Oz Bezarius just wanted a normal first day of the new term at Latwidge Academy. Instead, he overslept, nearly tripped over a parade of black cats, and arrived at his desk to find a fluffy black rabbit plushie with a name tag reading "Alice" and a serious attitude problem.
The plushie talks. It demands. And according to it, Oz is now its property.
As a member of a family of Storytellers—those who wield Echo Magic to breathe life into objects—Oz knows the strange rules of his world better than m
Pandora Academy: After-School Aviss - The bottom-of-the-barrel hospital room, a world without Alice
The smell of antiseptic. A white ceiling. From beyond the curtain, someone's sleeping breath.
Oz Bezarius realized his body was lying on a bed. An IV tube ran into his arm. There was nothing on his chest.
(Alice...?)
He reached out. The place beside him where that black fluff should have been. All his fingertips touched was the cold feel of sheets. No lingering warmth, no softness of fur—none of it was there.
"...Alice."
His voice cracked. The back of his throat stung, as if scraped with sandpaper.
Black mist. Writhing darkness. In that moment, Oz had definitely held Alice against his chest. The feeling still lingered in his arms. He'd sworn he would never let go.
And yet.
"Alice...! Alice!!"
Oz shot up from the bed. The IV needle tore free from the momentum, and blood welled from the back of his hand. A red streak traced toward his wrist. He didn't feel any pain.
"Where...where are you, Alice...!"
The infirmary door swung open with a sound.
"Oz. You're awake."
Gilbert stood there. His black hair was disheveled, a scrape on his cheek. His right arm was stiff with bandages, suspended from his neck. And under his arm, a crutch. The sound of its tip striking the floor echoed strangely loud.
"Gil...your arm."
"It's broken. A few weeks to heal completely."
Gilbert's voice had lost its usual sharpness. A deep exhaustion and something like endurance colored it.
"Never mind that—where's Alice? Where's Alice!?"
Oz tried to get off the bed. The instant his soles touched the floor, his knees gave out. His palms struck the cold floor.
"Oz, don't push yourself!"
Gilbert tossed aside his crutch and braced Oz's side with one arm. The clatter of the crutch rolling across the floor. Gilbert's arm was trembling faintly.
"Gil, Alice—I was holding her. I definitely was. And yet she's not here...!"
Gilbert was silent for a while. The roughness of bandages transmitted through the palm on Oz's shoulder.
"...Oz. Listen calmly."
Gilbert's hand rested on Oz's shoulder. That hand was trembling slightly.
"Alice was taken by the shadows. Her whereabouts are unknown."
It hit like a blunt weapon to the skull. A high ringing sounded deep in his ears.
"...What did you just say?"
"We pulled you out of that black mist. But Alice...was carried off."
"That...that's a lie, right!?"
"It's not a lie."
Gilbert's golden eyes looked straight at Oz.
"Lady Sharon exhausted her Echo magic and collapsed with a high fever. She's recuperating at the Rainsworth estate now. Break lost his left eye to the shadows. He's lost his sight."
Oz's breathing grew shallow. His ribcage barely rose and fell.
"And I'm in this state."
Gilbert looked down at his bandaged right arm, as if mocking himself.
"Far from protecting you—I couldn't protect a single person."
Those words drove deep into Oz's chest.
"No...that's not it! If I—if I'd just moved faster back then...!"
Oz slammed his fist against the floor. A dull sound. Blood seeped slowly into his palm. Red pooled between his nails.
"I'm going to find Alice! I'll find her no matter what!"
Oz stood. His legs wavered. But he didn't stop.
"Oz, wait! You're not back to full strength either!"
"Like I care! How can I sit still when I don't know where Alice is!?"
Oz bolted out of the infirmary.
The hallway. Afternoon light slanted in through the windows. The shadows cast on the floor were strangely long.
"Alice—!!"
Oz's shout echoed through the quiet corridor.
"Alice, where are you—! Answer me—!!"
He ran. He fell. He got up. He ran again. The gritty feel of scraped knees lingered against the soles of his socks.
