Emperor Assassination. (1)
The theory exam will be divided into common questions and series-specific questions. The practical exam shall follow the same structure.
Leteo Hall's entrance orientation.
That day repeated once more.
Everything proceeded identically.
In the midst of the orientation, the Complete Isolation Spell Barrier swallowed the space whole—yet even within it, Deculein resumed his explanation of the requirements.
—So, if we enter the tower, we can take Senior Professor Deculein's class right away~?
—No.
—Gasp! Why why? I wanna take the senior professor's class~!
An unchanged situation. Even witnessing it all with her own eyes, Ifrin couldn't comprehend. Her mind was utterly blank.
“Greetings.”
Then, that voice approached once more. A chilling pressure of mana. But this time, it held no fear. Only greater doubt.
Ifrin whipped her head around to face him.
Inky black eyes, a mage in tattered robes—Murkan.
“Hey!”
“……”
Murkan's pupils dilated for a split second before settling. Had he grasped this situation?
“What the hell is going on?!”
“……”
Murkan said nothing. Growing impatient, Ifrin stood on tiptoes and seized his collar.
“I'm in deep shit right now. Forget the paper—”
“A bomb exploded?”
“Yeah.”
Ifrin answered without hesitation. She had no idea what the bomb was, but something had detonated, leaving her in this mess.
“It appears we are already looping.”
“……”
Murkan nodded and drew something from his bosom.
“……A pocket watch?”
“My nephew made it.”
“……”
A clock carved from wood. Murkan handed it to Ifrin. She released his collar and accepted it.
“He entrusted it to me, saying: when the time comes, deliver this to the Child of Time.”
A lad who'd never once asked a favor of me in his life.
Murkan murmured wistfully, then regarded Ifrin again.
Ifrin averted her gaze and muttered.
“……What's the Child of Time?”
“You were born the day a meteor fell.”
“Huh? How'd you know?”
“Your fate is entwined with time. Your physiognomy, your mana, your very name—all of it.”
“……”
Murkan's words lacked evidence. They weren't scientific. Were it not for his name, he'd be the perfect con man.
But because he was Murkan, every flaw resolved into the word “magical.”
“Then what's the bomb?”
“My nephew called it the Altar's declaration of war. They intended to bomb the Emperor first and eliminate him—but it seems providence went awry somewhere.”
“Ah!”
Ifrin nodded and grabbed Murkan's hand instead of his collar.
“Help me out!”
“I do not meddle in mortal affairs. I have already sworn as much.”
“What?! You've already meddled!”
“I merely relayed my nephew's request.”
Murkan slipped his hand free. Ifrin staggered back.
“The answer is yours to find. There is still ample time.”
With those words, Murkan vanished in an instant.
Just like two months prior.
—Huh? The barrier's gone!
Voices rang through the orientation hall.
Sighs of relief rose in unison.
“……”
Ifrin blinked vacantly until Deculein descended from the podium, snapping her back to reality.
Deculein himself wore a puzzled expression at the barrier's abrupt dissolution.
Yet Ifrin did not approach him. This time, she simply stood still.
“Ifrin.”
Unlike two months ago, Deculein drew near first.
“Did you meet someone?”
Ifrin made no reply.
“……'Tis strange.”
Meanwhile, Sophien frowned out the window. The clear blue sky endured, yet somehow felt emptied.
Not merely the world, but within her own body as well.
“Are you well, Your Majesty?”
Ahan inquired. Sophien shook her head.
“'Tis naught……. However, Ahan.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Shall we wager?”
She scattered files on knights across the desk.
“Which among these shall first fulfill my charge.”
“……I know not the knights' tasks, however.”
“This one—Sanak Jeilun.”
Sophien tapped Jeilun's file.
“To him, I commanded the capture of a basilisk.”
“……!”
Ahan's eyes flew wide.
The basilisk—one of the rare beasts comparable to a great tiger. Yet as a territorial creature, a direct clash proved even deadlier than a tiger.
“To this one, the Regedal flower that blooms solely in Mieolji. And to this one……”
Sophien recited her monumental tasks. Each a feat worthy of legend.
“Finally, Julie. To this knight.”
A smile curled Sophien's lips.
“I bade her uncover the mastermind behind my poisoning.”
“……”
Ahan's jaw dropped.
“Pois—”
“Indeed. Of course, I have some inkling of the culprit myself.”
Family intrigues, power struggles—all pieced together with effort would yield an easy deduction. But Sophien found it tedious.
She refused to squander herself on such distant trifles.
“If you know, ought you not punish them at once?”
Sophien merely smiled at Ahan's question. She turned silently to the lake beyond the window.
“……Having reviewed today's affairs, I shall go fishing.”
With that, she rose, fishing rod from Deculein in hand.
……Late night, as the capital slumbered.
