A New Face
Around the time Muzark headed to the outlaws' hideout.
Ruuuumble!
The East Gate, one of the four gates separating Redline and Orangeline, ground open. It was a heavy, portcullis-style iron gate. Beneath the raised barrier, a black van rolled through.
Even for the arrival of an investigator from a higher region, there was no grand welcoming ceremony. The only ones there to greet them were the night-shift guards who had scrambled out in a hurry, their faces tight with obvious tension.
“W-Welcome! It is an honor to have you, sir!”
“Apologies for dropping in so late.”
“Not at all! The Director will be here shortly, so if you could please wait just a moment...”
Through the open car window, a clean-cut man waved his hand dismissively.
“Don't bother. We didn't barge in at this hour just to whip you boys into shape.”
The guard on duty wore a complicated expression.
Today's visit had been completely unannounced. While they were nodding off, a sudden signal had demanded they open the gate immediately.
It was a bolt from the blue.
Thinking of the Director, who was probably sprinting over from his home right now, the guard found it hard to suppress a sigh. He would undoubtedly face a furious tongue-lashing later, but taking a beating from his boss was far better than getting on an investigator's bad side.
None of the guards wanted the investigator to remember their names. After all, you could always quit a job, but you couldn't quit life.
“I'm not down here on happy business, so there's no reason for you to welcome me. It's just useless, superficial formality anyway. I've never cared for noisy spectacles.”
“I-I see. Your wisdom is truly profound, sir.”
The investigator didn't even bother to snort at the textbook flattery. He accepted it with a blank face and presented his investigator ID and mage license.
“Aiden Bern, Second-class Investigator of the Eastorange Management Bureau.”
“A S-Second-class Investigator...!”
“As you can see, I've brought two companions with me. I'll make sure they don't cause any trouble.”
“I told you, we won't cause any trouble! How many times do I have to say it?”
“You're the reason he groups us together, Luca.”
Following Aiden's lead, two youthful figures showed their licenses. Luca and Rio. Though they had already verified their identities before crossing the gate, there was only one reason to show them again now.
To warn them: This is who we are, so don't even think about interfering with our business.
“Make sure to pass that along to your Director.”
“...Of course, sir. Without fail.”
“Then we'll be in your care for the next few days.”
The vehicle began to roll forward into the city.
Watching the accelerating van disappear into the distance, the guards all shared the same thought. Everyone could sense the storm that was about to shake the city.
“It's going to be loud around here for a while.”
Whether the investigator's arrival would bring fortune or ruin remained to be seen, but one thing was certain: it wouldn't pass quietly. As mere commoners, all they could do was pray.
Pray that the coming storm wouldn't sweep them away as well.
Before returning to the hospital, Muzark stopped by his lodgings.
He washed the blood from his body and changed his clothes, but he felt an indescribable awkwardness. The cheap refrigerator, the creaking drawers—the mundane, everyday space felt strangely foreign.
Only a single day has passed.
The density of time had been overwhelming.
In the span of that hectic day, Muzark's emotions had fluctuated violently. Rage and despair from loss. Self-loathing and a twisted sense of satisfaction from dirtying his own hands.
And a fragile sliver of hope.
Riding those turbulent currents, Muzark's heart had undoubtedly changed shape. It suddenly occurred to him that the last remaining fragments of his conscience—the part labeled 'Baek Si-woo'—had finally worn away to nothing.
But it didn't matter.
Once he finished preparing, Muzark headed straight back to the hospital. Normally, visiting hours would have been long over, but Redline's infrastructure operated almost entirely on loose, informal rules.
Knock, knock.
He pushed the door open the moment he finished knocking.
“...Why do you even bother knocking if you're not going to wait for an answer?”
“Just out of politeness. I didn't know you'd be awake.”
Yen was lying quietly in her hospital bed.
She was wallowing in the dark, single-occupancy room without even turning on the lights. With not even a television to distract her, it was an environment that would rot anyone's mind.
Muzark flipped the switch, and the overhead light flickered to life. He approached Yen, who winced and squinted against the sudden brightness. The smell of antiseptic grew stronger the closer he got.
Muzark set the item he had brought with him down on the bedside table.
“Here.”
“What is this?”
“Exactly what it looks like. Hair.”
