Hadekan. (2)
······Returning to the lord's residence, Yeriel pulled out her childhood diary.
An old drawer, dusty memories from long ago wrapped in grime.
—Today, I didn't get scolded at breakfast. Maybe that's why big brother even spoke to me. I felt good all day.
—I dropped my knife during dinner. Big brother looked at me with pitiful eyes. It was my fault, so I felt sad. From now on, even without him scolding me, I have to do better on my own.
—I'll do well from tomorrow what I couldn't do yesterday. I'll work hard.
—Big brother hates crying, but I shouldn't cry, yet I did. Why can't I hold back tears······.
"······What a moron."
Unable to read any further, she slammed the diary shut.
Why had she been so weak back then? What on earth had made her act like such a fool?
Sighing, Yeriel glanced at the gloves tucked in the corner of her desk. A luxury gift from Deculein, or so he claimed.
"Gift my ass."
She muttered a curse.
The past self who craved his love was now a faded memory. The child whose world shook at his every word was long dead.
All of it was just pain she wanted to forget.
"If you're not gonna gut me, you moron."
Gripping the gloves, Yeriel nearly hurled them away.
"······Fuck."
But her arm wouldn't move.
It was the first time.
She'd never even gotten a birthday wish, let alone a gift like this.
Of course, to him it was probably just words······.
Yeriel shoved the gloves into the drawer.
"I just won't wear them anyway."
She muttered, nodding to herself.
9 PM.
Behind the hotel [Hadekan Romance], a crowd gathered in the woods. It was the first night of the 2-night, 3-day MT—fireworks viewing.
Boom—!
Cheers erupted as glittering magical streaks shot into the sky.
Bang—boom—bababang—!
The magic exploded mid-air, adorning the night canopy in splendor.
Whoaaa······.
So pretty······.
A dark yet bright night.
Pure exclamations filled the air. Among the fireworks crowd were the three kids from the island nation—Karos, Leo, and Julia.
"As expected of Sylvia. Flawless, no flaws whatsoever."
The magic department professors scored each team's fireworks. Sylvia's team earned perfect scores from all seven.
"Ifrin. Ready?"
"Yeah."
Last up was Ifrin's team. They'd brought pre-engraved fireworks. Team leader Ifrin shouted grandly.
"Ours combines destruction magic and harmony magic—"
"Just launch it."
"······Yes, sir."
The professors seemed bored. Crestfallen, Ifrin gathered mana into her bracelet.
A surge of mana seeped into the fireworks pile, then shot straight up.
Whiiiiiing—!
With a thunderous roar, the magic reached the sky and burst.
Baaaaang—!
As Ifrin described, destruction and harmony wove an aurora-like curtain—beautiful enough to rival Sylvia's.
But the professors weren't impressed.
"Pretty, but too loud. Hurts my ears. 6 points."
Destruction department's Professor Shiare gave 6.
"4 points."
Spirit department's Retran gave 4.
"What?! Why?!"
No explanation, so Julia gaped. The professors just glared. Pouting, she backed off.
"It's fine."
Ifrin comforted her.
She'd half-expected it. The professors hated the commoner club "Plain Magic Exploration" anyway.
······But then.
"10 points. Perfect balance of destruction and harmony magic."
A sudden perfect score.
Deep baritone, no fluff in the critique.
······Deculein.
Startled, Julia blurted,
"Huh?! 10 points?!"
Deculein nodded, and the professors started glancing around. Next up, Rellin praised and gave 10; the rest followed suit.
Only Shiare and Retran, who'd scored 6 and 4, sweated bullets. They mistook it for Deculein's "new passive-aggressive bullshit."
"Magic fireworks contest results! 1st: Sylvia's team with 70. 2nd: Julia's team with 60. 3rd: Beck's team with 58······."
Thanks to that, Ifrin's team took 2nd. Members grinned, but Ifrin eyed Deculein with mixed feelings.
"······."
He walked off without glancing at anyone.
Unnoble gossip from noble mages.
Ifrin fumed but said nothing.
"Ifrin, look! 2nd place prize!"
Right on cue, Julia brought whiskey.
Ifrin snatched the bottle, popped the cap, and chugged.
"Gah! Ifrin, what?!"
"Hold up. Gotta go somewhere."