I handled mana alone in the underground crystal cavern. Training to wield Telekinesis with utmost precision—but far grueling than anticipated, twice over.
A process burdensome even for me, with superhuman patience, endurance, and mental fortitude. My fists clenched of their own accord, teeth ground in extremity.
“……Such wretched vermin.”
A curse escaped unwittingly—the infamous “moving grains of sand.”
“……”
Separating a sack's worth of sand one grain at a time, without shattering any.
Should two grains be lifted together, or one crumble en route—back to the start.
937th attempt this night.
“Still……”
Not poor. The agony itself proved the training's efficacy.
I smoothed my disheveled hair. Dispelled the sweat drenching my body with Cleanse.
Then, moved the sand.
Srrrrk—
The sack's contents parted as the finest grain wafted upward. I deposited it in another sack, then the second grain. The third…… Hundreds of repetitions later.
Crunch—
One grain crumbled.
“……”
I stared, then lifted my gaze. Drew a deep breath and closed my eyes.
Chirp—chirp chirp—
Morning birdsong filtered from beyond the cavern. I upended the sack onto the floor.
A routine exploiting my nature. Deculein would never abide such disorder; whatever arose, I would return here and recommence.
“……However.”
Emerging, an uncanny dissonance struck me. Precisely, déjà vu.
“Have I……”
Felt this before.
From the garden, I glanced back at the cavern mouth.
Chirp chirp—chirp chirp chirp—
Two-syllable, three-syllable calls. Dawn's light piercing the depths.
Déjà vu.
“Master.”
Roy approached then.
“Ms. Ifrin has not returned tonight.”
“Any word?”
“Yes. Said she had business and borrowed a car for the tower.”
“That girl drives too?”
“Yes. No clue when she learned.”
I chuckled and shook my head.
“We'll cross paths at the tower regardless. Prepare.”
“No car prepared.”
“……”
I belatedly grasped why Roy mentioned it.
True enough—in a world prizing vehicles, no mere servant's auto existed.
“……Then a horse will suffice.”
“Yes. I'll procure another for contingencies.”
I nodded.
Ifrin circled the capital by car, scouring every conceivable bomb site like a rat hunt.
Yet nothing anywhere.
“Hmm……”
Her last resort: Professor Ruina's office. Ifrin spilled every detail.
“……You won't believe it.”
Ruina gave a wry smile.
“Hard to swallow. So you're saying you looped back from April 9th to now?”
“Yeah.”
“Plausible enough, though. If Murkan's right and your origin is time.”
Time as origin.
Ifrin couldn't confirm it. Ordinary mages lacked origins to begin with; she'd never even conceived of time as one.
“Let's think, then. Their aim? Why plant a bomb?”
“Murkan said it was to kill Her Majesty.”
“Searched the palace underground?”
“……Nah. Asked, but it's been sealed forever. No entry.”
Ruina beamed.
“You did well searching meanwhile?”
“Yeah……”
“But why not ask your master?”
Deculein. Ifrin flinched at the name.
“Ah, well……”
“Think he won't buy it?”
“……Yeah. Honestly.”
Time travel, regression—would Deculein believe? That worry lingered, alongside others.
“But…… they might've targeted the professor too.”
“Professor Deculein?”
“Yeah. Exploded on his ex-fiancée's memorial day.”
“April 9th.”
“……You knew?”
“Course. Classmates.”
Ruina smiled. Ifrin nodded, exhaling in relief.
Coming to Ruina had been right.
“Still, keep a low profile. If it's truly the Altar's scheme, you're at risk. And…… oh, professor's here.”
Ruina pointed out the tower window. Ifrin peered down.
“……Huh, on horseback today.”
Deculein astride a black steed. Every gaze in the yard fixed on his stern figure; Ifrin cocked her head.
“Your car joyride forced the horse?”
“……Oh yeah!”
Ifrin's eyes widened.
“Then I'm out!”
She snatched her library materials and bolted downstairs……
……Five minutes later.
Ifrin agonized, stealing glances at Deculein in the office chair. Speak? Or not?
He, as ever, wielded his fountain pen through reports. Utterly composed, exuding an impenetrable aura.
“If you have words, speak them.”
Deculein, patience spent on her stares.
“……Huh? Ah, that is……”
Ifrin dawdled. Five minutes more passed; as Deculein set down his pen, she steeled herself.
Better tell the professor.
She shot up, aiming to sit opposite—
─────.
A vague dissonance crept into Ifrin's mind.
Simultaneously, Deculein's crystal orb chimed. Ifrin's trembled too.
Nay—at that instant, crystal orbs across the world likely wailed in unison.
“……”
Soon, upon receiving the 'message,' Deculein's face—and Ifrin's—hardened gravely.
The message read thus:
An assassin has infiltrated the Imperial Palace and assaulted Her Majesty Sophien.