The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character Chapter 326 326: The Hair Cut

A tense atmosphere hung over as I sat restrained in the chair, a white cloth draped snugly around my neck. A woman holding a pair of scissors approached with a bright, practiced smile.

For a split second, a ridiculous thought crossed my mind.

Is this the kind of smile an executioner wears before beheading a convict?

I was genuinely scared.

"Sister… why was I brought here?" I asked cautiously.

She laughed lightly. "Your hair's too long and ssy. It's ti to take care of it."

Ah.

Right.

This was a hair salon.

I relaxed a little, though not completely. My hair had grown longer than when I first possessed this body, and it was starting to get in the way. Still, I'd grown oddly attached to it. Long hair felt… like part of who I was now. The idea of cutting it made a little reluctant.

"Ah, please keep the length," a familiar voice said beside . "My brother looks better with long hair than short hair."

"Yes, Ms. Rachel," the stylist replied cheerfully. "Since you're his sister, I'll make sure it suits him perfectly~"

"Thank you," Rachel said with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry too much. The director here is very skilled. I often co here before filming."

…That didn't help.

If anything, it made more nervous. A place celebrities frequent? I could already imagine the absurd prices on the nu.

The stylist gently ran her fingers through my hair. "First, I'll just trim the split ends and tidy up the stray hairs. You have very good features, so with just a bit of care, you'll look much better~"

I forced a polite smile.

Honestly, I'd never been good with the overly cheerful, overly friendly atmosphere hairdressers seed to give off so naturally. It always felt like I had to match their energy, and that alone was exhausting.

The scissors snipped, and I felt a light tug as a small lock of hair fell.

"…You didn't cut off too much, did you?" I asked cautiously.

"Oh, don't worry," she replied smoothly. "I only trimd a tiny bit."

Snip.

I flinched. "That… really didn't sound like a tiny bit."

A soft laugh ca from behind . "If you're that worried, you can open your eyes. The director has a hair-related talent,

rember? She won't ss it up, Rin."

I hesitated, then relaxed slightly, sinking back into the chair. "…I'll trust you on that."

"Well," the director said thoughtfully, comb gliding through my hair, "a light perm would actually suit you. But since you're short on ti today, we'll just do a clean cut and a bit of styling while drying."

I let out a quiet sigh. "As long as I don't walk out looking like a different person."

She chuckled. "No promises—but you'll look better than when you walked in."

The scissors kept moving, their rhythm gradually becoming sothing I could tune out. Snip, comb, snip.

The tension I'd been holding onto finally began to loosen, my shoulders sinking into the chair as warm air from the dryer brushed against my neck.

Rachel leaned against the counter behind , arms folded, watching with obvious interest.

"You know," she said casually, "you really should take better care of yourself.

You're always running around, getting hurt, skipping als… and then you act surprised when you look exhausted."

"…I don't act surprised," I muttered. "I just don't have ti."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's what everyone says right before collapsing."

The stylist laughed softly, clearly enjoying the sibling dynamic. "Your sister's right. Stress shows very easily in hair. But yours is still healthy—just neglected."

Neglected. That stung a little.

The director tilted my head gently to the side, checking the balance. "All right, almost done. I'll just shape the bangs a bit so they don't fall into your eyes."

"Please don't make them too short," I said quickly. "I don't want to look… younger."

Rachel snorted. "Too late for that."

"I heard that."

She smiled innocently. "Did you?"

The final snip sounded, followed by the soft brushing away of stray hairs. The dryer shut off, leaving a sudden, almost awkward quiet.

I opened my eyes just as the director wheeled the mirror around to face .

For a mont, I didn't recognize the person staring back.

My hair was still long—thankfully—but cleaner, lighter sohow. The uneven ends were gone, replaced with a neat, natural flow that frad my face instead of swallowing it. My bangs were trimd just enough to clear my eyes without looking blunt. It wasn't flashy, or dramatic.

It was… . Just better.

"…Huh," I said quietly.

Rachel leaned over my shoulder, eyes lighting up. "See? Much better. You actually look like soone who sleeps now."

"That's a low bar."

"But an important one."

The director smiled, clearly pleased with my reaction. "I told you. No different person—just a more polished version."

I stood up slowly, feeling oddly lighter, as if I'd shed more than just hair. "Thanks," I said honestly. "I was worried for nothing."

She waved it off. "Co back when you're not 'short on ti.' I'll do sothing more fun next ti."

I stiffened. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Rachel laughed as she grabbed her coat.

"Too late. I've already decided. This is now part of your maintenance."

"…Since when do you get to decide that?"

"Since I'm your sister."

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck as we headed for the door. Sohow, walking out of the salon, the world felt a little quieter.

And for once—

I didn't mind that at all.

---

The bell above the salon door chid softly as we stepped outside.

Cool air brushed against my neck, unfamiliar against freshly trimd hair. I instinctively reached up, fingers brushing the ends, half-expecting sothing to feel wrong.

…It didn't.

The street was quieter than I expected. Late afternoon sunlight spilled between buildings, painting the pavent gold.

People passed by, chatting, laughing, living their ordinary lives—completely unaware of how close the world had co to tipping over, how often it still did.

Rachel stopped a few steps ahead and turned back, studying with an oddly thoughtful expression.

"…What?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing. Just… you look more like yourself again."

"That's not very reassuring," I said flatly. "Was I not myself before?"

"You were," she replied. "But you looked like soone who hadn't had ti to be."

I didn't have a coback for that.

We walked side by side for a while. No guards. No dungeon alarms. No mana pressure crawling up my spine. Just the sound of shoes on pavent and the distant hum of traffic.

It felt wrong.

Comfortable—but wrong.

"…Rin," Rachel said suddenly, her voice quieter. "You know this doesn't an you're allowed to go back to doing reckless things, right?"

I glanced at her. She wasn't looking at this ti—her gaze was fixed ahead, jaw set.

"I never stopped," I said honestly.

She sighed, stopping near a crosswalk.

"That's exactly the problem."

For a mont, I saw sothing slip through her expression. Not anger. Not frustration.

Fear.

The kind that stays quiet because it's been there too long.

"I'm not asking you to stop moving forward," she continued. "Just… don't keep doing it alone. You don't have to carry everything by yourself."

I looked away, watching the traffic light change.

"I know," I said after a mont. "I just… forget sotis."

She scoffed lightly. "You forget a lot of things that matter."

"…You're really enjoying this 'older sister' role, aren't you?"

She smiled faintly. "I earned it."

The light turned green. We crossed together.

As we walked, my reflection caught in a shop window. Sa face. Sa eyes.

But clearer.

Less weighed down.

I didn't know how long that would last. I didn't fool myself into thinking a haircut fixed anything important. The dungeon, the mask, the shadows, the staff—all of that was still waiting for .

Still part of .

But for now, at least—

I had a mont to breathe.

And as we disappeared into the flow of the city, I let myself enjoy that small, fragile peace… before the world inevitably demanded sothing from again.