The Professor in the Mirror
Clang—! Creeeang—!
In the midst of the resounding clash of steel blades, Sophien walks down the corridor. She gazes at the back of the man leading her unhesitatingly through the old mansion.
As emperor, this might be the first time she has stared at someone's back for so long.
"...The professor in the mirror, you say."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Sophien rewinds her memories.
The endless years of suffering from poison, dying infinitely. The professor who shared all that time through the Devil's Mirror, and ultimately met his end alongside her.
"You mean the timelines have diverged."
"I cannot say for certain. However, I am less a soul and more a memory, a mind."
Deculein spoke. He was still impeccably composed, his tone resolute yet courteous.
"My mental strength, which postponed death, lingered in the afterlife and even withstood Your Majesty's regressions. It was not my desire, but perhaps it is thanks to Your Majesty's wish that I remain here."
"Wish...? Then, where is Deculein now."
Sophien asked. Deculein replied softly.
"Likely conversing with the ghosts of the underworld. Among the spirits of this mansion, there are still some with clear and pure minds, worthy of respect. Like Igiris."
"...Could it be. Was it you who signed the manifesto as Deculein?"
"Yes."
Deculein's signature on the manifesto.
He must have recognized it upon seeing it. The existence of another self.
"Your Majesty, remain here only until sunrise."
He guided the emperor to somewhere. It was a cramped room fit for lowly palace gardeners.
"This place is the boundary between the afterlife and the living world. A tiny rift I observed with my naked eyes. When the sun rises, exit through this door. A solar eclipse approaches soon. You must leave before then."
He pointed to a small back door in the corner. Sophien looked at him and asked again.
"And you."
"......"
"What will you do."
Deculein said nothing. He merely faced the emperor in the form of a memory.
"I have many stories I wished to share with you."
Sophien said to him.
The professor in the mirror, who shared all her deaths and departed at the moment she overcame them.
"Like a friend from my imagination, a man who lingered long in my memories."
Her voice softened. Deculein remained the impassive face of a loyal retainer.
"Do you know."
In truth, when Sophien read the palace records. When she learned of this mansion's existence.
The first thought that arose was of this professor.
Perhaps some trace of him lingered in this underworld. No, she had hoped it so.
"I have more memories with you than without."
The hundred-odd years of repeated poisonings. The few years as his student in magic.
To Deculein, those two eras were unconnected, but to Sophien, they existed as one.
They remained precious even in her tedious daily life, in her perpetually idle mind.
"The current Deculein remembers none of those days."
Sophien had pretended otherwise. She had feigned indifference, burying herself in ennui.
Yet her heart ached all the same.
"It was quite dog-like of me."
"Your Majesty."
Deculein called to her. Sophien looked up at him silently.
"I am Deculein, and Deculein is I. He will remember soon enough. But why, Your Majesty, have you prepared this ritual in such a place."
"...Tch."
Sophien's brow furrowed sharply. His words grated on her ears, twisted misconstrued.
"Even in that state, you worry for Julie."
"...No."
Deculein shook his head calmly.
There was no smile on his face now. It was the same demeanor he had toward his dying self. Courteous to the point of formality, always serene in speech.
"I worry for Your Majesty."
"......"
Wrinkle lines etched into Sophien's eyes.
"Just as I hold all of Your Majesty's memories intact, you alone hold all of mine intact."
"...What did you say?"
A strange itch tickled her heart. Her soft heart squirmed.
Sophien scratched at her collarbone unwittingly, and Deculein added one more word.
"Your Majesty is precious. To me, the professor in the mirror; to me, living in the world; to this world itself. Perhaps that is why I remain here......"
"...Enough, Professor. I'll yield."
The empress dowager said to me. The blood-soaked space had restored to normalcy, her killing intent dissipated.
She smiled bitterly and sipped her tea.
"You hold utmost respect and courtesy for the imperial bloodline. I refuse to be an ugly imperial even in death. If you wish to serve Sophi, I have no choice but to allow it."
An innate reverence for the imperial family. A mindset revering those at the pinnacle of the hierarchy resides in me.
"But remember what I said. Sophi will surely become a calamity. You may regret it one day."
Her words settled in my mind like puzzle pieces.
The distant past reason why the Phairdens attempted to poison Sophien. Their motive, unrecorded even in the scenario—I now think I understand.
"And one more awaits you."
"Dikailen?"
"No."
The empress dowager shook her head.
"Igiris. He has much to say to you."
Igiris von Krail Phairden.
Former head of the Phairden family, father to Julie, Zeit, and Yuseffin.
A tiger father who sired three prodigies.
