"Quistian."
Ofilienne murmured softly, her gaze trailing after Matyos's small, retreating figure as he disappeared into the distance.
As if answering the call, an old man who had been standing in silence within the shadows stepped forward.
"Yes, my lady."
Silver hair swept back in a smooth wave, a beard trimmed to a blade's edge of precision. A towering figure of well over six feet materialized without a sound and bowed with impeccable deference.
The Moretti family's butler of nearly half a century. Quistian Öringen. He was also the 'gift' that Family Head Servan had presented to his daughter to celebrate her enrollment at the academy — more formidable and reassuring than any treasure he could have offered.
"Look into Professor Harsen. Thoroughly."
"Understood."
Ofilienne savored her wine. The rich crimson liquid kissed her lips.
Quistian dissolved back into the shadows and was gone.
* * *
Harsen Karipie.
As the head of a distinguished family of bureaucrats, he was a man of considerable social standing and reputation.
Generous donations, a wide range of charitable work, clean politics that gave voice to the concerns of ordinary citizens.
Harsen's abilities were, frankly, insufficient for a position as an academy professor. Yet through his many connections and his reputation for good character, he had been appointed to the post regardless.
Even after becoming a professor, Harsen had not lost his foundational principles. He donated his professorial salary to orphanages, giving freely of what he had without reservation.
It was no wonder the citizens of Porca called him 'Harsen the Giving.'
Yet shadows exist in every place.
"Huff, huff…"
The moment he saw a young girl playing in the courtyard — Harsen found the missing piece of his life that he had long believed lost.
A slight frame. Small, gently curved shoulders. Pretty knees.
He knew.
He knew that what he was feeling was evil itself, in its purest form.
He endured.
He held himself back, refusing to let desire conquer reason. Because if he didn't, there would be no coming back. Everything he had built would crumble.
But just as a riverbank cannot hold back infinite water, Harsen's vile desire continued to encroach upon the territory of reason. It was when that encroachment was finally nearing its limit.
"What is it. What is it that torments you so."
"Wh— who's there—?!"
"You know yourself better than anyone."
Shhhh.
Someone draped in a black robe appeared without warning. They had trespassed into the academy professor's office. How on earth—? Before he could even begin to resolve that question, the black-robed figure's words had struck too precisely at the mark.
"I know you as well. You desire young things, and you wish to kill them."
"…That's—!"
"Do not be afraid. I will give you freedom from endurance. Come now, receive this with reverence."
What the unidentified intruder offered was a black scripture. On its cover, in place of a cross, was a dark crimson inverted pentagram.
"From this day forward, serve the 'true' god. That alone will bring you genuine peace."
He stared blankly at the scripture, then looked back up — but the figure was already gone.
After that, Harsen found a new 'true' god. He came to understand. He came to believe.
The dark cellar beneath the Karipie estate.
A secret space that only Harsen himself could enter.
"P— please… let me go…"
A young girl trembled violently.
Her arms and legs were bound with heavy iron chains.
"…Sophia. Do you know? You were shining to me."
"Please let me go…"
"From the very first moment I saw you, I could not contain it. This love that boils within my chest!"
Harsen exhaled in ragged breaths, gazing at the girl with hungry, devouring eyes. Sophia wept, her body shaking with hiccups.
"I held back until now. Because I had to. Because I am a good man. But not anymore."
Harsen held up the black scripture.
"God has granted me an indulgence, Sophia. So do not resent me. Do not grieve. This is the will of God!"
Clink.
Harsen undid his belt. A flabby roll of stomach spilled out. Below it, a hairy groin was exposed.
As he slowly advanced, Sophia screamed.
But it was a cellar deep underground.
There was no one to hear her screams and come to her aid.
"Is that so."
It was sudden.
From the shadows behind Harsen, beyond the reach of the lamplight, an old man in a formal suit walked forward with measured, unhurried steps.
"So the Young Lord's words were true."
Harsen spun around in a panic.
Quistian stood there calmly, hands clasped behind his back.
"Who are you…"
"I serve the Moretti family. Quistian Öringen."
"You've been digging into my affairs?"
Harsen broke into a cold sweat, forcing himself to ask the question with studied composure. At the same time, his hand slipped carefully into his coat and found the grip of a pistol, finger curling around the trigger. The moment he saw an opening, he would fire.
