Mask. (1)
‘Pig’s Flower’, a famous restaurant near the Imperial University.
“I’m gonna kill ‘em!”
Sylvia watched Ifrin as she yelled that, tearing into her roahawk with gusto. The sight was pretty amusing.
“I’ll definitely track ‘em down and kill ‘em!”
Ifrin’s paper had been torn clean in half, killing her chances. The culprit was still unknown. Probably would stay that way forever. There had been too many people around.
“Stupid Ifrin.”
Ifrin whipped her head around and glared. Her venomous eyes brimmed with wronged tears.
“Even if you find out who did it, there’s nothing you can do. Torn paper doesn’t come back together.”
“...Did you come here just to mock me?”
Sylvia smirked and pulled out her own paper. Ifrin’s face immediately twisted with envy.
Bzzz—Sylvia’s barrier enveloped the table and their seats.
“Assistant Professor Allen didn’t tell us the exam location or time. But he did say not to lose this paper.”
“...Found out anything?”
“No. Not yet.”
What this paper had to do with everything they’d learned so far.
It was a complete mystery, but Sylvia trusted Deculein and his teachings.
“Then... you don’t know either...”
Ifrin hesitated, gauging Sylvia’s mood before mumbling.
“Wanna team up? Like, together? We did that group project before, remember?”
“Stupid Ifrin.”
“Why noooot~? I’ll help. I’m second place, y’know. Right after you.”
Ifrin set down her roahawk. She was that desperate, but Sylvia just shook her head.
“You don’t have a paper. I do.”
“...Who doesn’t know that.”
“There’ll probably be more attacks like this. We’ve still got three weeks till the exam.”
“Haa... I wanna cry.”
Ifrin sniffled dramatically and pulled a handkerchief from her inner pocket. She dabbed at her eyes, playing pitiful, but Sylvia’s gaze locked onto the handkerchief.
“...”
Handkerchief.
Sylvia recalled the one decorating the back of her own bear-panda doll.
The pattern on the handkerchief Deculein had given her.
It matched Ifrin’s exactly.
“You.”
Her body moved before her head could catch up. Sylvia shot out her hand and grabbed Ifrin’s wrist. Ifrin flinched.
“W-Why?”
“Where’d you get that.”
“Wh-What? This handkerchief?”
“Yes.”
“...It’s a secret.”
Ifrin shook her head firmly, but Sylvia was surprisingly persistent.
“Tell me.”
“Why should I?”
Ifrin furrowed her brow. Why’s she suddenly care about this? Was it because the handkerchief looked so fancy?
Gasp, maybe it was some luxury treasure even the Ilaydes couldn’t easily get?
“Tell me, and maybe we’ll team up.”
“...”
“I could even buy you roahawk. For the whole exam period.”
Now that was worth considering seriously.
It wasn’t like her sponsor’s identity was at stake. Just saying she had a sponsor wasn’t betrayal.
It wasn’t just for the roahawk, absolutely not. She wasn’t some kid swayed by food. Plus, good grades meant she could face her sponsor properly...
Ifrin glanced at Sylvia.
“It’s not stolen. Believe me?”
“If it’s not stolen.”
Ifrin chewed her lip before answering curtly.
“...A gift from my sponsor.”
“Sponsor.”
Sylvia’s eyebrow twitched. Her hidden fist clenched under the table.
“Yeah. I got one too. Didn’t expect it.”
“You got a sponsor?”
“Yeeah~ I didn’t think I would either. Can’t dig deeper though. Anonymous sponsor and all... But wait, have you seen this handkerchief before? Why ask all of a sudden?”
Ifrin’s eyes widened in confusion, while Sylvia’s narrowed curtly.
“No. It just doesn’t suit you.”
“...Jeez. Anyway, I told you, so we’re teaming up, right?”
“...”
Sylvia silently sliced her meat. Ifrin peered closely at her face.
That expression was always ambiguous. No clue what she was thinking, and Ifrin had never seen her smile.
At first, that mask-like stiffness had been off-putting...
“I’ll take that silence as a yes~?”
But now it wasn’t so bad.
As Ifrin chirped playfully, Sylvia glared in disdain and popped a piece of meat into her mouth. Her jaw clenched fiercely as she chewed.
Meanwhile, Julie sipped coffee at a café near the tower.
From now until midnight, Deculein was reviewing papers in his lab.
A brief respite.
No one, no matter how bold, would dare kidnap someone from the tower, and she couldn’t interrupt the professor’s private research anyway.
“...Time flies.”
Gazing out at the campus, old memories welled up like clouds.
A short walk led to the knight department’s training hall, then the knight squad plaza, and further still to the grand Imperial Knights headquarters.
“...”
The Imperial Knights—dream of every knight on the continent.
Julie had served there once, but now it was just the past. No going back, no turning back.
“Julie!”
Someone called her name. Julie turned wide-eyed.
“There you are.”
At the café entrance stood knights Gwen, Rafel, and Syrio—fellows from palace training. They approached smiling, hands extended.