Handing it back, Ifrin bolted. Full sprint. She remembered his direction.
Questions she'd held back forever burned inside. Things she desperately wanted to know.
Today was just the trigger.
"Haa, haa, haa······."
······After about 30 minutes.
Ifrin found Deculein on a bench by a dim roadside. A horse stood beside him.
Gulp— she swallowed.
He ignored her, but she hesitantly approached and sat opposite.
"······Professor."
No reply. Ifrin pressed on.
"I know it's rude, but about the academic conference..."
Only then did Deculein tilt his head slightly.
"Drent, you mean."
"Yes."
She'd felt unease there.
Drent's "Protective Flame Orb" and its ritual. Doubts growing daily.
"The content of that paper······."
"Similar to your assignment. No—nearly identical. And you've only just realized?"
He muttered pityingly.
"Uh······."
Ifrin gaped blankly.
She hadn't expected such blunt confirmation, but deep down, she'd known.
Her face fell, eyes dropping.
"······."
Ignorant nobles call it favoritism, affection.
Is this favoritism?
If so, why?
Why the hell?
"······Why."
Ifrin stared at roadside pebbles.
Wind from the west rustled her robe. Haha—mage laughter nearby.
"The discipline, the club, this paper······."
······One thing.
The key question she'd never asked.
"Is it my father? That guilt?"
Ifrin mustered courage, chin up defiantly.
Deculein.
The most hated professor stared back.
Those blue eyes alone made her tremble······.
"Figure it out yourself."
"······."
"Don't whine. You're not a child."
He cut coldly, rising.
Tension snapped. Strength drained.
But rage filled the void.
Ifrin clenched her fists.
"······I'll do that anyway!"
Her shout turned him.
She met his gaze. Inner fire unquenched.
"I'll apply. Under you."
"······."
"There, I'll uncover it! Why my father killed himself, why he had to!"
Deculein just watched. Expression unchanged.
"You once called me jade."
Words she might regret.
Maybe childish outburst.
"Jade, so don't waste your talent."
Eyes wide with tears, lips quivering.
"So I'll surpass you. Right where you can see, greater than youuuu—!"
Spilling pent-up emotions, Ifrin panted. Wiping unnoticed tears on her robe.
"······."
Encroaching night air cooled her.
Under starlit sky, Deculein stood silent. His quiet terrified her. Realization hit late.
But he······.
"Good resolve."
Didn't break her will.
No scorn, no dismissal.
"Challenge endlessly."
Respectful, merely thus.
"Whatever the end, it'll be your laurel."
He mounted.
Ifrin stared at his back. The red horse soon vanished.
"······Yeah."
She nodded with hollow laugh.
As you say, I'll challenge forever.
So you—stay lofty. Higher than now.
At the peak none can climb, fall only to me.
Until then, I······.
"Ow!"
Dull pain in her shoulder blade.
Rubbing, she saw a stone on the ground.
"What the······."
A hawk in nearby tree glared.
Did it throw? Absurd, yet true. Stone in talons flew.
The hawk threw it.
"What're you—ow, stop throwing—ow, that bird—"
I arrived at the Crevasse Gorge entrance. The red horse's speed made it an hour's ride.
"No mask fits you, so that's it for today. Return to the stable. Come back at noon."
I sent the red horse off. Unsure if it'd obey, but its whinny showed no fatigue.
"······Death flag?"
Standing still, I recalled the incident.
Ifrin's declaration wasn't a death flag. But startling.
Her joining my lab?
Not bad. But is it a throat dagger or waist sword? Unclear.
Too sudden, and I still don't know exactly what Deculein did to her father.
Maybe death-worthy sin, or just scoldable.
I want to know, but can't yet······.
[Independent Quest: Resonance]
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Then the system popped up.
Far off, Charlotte's group approached, dust-covered, sighing in relief at me.
"······?"
But only Mahor, Charlotte, Ron. No "Geder."
"Just the three of you."
I asked Charlotte. No answer.
Geder died en route?
Pity.
Mahor peeked from behind Charlotte.
"Hi~ Professor Deculein. That's you, right? The kind soul helping us. I told Charlotte sir all about······."
She beamed, chattering instantly. I liked her—face as designed, personality game-true.