"He asks for nothing more from you. He has watched over you here for so long."
Creeeak—
The door behind me opened.
I turned that way.
"Then, speak with him alone. My time has come. Farewell, Professor. Take care of that monster Sophi."
The empress dowager scattered like mist, and 'Igiris,' who approached without footsteps, stared at me.
He gazed silently for a long while, then extended his hand wordlessly.
...Seeking a handshake.
Kaboooom—!
In the mansion's plaza, the sudden battle rages fiercely.
Thud—! Clang—!
Altar blades clash violently with knights' swords. Whirling mana and sparking sword auras.
Shards of shattered blades scar the plaza, Adrienne's focused destruction magic pulverizes Altar flesh, bits of gore and organs scatter everywhere—yet the battlefield is profoundly eerie.
Screeech—!
Even decapitated, bisected at the waist, or shredded entirely by destruction magic, they do not die.
Not just the enemy, but allies too.
"What in the—"
An Altar soldier charges, clutching his severed head in his grip. A hulking monster wields its own cleaved face like a bludgeon.
As Julie recoils in horror at the mad sight—
—This twilight mansion is akin to the underworld. The living who die here move as the dead until their flesh rots to dust.
A voice explains the phenomenon. Low, resonant, profound—Julie widens her eyes.
A familiar timbre.
She whipped around hurriedly.
—Endure until sunrise. I will aid you.
A ghostly form flickers in the air whence the voice emanates.
She knows that hazy, faint silhouette.
Still remembers.
"Patriarch?"
—...Yes.
Igiris.
Former head of Phairden, the father she dared not call father even at his deathbed.
"Ah......"
Her sword hand trembles.
Pain stabs her chest like a blade; breath catches briefly.
"How are you here—"
"Julie. Stand back."
Steel intervenes as she approaches her father slowly—from somewhere.
"...Do not approach further."
Deculein.
He glares alternately at Julie and Igiris, unleashing Frost Stone. Frozen metal fences between ghost and human like a barrier.
—Professor. Still cannot yield?
Igiris spoke with a sigh. Deculein growled through gritted teeth.
"Lord Igiris. You are the same. Approach Julie further, and I will kill you."
—How? How will you kill one already dead?
A mocking query.
At that instant, mana gathers in Deculein's grasp. A brilliant glow illuminates the darkness.
Artificial Sun.
"Igiris. You are a lingering spirit that burns to ash in sunlight. Refrain from overstepping."
—......
As Igiris falls silent, Julie now restrains him.
"Cease, Professor Deculein."
She shook her sword lightly. Hiss—emitted cold froze the artificial sun.
"...Julie."
Deculein furrowed his brow. Glaring disdainfully, he jerked his chin.
"Step aside. This is for your sake."
"Ha."
A involuntary scoff escaped her.
Absurdity bowed her head. In a trembling voice, she asked again.
"How many lives have you taken under the guise of 'for my sake'."
"......"
"How many innocent lives......"
Anger clouded Julie's breath.
Deculein did not answer. Nor spare her a glance. He addressed Igiris alone.
"Lord Igiris. Cease."
—I already said. I cannot grant your request.
"...Foolish."
Deculein glared at Igiris's soul. Fury in his eyes—Julie asked puzzled.
"What conversation did you two have."
"......"
Deculein said nothing; Igiris sighed helplessly.
—Very well, Professor. Then... Julie.
Igiris regarded Julie again. To her eyes, bodiless, he seemed mere smoke—but his gaze felt distinct.
—I grant you a choice.
"...A choice?"
—Julie. If you truly hate Professor Deculein enough to kill him. If your loathing is that deep.
Igiris turned to Deculein. Thud, he stepped forward.
—Come find me.
"Final warning."
Igiris's voice overlapped Deculein's words.
—If not, go to the professor instead of me.
Whoooosh......
A chill wind sweeps in. Igiris's soul scatters with it, vanishing somewhere—and Julie spots his trace on her map.
A mark at some location.
If she hates the professor, go there.
"Julie."
Deculein's voice suddenly seeped into her ear as she pondered.
"......"
Julie's eyes slowly widened as she looked up at him unwittingly.
Deculein facing her. Sorrow dwelled in his eyes now. An inexplicable emotion rippled.
"Do not go."
A serene timbre spread.
His voice truly grieved—Julie shook her head.
"Do not show such a face. You suit standing tall like an ancient tree."
"If you go to Igiris, you will die."
"......"
Words of her own death. Julie gazed at the map in her hand.
Of course, Deculein is a vile villain.
At least to Julie.
Yet......
His words now rang true, somehow.
"Professor."
Perhaps Julie knew.