Classrooms. The rooftop. The school store. In front of the library. The courtyard.
She was nowhere.
"Alice...Alice...!"
Oz's vision blurred with tears. The bulletin board in the hallway looked warped.
"You always climbed on my face to wake me up...I haven't even bought you a nikuman yet...!"
His voice cracked.
"You were the one who said I was your property...so don't just disappear on your own...!"
At the corner of the hallway, Oz sank down as if his strength had run out. His back hit the wall. Cold.
"...Where are you, Alice."
Oz's voice was already hoarse, about to fade.
That was when.
"Hey, look. Isn't that the Bezarius guy?"
"Yikes. You shouldn't get close to him."
"That black rabbit was a dangerous story's residue, wasn't it?"
"That's why he got hurt so badly. He brought it on himself."
Whispers meant to be heard. Students keeping their distance. Footsteps deliberately retreating.
"That rabbit was cursed. That's why everyone got dragged into it."
"What was the Bezarius young master even thinking?"
"How pitiful. Gilbert too, and Lady Sharon, and Break."
The words became blades, piercing Oz.
(It's my fault.)
(All of it, my fault.)
Oz covered his ears. His palms pressed flat against the backs of his ears.
But the voices still reached him.
"...No. Alice isn't cursed."
Oz's murmur reached no one.
──
"Bezarius. The chairman is calling for you."
A cold voice. A teacher in a suit looked down at Oz.
Oz rose unsteadily. His knees were shaking.
The chairman's office. A heavy wooden door. Portraits of past chairmen lined the walls. The smell of paint mixed with the smell of old paper.
At the back of the room. Beyond a large desk sat a white-haired old man.
The chairman of Latowidge Academy. And one of only twelve "Story Keepers" in the entire country.
"Bezarius."
His voice was quiet. But that quietness was, conversely, terrifying.
"I'd like to hear your account of how you brought a dangerous story's residue onto campus and left multiple people injured."
"Alice isn't some dangerous residue!"
"Is that so? Then why did Grimheart shadows of that scale appear? Why did the people around you get hurt so badly?"
Oz was at a loss for words. Only breath leaked from his open mouth.
"Gilbert broke his right arm. Sharon collapsed from magic depletion with a high fever. Break lost his left eye. And you...protected nothing."
Oz's fists clenched tight. His nails dug into his palms.
"As a member of the Bezarius family, aren't you ashamed?"
Oz couldn't argue back.
(No. Alice isn't like that.)
(She's just a glutton, and violent, but...)
(She was my sun.)
"This time it will be a severe warning. But if anything happens again, expulsion is possible. Keep that in mind."
"...Yes."
Oz bowed his head slightly.
He left the chairman's office. The hallway was dyed in the colors of dusk. Orange light made the seams of the floorboards stand out.
Oz's steps were heavy.
When he returned to the infirmary, his phone was lying on the bed.
The screen was lit.
An incoming call.
Seeing the name displayed, Oz's body went rigid.
"Zai Bezarius."
His father.
With trembling fingers, Oz pressed the call button. The glass of the screen clouded with the grease of his fingers.
"Oz."
The voice over the phone. Low, cold.
"...Dad."
"I hear you've done it again."
Oz couldn't say anything. His throat felt blocked, unmoving.
"You're always like this. Just like your mother—you make everyone around you unhappy."
His chest tightened. The inside of his ribs creaked.
"That's not..."
"Everyone you get close to gets hurt. You're cursed, Oz. You have been since the day you were born."
"Stop...!"
"If you hadn't picked up that stuffed toy, Gilbert, the Rainsworth girl, the servants—none of them would have been hurt."
"...No, I..."
"If you didn't exist, everyone would have been happy."
Click.
The call ended.
Oz couldn't move, still gripping the phone. The light of the screen eventually faded.
"...No...that's not true..."
The tears wouldn't stop. They ran down his cheeks, dripped from his chin, and stained the sheets.
The hand holding the phone trembled.
"I...I just wanted to protect Alice..."