Julie said, “Here for the knight exam observation?”
“Huh? Oh~ sorta.”
The encounter pleased Julie, but Gwen scratched her neck apologetically.
“Anyway, no need for chit-chat. Take this.”
Gwen handed over a letter stamped with the imperial seal. Julie’s eyes widened.
“Ah! The mission from last time!”
“Yeah. But... you’re on another mission now, right...?”
“It’s fine. This one’s with Professor Deculein too.”
Gwen’s face grew more troubled at Julie’s words.
Thrilled like a child over joining an important mission—Julie was a true knight, but...
“...Read it.”
“Yes, sir!”
Julie tore open the seal eagerly.
Her swelling anticipation deflated instantly at the first line.
[Nondisclosure Agreement]
“Nondisclosure...?”
Julie stared blankly at Gwen, eyes begging explanation. She didn’t get it.
Gwen sighed. “Deculein made it a condition that you sit this out.”
“...Pardon?”
“He’s doing it instead of you. Not with you.”
“...”
Julie read the letter silently.
Eunuch Jolang’s words were crystal clear.
Fiancé Deculein worries for your safety, so withdraw. But never disclose this mission’s existence.
“...Julie?”
Julie stayed quiet for a long time, face lost. Then she crumpled the letter and spat through gritted teeth.
“...Is this real?”
“Yeah. Deculein’s a jerk, huh?”
Gwen gave a wry smile. Julie didn’t hear, rolling her tongue inside her cheeks. Her cheeks puffed out once, then deflated.
A habit when she was truly pissed.
“Why—”
“Why, you ask?”
Rafel answered this time. Julie looked at him behind Gwen. Arms crossed, he said,
“Deculein knew about your injury.”
“...My injury?”
Julie echoed. Gwen shrugged and nodded.
“Yeah. That it hasn’t healed. You’ve been pretending. He knew somehow.”
“...”
“The palace basement for this mission’s crawling with demonic energy. And that’s poison to your injury, right?”
The severe wound from the mission. She’d been at death’s door then, but now she’d overcome it.
Or so Julie thought.
“He tried to flunk you from instructor knight duty for the same reason. Felt your mana, saw it instantly. Perks of being head professor, I guess.”
She’d told me not to say it, but screw it~ Gwen muttered before continuing.
“Publicizing your injury history would tank your career, so he hid it his way. For you. Without telling you.”
Julie knew. If it worsened, guardian knight was off the table. That’s the kind of injury it was.
“Deculein hates eunuchs, especially Jolang. Common knowledge. Yet he took the mission for you. Well, duh. You got hurt because of him in the first place.”
Yukline and the eunuchs were at each other’s throats. Not just Yukline—high families clashed hard with eunuchs. Especially Phairden and Yukline.
“Anyway, just till you heal. If we fail this, we’ll wait till you’re better. Means we can’t do it without you.”
“Right~”
Syrio chimed in from behind. Gwen shot him a glare; he grumbled and backed off.
“I wasn’t supposed to say anything, geez...”
“Understood. I get it. Please head back.”
Julie politely ushered them out. The trio hesitated but left for her sake.
“...”
Alone, she placed a hand below her collarbone.
A distinct lump. Just touching it burned. She thought she’d beaten it, but lately the scar felt alive again.
“This time... you knew too.”
Julie thought of Deculein.
Long ago, his love had been immeasurable. Too vast, it bound and crushed her—like violence.
He’d driven her like that.
—But now.
He’d changed. Unbelievably, clearly.
Some called it all an act. Rayleigh, Rockfel—don’t fall for it—
“It is an act!”
“!”
The shrill voice startled Julie. She buzzed like a phone on vibrate.
“Or I’m wrong!”
At her table stood the tower chairman, beaming at her.
“...Did I mutter to myself?”
“No! My mind-reading spell! I only caught up to ‘Some called it all an act—’!”
Julie’s eyes bulged.
“H-How rude! Eavesdropping on someone’s thoughts!”
“Ack! Why yell! I didn’t think it’d work! Scared the baby!”
“...Baby?”
Julie belatedly noticed the collar the chairman gripped. Below it, a fluffy little dog.
“Oh my Spartan Adrienne II! You okay?!”
—Woof! Woof!
“She’s scared!”
Julie stared blankly at the dog.
“Ah... yes...”
The dog grinned, panting happily.
That innocent smile, the protruding snout. Too cute—soul-stealing...
The chairman, watching her, asked gruffly.
“Hm. Like dogs?”
“Pardon? Ah, uh, y-yes... No. On a mission.”
“Heh!”
The chairman chuckled and plopped ‘Oh My Spartan Adrienne II’ onto Julie’s lap.
Julie flushed crimson. The dog barked—woof!—and her stiff face melted.
But the next instant.
Julie unleashed mana reinforcement.
“Stop. I’m serious.”
The chairman had tried piercing her with that ‘mind-reading spell’ again.