That Igiris did not love her.
Never once had.
"One question."
Even so.
Julie tucked the map away.
"Do I seem truly alive to you now."
"......"
Heavy silence descended. Deculein regarded her wordlessly.
"No."
Julie clenched her teeth. Hot breath escaped her gritted seam.
"From the moment you betrayed me—no, even longer before. I was already dead."
"......"
A sigh escaped Deculein. He bowed his head slowly, then lifted it.
"...Julie. Even if you are so dead."
Julie.
The knight who lost her dreams to Deculein, her heart wounded. Smeared in his love and obsession, dying yet reviving.
"I wish you alive."
To those words, Julie made no reply. She turned, thrusting her sword behind.
Krunch—!
A blade laden with glacial mana. The Altar grunt pierced through the heart froze solid, and she plunged back into battle.
A rejection utterly Julie-like.
Meanwhile, the Altar forces infiltrating the mansion first secure the main gate, patrolling the perimeter. They send scouts ahead, detain nobles or retainers fleeing outward, killing if necessary—slowly tightening the noose.
"Hey, Syrio."
"Aigoo! Let me go! Let go! Save me!"
"What to do with this one."
Then, a hulking knight presented a child clutched like a rotisserie chicken. One of the empire's top powerhouses, but Altar-converted—Jeilun.
"This brat claims to be an adventurer."
"Let go! Let go! Whyyy!"
Lia. She dangled limply from Jeilun's grip, pleading release.
"Adventurer? Why's an adventurer here... Huh? Wait."
Syrio's eyes rounded upon seeing her.
"You, aren't you Lia?"
"...Huh? You know me?"
Lia, thrashing, asked back in surprise.
"Yeah, we met before~ Hey, let her go. She's helped our folks with this and that."
Various side quests cleared for rewards. Of course, not direct Altar aid, but aiding destitute villages there—Lia had such records.
"...That kind? Fine. You're free. Good kid."
Thus spared, Lia sighed in relief the moment her feet touched ground.
Altar's goal wasn't empire genocide anyway. Once their 'god' manifests, the rest matters not.
...Though the god's will might differ.
"But why come here? Attacking the palace suddenly... Doesn't make sense. Super dangerous. How'd you punch through all those troops?"
Well-versed in Altar's unexpectedly tolerant setting, Lia had let herself get caught deliberately. To probe this abrupt situation's intent.
"Hmph. Those filthy empire dogs destroyed our temples first."
Jeilun gnashed his teeth.
Temple destruction. Lia pondered, then nodded.
She recalled such an event.
There was a trigger: 'Destroy X temples, Altar invades directly—'.
Still, storming the palace abruptly... Overkill.
"We were attacked first! This is retaliation. So......"
Then.
Aaaaagh—!
A scream and sprinting footsteps echoed from somewhere.
Aaaaagh—!
The central mansion corridor. A mad woman dashing side to side there.
Aaaaagh—!
"......"
"......"
Aaaaagh—!
Altar eyes tracked her frantic flight.
Aaaaagh—!
Lia and Altar alike watched idly, intrigued.
"Wait. That's Ifrin."
Syrio startled, spoke. Jeilun raised a brow.
"Ifrin? Oh, that time mage. Tough luck. About to get ghosted."
Over thirty ghosts pursued Ifrin.
Her end: body snatched or limbs torn—one or the other.
"You don't know? What happens if she dies."
But Syrio prodded Jeilun gravely.
"What happens... Ah."
"......"
Jeilun realized late, groaned in dismay. Other Altar soldiers too.
Syrio preheated mana.
"What're you waiting for. Save her quick."
Now, Sophien's Authority—incomplete but—had transferred to Ifrin.
If Ifrin dies in that state?
By Authority's nature, it seeks its master, returning to Sophien.
All efforts to draw out Sophien's Authority—down the drain.
Jeilun drew his sword, bellowed.
"Damn it all. Move! Help her! She dies, you die by my hand!"
Altar soldiers rushed to Ifrin.
Aaaaagh—! Aaaaagh—!
Her loud shrieks made locating easy.
"Save m......?"
Thud—!
VVIP-escorted, the Altar group arrived.
"...Huh?"
Ifrin blinked blankly, surrounded. Jeilun and Syrio grinned.
"Hey. Stay put. We'll save ya."
"Yeah. Long time~ Deculein's disciple. You die, big trouble. Stick behind us~?"
"...Ifrin! Where've you been!"
Lia within darted, hugging Ifrin.
"Eh, Lia? Lia, what's this? No, what's all this?"
Ifrin, still baffled, watched Altar shield her from ghosts.