No one was listening.
Oz curled up on the bed. He hugged his knees to his chest and rounded his back. In a fetal position, he simply trembled.
──
Night.
Oz had shut himself in his room.
He hadn't turned on the lights.
Only moonlight came through the window. Pale blue light fell in a square on the floor.
In Oz's hand was a small scrap of cloth.
A name tag that read "Alice."
It had been attached to Alice's collar. At some point it had ended up in Oz's pocket. The edge of the cloth was frayed. Tracing it with his finger, it felt rough.
"...Because I'm weak."
Oz held the name tag against his chest. The cloth picked up the beating of his heart.
"If I'd been stronger, I could have protected you..."
Tears soaked into the sheets. The stain spread slowly.
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry, Alice..."
Oz cried, stifling his voice. He gritted his teeth and crushed his sobs deep in his throat.
How long had he been like that?
Knock, knock.
A quiet knock.
"Oz. You awake?"
Gilbert's voice.
Oz didn't answer. He held his breath.
"I'm coming in."
The door opened.
The sound of a crutch. The floor creaked, gishi, gishi.
Gilbert held a package in one hand. The bottom of the paper bag was stained with grease.
"Eat something. You haven't eaten anything, have you."
Gilbert set the package on the desk beside the bed.
The smell of sandwiches. The scent of toasted bread and ham fat spread through the dark room. Oz's stomach growled faintly. But his appetite was nowhere to be found.
"...Gil, I'm sorry. For making you push yourself too."
Oz's voice was hoarse.
"Don't apologize. I did it on my own."
"But your arm...because of me..."
"It's not your fault!"
Gilbert's voice rang through the room. As if bouncing off the walls.
"...It's not your fault. Those shadows were after Alice. We got caught up in it. That's all."
"But...if I hadn't brought Alice to the academy..."
"That's hindsight."
Gilbert sat down beside Oz. The bedsprings sank with a creak. The weight of it transmitted through the mattress.
"If I'd been stronger—"
Gilbert cut himself off there.
Silence.
A heavy air flowed between them. Only the smell of the sandwiches felt strangely vivid.
"...I was thinking the same thing."
Oz gripped the name tag. The cloth grew damp with sweat.
"If I'd been stronger, I could have protected Alice. Everyone wouldn't have gotten hurt."
"Oz..."
"My father told me. That I'm just like my mother—that I make everyone around me unhappy."
Gilbert's shoulder twitched.
"Maybe it's true. Because I get close, everyone gets hurt."
"No! You haven't made anyone unhappy!"
"But look—you broke your arm, Sharon collapsed, Break lost his eye, and Alice...is gone."
Oz's voice trembled.
"It's all my fault."
Gilbert couldn't say anything.
The two of them stayed silent in the dark room. The moonlight slowly shifted its angle.
Eventually, Gilbert stood. The crutch struck the floor.
"...I'll leave the food here. Eat it when you can."
Gilbert left the room on his crutch.
The door closed quietly. A small click.
Oz was alone.
"...I can't protect anyone anymore."
Oz hugged the name tag. The edge of the cloth poked out between his fingers.
"What...what am I supposed to do, Alice..."
The tears wouldn't stop.
──
That was when.
Knock, knock.
A sound tapping the window.
Oz raised his head. The night air was cold against his tear-wet cheeks.
Outside the window. In the moonlight.
There was a figure. Backlit, only the outline floating there.
A large hat. An eerie grin.
The Mad Hatter.
"Well, well. You look quite exhausted."
The Hatter stood outside the window. As if floating in midair.
"You...!"
Oz rushed to the window. The cold of the floor stabbed at his bare soles.
"Give her back...give Alice back!!"
Oz pounded his fist against the window glass.
Bang, bang, bang!
The glass shuddered from the inside. The skin of his fist split.
"If you want her back, first you must remember who you are."
The Hatter's voice came through clearly even through the window.
"Do you have the right to protect her?"
Oz froze. His fist stopped in midair.
"You know nothing—not about yourself,
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