Three clumps of hair, each a different color. Yen stared at them blankly, wondering what kind of bizarre gift this was, before her expression slowly froze.
She was quick-witted, as expected.
“Bringing their heads would have been a bit much. And fingers are hard to identify.”
“You absolute lunatic. Explain what happened.”
“There's nothing to explain.”
He had gone there and slaughtered them all.
He had merely cut the hair of the three ringleaders before dousing the burning hideout in alcohol. By now, their corpses would be nothing but charred ash.
Yen was utterly speechless.
It was an incredibly reckless and dangerous move. It wouldn't have been surprising if Muzark had been the one killed instead—at least, that was how Yen saw it.
“Ha... fine.”
She buried her nagging deep inside. It wasn't as if Muzark didn't know the risks. He had simply felt compelled to act despite them. She should just be grateful he returned alive.
Even so, she had to say at least one thing.
“...Don't do this again.”
Actually, maybe a few more.
“You have to be careful. You've experienced it firsthand. Some fools think their lives are set the moment they become mages, but surviving as a mage in the Empire isn't that simple.”
“So it seems.”
“Don't let yourself have weaknesses. Only think of yourself. Run when you need to run, and bow when you need to bow. I ended up a half-corpse because I was arrogant and stubborn, but you don't have to be.”
A faint spark of resolve flickered in Yen's hollow eyes.
“Muzark. You are a far better mage than someone like me. I just happened to get registered before you, but anyone would recognize your worth. Don't attach too much meaning to a single encounter in your life.”
Because no one would leave a brilliant, unpolished gem alone. They would either try to grasp it or scratch it. To protect himself from greed and malice, he had to cut away the excess baggage.
“That is how you survive.”
Muzark didn't answer for a long moment.
Their eyes met, and then he finally spoke.
“I'm going to climb to the top, Yen.”
“I'm sure you will. You have the talent for it.”
“But I'm not going to do what you said.”
He let out a dry snort.
“I'm going to obsess over every little thing. If someone treats me like a dog, I'll treat them like a dog right back. And if someone treats me with sincerity, I'll return that sincerity.”
He looked Yen dead in the eye.
“And you're the start of that.”
Yen's breath hitched. Her heart pounded violently.
And with every beat, a tearing pain ripped through her entire body.
“Wake up.”
The vivid pain forced her back to reality.
“I don't even know when I'm going to die. I can't cast a single spell anymore. If I try to throw a punch or a kick, I'll collapse and hover on the brink of death. I'm a ticking time bomb, nothing but dead weight.”
She refused to burden him with a broken body like this.
“That's not who I am.”
It was her final shred of pride.
Seeing Muzark off as he departed for Orangeline, and spending her remaining days hoping to hear even a whisper of his success before her spark of life finally went out.
That was the best future Yen could envision.
“I can't go with you, Muzark.”
She managed a bitter smile, but then—
“If your body is the problem, then just throw it away.”
Muzark began to spout nonsense.
“We can extract your soul and engrave it onto an empty vessel. I haven't finished writing the magic formula yet, but it won't be long. We don't even need to Memorize it; we just need to perform it once as a ritual, and it's done.”
“T-That's impossible.”
“It's entirely possible. And you of all people should know that.”
Beneath the cast shadow, Yen's brown eyes trembled.
Contrary to her denial, her mind was already analyzing the concept like a true mage. Soul extraction and engraving. It was an incredibly high-level magic, rare even in Yellowline.
Spells that manipulated the soul were as precious as they were complex. Even a single line of such a magic formula was heavily patented and rarely shared with the public. You couldn't buy them even if you offered a fortune.
It was magic far beyond the reach of a mere Redline mage.
And yet, Muzark's claim carried an undeniable weight of credibility.
“Harmensales.”
The Apostle of Knowledge.
A high-ranking demon that had absolutely no business being in a dump like Redline. A rookie mage with monstrous talent who had formed a contract with such a powerful entity.
Yen felt a strange sense of destiny.
“I won't force you. You decide.”
“Even if you have the formula, it's not something you can handle with your current skill level. Even if you could, your mana would be nowhere near enough. Where would you even get the catalyst? It's completely unrealistic—”
“Blah, blah, blah. Who told you to worry about all that?”
Muzark cut off Yen as she rambled on, listing all the reasons why it wouldn't work.
“Just think about what you actually want to do.”