“Tch. Fine, buy me coffee then!”
“...Feels like yesterday I was strolling the campus.”
Julie dodged. Fixing her gaze outside, she left the chairman tongue-tied, who then ordered her own coffee.
Tick-tock—tick-tock—
A day passed. Midnight.
I stayed late in the lab, checking magic.
“...Stuck.”
Ifrin’s father’s idea. My longest project in this world—3,000 pages.
The magic research hit a wall.
“...”
I eyed the table’s documents.
The paper blended formulas, circuits, calculations, logic—concrete, systematic. But the biggest issue: I lacked the talent and mana for the final knot.
Implementing unfinished, ‘unrefined magic’ demanded massive mana and talent. Static mana could be supplemented with stones, but talent? That cut deep.
This required all four elements’ talents. Deculein had only two: earth and fire.
“Tch.”
Iron Man, yet my head throbbed. Probably from that revolver to my skull three days ago.
“Enough for today.”
Resigned, I lifted the materials with Telekinesis. Stored the hefty stack in the safe, then left.
Heading for the elevator, something caught my eye.
Allen’s office.
[Assistant Professor Allen]
A tiny room tucked in the 77th floor corner. Light still on.
I strode over and knocked—tap-tap—before entering.
“Ub!”
Allen jolted awake from face-planted on his desk. Sleepy-faced, he mumbled.
“P-Professor... why’re you still heeere?”
“What?”
“...You’re still up late, Professor.”
“Waiting for me?”
“Ah. Leaving first is rude...”
I smiled faintly. Allen grinned dopily, scratching his head.
“Then let’s head out together.”
“Ah, yeees! One sec! I’ll grab the log!”
Allen dashed off. Waiting, I scanned the office.
Dust-free shelves, neatly filed docs, logs since becoming assistant prof, student records, lecture notes, grades...
Impeccably diligent office. But missing the most important thing.
The space was spotless—like a ‘warehouse’, not an assistant prof’s office.
—However.
No trace of owner Allen. No scent, stains, even footprints.
Not just here.
My office, the tower—his presence was fading.
Like an occupational habit.
Erasing himself before leaving.
I didn’t know his exact job, of course.
“Not much time left, huh.”
Lately, I’d been feeling it.
Allen’s departure neared.
“...”
I eyed the book on his desk. My gift: Understanding Pure Elements: Yukline Revised Edition.
Studied hard, but question marks everywhere. Good—advanced sections, not basics.
“Professor.”
Allen returned.
“And this. New mage applicant list! Better this time...”
He showed a sheet. Mages applying under me.
Improved from last, but still not up to snuff.
I pocketed it and looked down at him.
“Allen.”
“Yees?”
“Semester’s ending soon. Important time for you too.”
End of term—busy for all in the tower. One vanishing wouldn’t raise brows. Perfect for leaving.
“Ah~ yeah. But I’m fine! Assistant prof’s plenty for me!”
He beamed.
That face too familiar to me, a bit cheeky. How long till he drops the act?
“Allen, how many years by my side?”
“Since you became head prof!”
“I see.”
What chance had he been waiting for?
Assassination? Observation?
Whatever the goal, leaving meant success—or imminent.
I wanted to know his intent.
No death flag on him, sure. But I knew from experience they could hide it.
Yuseffin fooled my eyes.
“...Allen.”
I murmured his name deliberately. Placed a hand on his innocently tilted head’s shoulder.
“Thanks for everything.”
A short hint of farewell.
Allen’s eyes rounded.
“...Yees?”
Moonlight filtered through the window. White shadows draped his face, revealing emotions within.
Pure surprise, sudden doubt.
Nothing more.
...Just a probe. If he’d slipped at this, he’d have been caught ages ago.
“Before, I said you passed my test.”
“Ah, yees!”
Allen clasped hands to chest, squeezing.
“When you gave me assistant prof. You said only my diligence passed. But there’s a next stage—”
“First was ‘diligence’. Next: ‘trust’.”
“Trust...”
Allen echoed blankly. I kept my hand on his shoulder.
“Allen, you’ve earned my trust.”
“Y-Yees?!”
Shock bloomed on his chubby cheeks. Amid the trembling flesh, I glimpsed hidden emotion.
“Can’t keep someone I trust as mere assistant prof forever.”
“Th-Then...”
“Next semester, I’ll give you a professor position.”
“...!”
Allen’s eyes welled up.
...I didn’t know which parts of him were real or fake. That’s why I kept him close.
As the saying goes: keep friends close, enemies closer.
If he was an enemy, I’d be a tad disappointed—so this was persuasion too.
“So trust me too.”
I wiped his eye corner with gloved finger. A clear droplet on black leather.
“Stay in this tower.”
Allen’s face slowly fell.
Frozen from shock? Or true face emerging?
I couldn’t tell.
Just met his eyes and continued.
“Stay by my side.”
Then the moon hid.
A line rose, shadowing his face.
Death Variable Avoided