"Yes. Pleased to meet you. I am Deculein von Grahan Yukline, chief professor of the Imperial University Tower."
"Whoa, chief professor? Amazing! How masterful with magic······."
I smiled back, eyeing Charlotte. Her face soured.
"Take this. Note from the adventuring party."
Charlotte handed paper.
[Roughly 37 assassins and 'Dianant' are pursuing you.]
Dianant. The word furrowed my brow. Instinctive revulsion.
"Has the Leok royal family fallen this far."
"······Indeed."
Dianant: half-ghost, half-demon hybrid.
Human-like appearance, intelligence, speech—but devil inside.
Worse than demons: product of contracts.
Ashes Heap black mages' "Demon Summon" spells.
Needs intact limbs and demon horns—hard to kill physically or magically.
"······You'll be fine?"
Charlotte asked.
"Of course."
Odds overflow for me.
Entering Crevasse upgrades my mana quality to [4th Grade], recovery outpaces consumption, all magic amplified.
And against demon-kin Dianant, I can shred thoroughly.
"Princess Mahor."
"Yes? Y-Yes?!"
I set my briefcase down. It opened; fifteen steel rods floated.
Mahor gaped.
"These will guard you from now."
"Whoa."
Charlotte muttered, "'Perfect guard magic—' " pulling out mine masks.
"Need one? Got four."
"No."
I shook my head.
The group entered Crevasse Gorge.
The entrance was ordinary mountain path—narrow, rugged, nothing more.
"Professor Deculein seems really kind."
"Me?"
But Charlotte was surprised by his unexpected demeanor over the peace.
"Totally~ Other empire nobles hated me. Always ignoring, snubbing······ Made me sad, but you're different."
"Ignore such fools."
He treated Mahor with utmost courtesy. Polite words, elegant actions.
"The baser sort belittle others to elevate themselves."
"Huh? Am I base?"
"No. The empire's half-baked nobles. You, Princess Mahor, are noble indeed—not just by blood. You possess fitting qualities."
"Whoa······ First time hearing that······."
Uneasy, Charlotte cut in.
"Hey. Enough."
Gonna flirt.
"······."
Deculein nodded silently, walking.
His steps guiding the gorge were sure—no hesitation, like he'd been often.
Deeper in, woods tinged purple.
Air stung, but mine masks eased breathing. Yet Deculein stayed barefaced.
That rumored "Demon-Exorcist Yukline"?
"—!"
A monkey lunged. Ron swung, but circling blades pierced first.
Kereluk—!
Deculein's eerie steel.
"Whoa!"
Mahor gasped. He stared ahead.
"Perimeter secured. No worries. Four hours to Yuren border."
Charlotte bit her lip.
"Too long."
"No choice. Running risks demonic poisoning."
"Dianant pursuit?"
"No concern. I'll kill them."
"······You?"
"Yes."
She shook her head. If it came, she'd sacrifice herself.
"No. I'll—"
"Shut it."
"······What?"
His voice shifted instantly.
Flutflutter—!
Bats swarmed—hundreds. But his steel danced gracefully, skewering all.
Whirling steel.
Bats died without entering the zone.
"Amazing! What magic? Professor, me too—"
Mahor gushed at his back. He replied lowly.
"Princess."
"Yes?!"
"Shut that mouth awhile."
"Ah, yes."
Startled, Mahor mimed zipping lips. Then mouthed silently: Mouth shut~ Good girl~
Whii—
"······?!"
Whistle nearby. Charlotte gripped sword. Demonic aura stabbed their backs.
Deculein halted. She looked.
"······Hey."
His blue eyes glowed phosphorescent. Face twisted, barely containing fury.
Charlotte flinched.
Whiii—whiii—
Whistle neared.
Tat-tat-tat······.
Light footsteps on ground.
Shaaa······.
Branches rustled artificially.
Charlotte shielded Mahor with aura.
"I warned you."
Deculein cautioned calmly.
"Approach, and limbs disassemble."
The foes didn't retreat. Mocking, they revealed numbers—then.
———!
Steel tore air. "Telekinesis" whipped dozens of times per second—beyond human perception.
Bombardment razed the area.
Speed's shockwave flipped gorge, shredded brush, flung debris.
······Debris meaning blood, flesh, organs lumped.