“...How long do I have to give you an answer?”
“The sooner, the better. Didn't you say you don't know when you're going to die?”
“I don't think it's that imminent.”
“Ah, seriously. Always talking back.”
When he glared at her, Yen shut her mouth tight.
“I've said everything I wanted to say, but let me leave you with this.”
“Okay.”
“Let's stick around for as long as we can. Because that's what I want.”
His business finished, Muzark stepped out of the room.
As he closed the door, a muffled sob slipped through the crack. It was a different kind of cry from the despairing ones before.
At least, that was what Muzark chose to believe.
With a sigh, he turned left. Muzark frowned as he looked down the hallway. In the dim corridor, illuminated only by the red glow of a fire hydrant indicator, stood a silhouette.
Who is that?
It was a man he had never seen before. He was certain they had never even crossed paths. Some people simply radiated an aura that marked them as extraordinary.
The man spoke first.
“That was an interesting conversation.”
“I didn't realize someone was eavesdropping.”
“My apologies if I offended you. The timing was just unfortunate.”
Glancing toward the hospital room, the man began to walk in the opposite direction. Muzark took it as a sign to follow. Only after they were a safe distance from the room did the man stop.
“And you are?”
“Usually, people introduce themselves first.”
“Of course, but I'm someone who's much more accustomed to asking the questions.”
By now, Muzark had guessed the man's identity.
He was someone who didn't belong in Redline, much like Yen and Shadia. Staring at the long black pea coat, Muzark materialized his license.
“I'm Muzark. A mage affiliated with the Eastred Security Bureau. Lower 5th Class.”
“Lower 5th Class? You?”
The man tilted his head slightly.
“You don't look the part.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“At the very least, it's not an insult.”
A piercing gaze swept over him, as if trying to look past his outer shell. Soon, the man examined the license Muzark presented and let out a dry chuckle.
“It's only been a month since it was issued.”
“Well, yes. I registered a month ago.”
“Which explains why your rank is at the very bottom.”
With a deadpan face, he pulled out a cigarette and slipped it between his lips. As he tapped the tip, it caught fire without a lighter. It was a simple spell, but Muzark was secretly impressed.
He's the real deal.
The manifestation of the magic was as natural as breathing. He didn't even consciously think, I am going to use magic now; he simply wielded it like an extension of his own limbs. He was no ordinary mage.
“I'm Aiden Bern. Second-class Investigator of the Eastorange Management Bureau. Middle 5th Class mage. I have a two-year-old son. Is that introduction sufficient?”
...A son?
“You must have married early. You look quite young.”
“I think I was twenty-four. Sometimes I think marrying at forty-two would have been just fine, but I don't regret it. My wife's nagging is top-tier, a real joy to listen to.”
He definitely seemed to regret getting married.
“'You're too curious for your own good,' 'Why the hell do you keep picking up stray cats and people,' 'Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong'... It's the usual repertoire in the Bern household.”
His tone was so dry that it was hard to tell if he was joking or serious. While Muzark was trying to decipher his intentions, Aiden continued.
“Anyway, I've just earmarked you as a collaborator. Given the difference in our positions, you'll have to comply whether you like it or not. That leaves you with about three choices.”
Aiden extended his gloved right hand.
“You can pretend to cooperate until I leave, you can actively help me and get what you need in return, or you can try to beat me into submission. That last one is always an option.”
“...”
“Make your decision here.”
He added in a flat, even tone:
“The sooner, the better. Wouldn't you agree?”
Muzark looked down at the outstretched hand. A man who seemed ordinary yet was anything but. Though it was only their first meeting, a near-prophetic intuition was nudging Muzark forward.
One of the many encounters in life that Yen had mentioned.
If Yen was the first, then the man standing before him was surely the second.
What kind of relationship they would forge depended entirely on him.
Tring!
A New Face Appears!
✨ Notice: A brand-new face ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ has arrived for you, who successfully overcame that horrific terror attack!
❓ Outcome: Will he lead you to ruin, or guide you to a whole new world? Who knows? ┐(ﾟ～ﾟ)┌
🎁 Choice: The choice is always yours! Do your best this time too! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و
The answer had been decided from the very beginning.
“What should I call you?”
“Just show a reasonable amount of respect.”
“Then I'll call you Mr. Aiden.”
Muzark grasped Aiden's hand.