"Before that, there is something I wish to ask. Will you answer me? Professor Harsen."
"Speak."
"Have you committed crimes of this nature before?"
"…This is the first time."
It was the truth.
Sophia had been the first to become the object of Harsen's desire.
"Second — did you have plans to commit the same crime against Young Lord Matyos?"
"Matyos…?"
Harsen's face was one of genuine incomprehension.
"What does that have to do with anything?!"
That was the moment. Harsen drew the pistol and lunged into a surprise attack. It had been loaded in advance.
The bullet flew toward Quistian.
Ting!
Quistian deflected the bullet without so much as flinching. A semi-transparent barrier had materialized around him.
This was precisely why firearms could never overcome magic.
Shwick!
Quistian flicked his wrist. Daggers rose into the air like startled doves.
They traced a gentle arc and buried themselves into Harsen.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Wrist. Inner thigh. Side. Eye.
"AAAARGH!!"
Harsen, who had been about to cast a spell, crumpled to the ground with a scream. He was a 6th Tier mage. Quistian was also a 6th Tier mage. But not all mages were combat mages.
Harsen was a mage who focused on theoretical research. He was far from proficient in combat magic.
Clop. Clop.
Quistian walked forward.
The quiet sound of his footsteps echoed through the cellar.
Click.
Quistian severed the iron chains binding the girl with a dagger.
"Ah… th— thank… you."
The girl stared in bewilderment and managed her thanks. She had thought she was about to suffer something unspeakable, and yet she had survived as if by a miracle. She could not bring herself to believe it.
"Please wait outside for a moment. Once I have dealt with this one, I will escort you back to the orphanage."
Quistian looked down at Harsen — now half-crippled on the floor — as one might look down at an ant, and spoke.
* * *
Porca Academy is an institution of learning that cultivates the elites of the future.
The quality of that education is exceptional. And grueling.
There was a reason the elites who graduated from Porca were held in such high regard.
My adoptive father had drawn up my lecture schedule for the academy.
Monday: Swordsmanship lecture.
Tuesday: Basic Mana lecture, Combat Magic lecture.
Wednesday: Advanced Hispanya lecture, Advanced Sharlan lecture.
Thursday: Exploration of Unknown Territories lecture.
Friday: Finance lecture, Social Etiquette lecture, Dance and Music lecture.
Saturday: Understanding Warfare lecture, Universal History lecture, Strategy lecture.
The moment I first saw the timetable, I swore under my breath.
Six days of lectures a week.
Was this even remotely reasonable?
How was there only one day off?
I hadn't been hoping for free periods, honestly. But six days a week was a bit much…!
'And every single one of them is a difficult course.'
Two foreign languages to study, and on top of that, the notoriously demanding warfare lectures.
This was a long-held conviction of my adoptive father, Servan.
'A mage who cannot read the battlefield is nothing more than a soldier. You must become a general, not a soldier.'
A mage is a god of the battlefield.
With overwhelming firepower that no infantry can match, they annihilate and shatter the enemy.
It was for this reason that mages took command of warfare.
Because only a mage knows how to unleash magic at the right place, at the right time, in the right manner.
"Haah… I'm exhausted. Completely exhausted."
Wednesday was over.
I had studied two foreign languages.
Hispanya and Sharlan.
The one saving grace was that they weren't impossibly difficult to learn. Both languages belonged to the same linguistic family as the Imperial tongue. Having branched off from the ancient language, they shared common roots.
And Huana had agreed to help me with Hispanya. In exchange, she had proposed lifetime servitude — mine, to her. When I declined, she looked startled and quickly changed her offer to simply helping me for free.
Up until now, Huana and I had spoken to each other in Imperial. So going forward, we decided to mix in Hispanya whenever we talked. Language improves through use, after all.
The next day.
The general education lecture, 'Exploration of Unknown Territories.'
True to its reputation as a course spanning all years, the lecture hall was filled with a restless, buzzing energy. I sat somewhere in the middle of that noise, blearily sipping my morning coffee and fighting off sleep.
Morning coffee is the only way.
Tap — a light warmth settled on my shoulder.
