efforts head-on.
"This has to be the White Cats' doing! They're trying to sabotage our election!"
At Maru's voice, the surrounding dorm students began to clamor in agreement. The air in the dining hall turned taut, on the verge of explosion. Romio stepped forward.
"Wait, Maru. Don't jump to conclusions about who did this."
"Hah?! Then who did it, huh?! There's no one else it could be but the White Cats!"
Maru lunged at Romio verbally. His eyes were genuinely furious. His patriotism toward the Eastern Nation was boiling his blood. Romio looked straight back into Maru's eyes.
"This isn't just some prank. It's a divide-and-conquer operation using the election. Someone wants us to fight the White Cats. Don't take the bait."
"Then what are we supposed to do?! Just sit here and take it?!"
"First, we confirm the facts. After that. And I absolutely will not allow anyone to attack the innocent."
There was a force in Romio's voice that brooked no argument. Maru glared at him for a while, but eventually clicked his tongue and turned his back.
"...Do what you want. But there's no doubt the White Cats are involved."
Maru spat that out and disappeared into the crowd. The dorm students gradually dispersed as well. Romio stood alone, gazing at the shattered window glass and the red letters on the wall. The wind whistled through the shards of glass.
The next morning. Romio was summoned to the academy's reception room. There sat Inudzuka Airu—Romio's older brother by one year. A man with a cold impression, his black hair neatly ordered, silver-rimmed glasses on his face. The current head of the Inudzuka family, a clan of Eastern Nation politicians, and a man who had once served as head prefect of Dahlia Academy's Black Dog dormitory. To Romio, he had also been an object of fear, having disciplined him strictly since childhood.
"You're here."
Airu looked at Romio from where he sat on the sofa. His gaze was less that of an older brother toward his younger sibling and more that of an appraiser.
"...Yeah."
Romio perched shallowly on the sofa across from Airu.
"I've heard about the threatening letter. So you have no intention of canceling the election."
"None. If we cancel, reconciliation regresses."
Airu narrowed his eyes behind his glasses.
"I understand your thinking. But the situation is far worse than you imagine. The peace negotiations between the East and the West are on the verge of collapse. The academy's reconciliation is being toyed with by both governments' agendas."
Airu's voice was dispassionate. That, in turn, drove the weight of reality home to Romio.
"Your romance with the Persia girl is still not enough to move a nation. Waving around sweet ideals alone won't change anything."
Romio's fist clenched hard on his knee. He wanted to argue back. But no words came. His brother's words were far too correct.
"...Even so, I—"
"Make the election a success. But that alone won't bring peace. Don't forget that."
Leaving those words behind, Airu stood. Before Romio could say anything, the door of the reception room closed quietly. Romio was left alone in the room.
His brother's words echoed in his head. Not enough to move a nation. That alone won't bring peace. The threatening letter. The shattered window glass. The blood-red letters. And Juliet's anxious face.
Romio stared at the red hair ribbon on his right wrist. This ribbon she had given him. Every time he tied it, he remembered. The day he swore he would change the world so he could be with Juliet.
Romio drew a deep breath and clenched his fist.
"...I will make this election a success, no matter what."
His voice echoed small but powerful through the empty reception room. Beyond the window, the mountains of the Kiriha range were lit by the cold morning light. An unseen enemy lurked within the academy. Behind the scenes of peace, the sparks of a new battle had begun to burn—quietly, but surely.
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