At the same moment, a soft wave of silvery-white drifted into the edge of my vision. Then came the rich scent of roses, teasing at the tip of my nose. I didn't even need to turn my head to know it was my sister.
"Sleep well?"
A languid voice, close to my ear.
She ruffled my hair with casual ease and settled into the seat beside me. When the morning sunlight pouring through the window touched her hair, it shimmered like finely wrought silver thread, casting a translucent glow.
A glance.
Her gaze lingered on the coffee in my hand. I reflexively pulled the cup toward myself. No. This was my lifeline — the one thing keeping me upright this morning.
"Mati."
She smiled lightly and rested her chin in her hand. Those pale grey eyes turned toward me, shining with a quiet, mysterious light — like a lake veiled in early morning mist.
"I'm thirsty. Would you mind if I had some of your coffee?"
Oh, for—
I surrendered. Lips pressed into a pout, I held out the cup.
"Thank you. My little brother really is sweet."
Ugh.
As though my childish resistance was endearing, she gave my pouting lips a light pinch, then took the coffee. Without a moment's hesitation, she wrapped her lips around the straw I had already been drinking from.
Gulp.
With each swallow, her long, pale throat moved in a graceful, flowing line. Her lips — red against skin so translucent the faint blue of veins showed through — touched the end of the straw and then released it.
"Ah, refreshing. Somehow it tastes better when it's my little brother's."
She laughed playfully and held the coffee back out to me. The tip of the straw glistened with a faint dampness, still warm from her lips.
I reached for my handkerchief to wipe it off — and at that exact moment, she abruptly pushed the cup toward my mouth.
Before I could refuse, the straw slipped between my lips.
"…!"
She watched my flustered expression with amusement, shoulders shaking as she stifled a laugh. It was a mischievous prank entirely at odds with her polished appearance.
…Disgusting.
"Ah, that's funny. Come on, relax your face. I have good news."
"Good news?"
"You'll find out within a few days."
She reached into her jacket pocket and produced a small chocolate. Before I could respond, her fingers gently parted my lips. The sensation of her thumb pressing the chocolate inside was far too vivid.
"Want one?"
She had already answered for me. Her thumb pushed the chocolate past my lips.
The moment sweetness spread across my tongue, she slowly licked the chocolate crumbs from her own thumb.
"Hey, Mati~"
Tiana arrived just then.
"Oh, hello Mati — and hello to your sister as well!"
Tiana greeted them both with bright, sparkling eyes. My sister gave a graceful tilt of her head, those grey eyes curving into a faint smile.
"Hello. You're Tiana Pilrn, wasn't it?"
"You remembered my name!"
"Of course — you're my brother's friend. And this must be Taibeon Pilrn?"
Taibeon offered a somewhat hesitant greeting.
"N— nice to meet you…"
It wasn't just the Pilrn siblings. Yuri was there as well. She sat with her usual composed expression, gaze drifting somewhere into the middle distance.
'Exploration of Unknown Territories' was a popular lecture — engaging, and generous with its credits.
"Welcome, everyone~ I'm Generica, and I'll be teaching Exploration of Unknown Territories~!"
The professor arrived precisely on time.
A short, bespectacled middle-aged woman. She gave off the impression of someone who might smell faintly of herbs — and indeed, she was a woman who spent a great deal of time in nature.
Professor Generica ran through a brief orientation, then made an announcement toward the end of the session.
"As I mentioned, we will be conducting actual, hands-on explorations of unknown territories! Exciting, isn't it? Our first destination is the Thorn Forest!"
Professor Generica explained the map with infectious enthusiasm. I straightened in my seat.
'The Thorn Forest.'
It was a place I absolutely had to visit for the Ink Star to grow.
"It's the forest where the Thorn Witch once lived — the one ancient kings feared. For this lecture, we'll be walking through the Thorn Forest on foot and conducting a survey! I'll now announce the groups. Four students per group."
Professor Generica drew the groups by lottery — names written on slips of paper, placed into a box, and drawn at random.
And so.
— Matyos Binna Moretti, Ohen Ran Dshpalt, Demian Ladon, Yuri Ayende.
The group was drawn.
"Not everyone will know each other, of course. But! Once you explore and discuss things together, you'll warm up quickly. I hope you all make the most of it!"