Chapter 27

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Translator: MadScientist

Chapter: 27

Chapter Title: Weekend (1)

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Elise Petra's schedule was busy even on Saturdays.

Selenacio Academy's intensive supplementary training, private lessons in Mana Body, mana circuit formulas, and Latynel, plus field seminars to prepare for the mage track later on.

Up at 4 a.m., wrapping up at 10 p.m. After a grueling 18 hours of work, she finally made it back to the villa late.

"......Elise! I thought you weren't coming~ You're the main character here."

"Oh~ Top of the entire Selenacio!"

"Hey, are you getting prettier every time I see you.......?"

The place was in the middle of a full-blown party.

Speakers thumped with music, lights flashed wildly, and the parking lot was packed with luxury cars.

Not just Endex seniors, but alumni who'd already gotten into top universities had gathered for this "senior ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠party."

"Elise. Heard you aced every assignment?"

"This year's College Board is brutal on purpose. Word is a few might drop dead. Good for you, though."

"......Is that so."

Elise handled them with just the right warmth. She wore a faint smile, but there was a chill that said not to push it.

After exchanging quick greetings, she headed up to the second-floor balcony.

Kain and Rae were already there.

"Ah, you made it, Elise? Fuck, they denied my grade correction."

Kain grumbled, gripping a whiskey bottle by the neck.

"Some asshole must've straight-up stolen my answers. The mine thing covered for me, or I'd have been totally screwed."

Elise nodded and sank into a chair. She closed her eyes gently, letting the cool breeze soothe her exhausted body for a moment.

"Ooh!"

Rae suddenly yelped. Elise cracked her eyes open.

These guys won't even let me rest.

"Down to 90 people!"

The College Board dropout numbers must've been posted.

Individual scores were the University Association's domain, but the school got the totals in advance and announced them.

"Ah~ Finally. Sion that bastard failed twice straight and dropped out, right?"

Kain stretched lazily.

"His face pissed me off so bad. Feels like a nagging toothache's finally gone."

He chugged the whiskey. Kain had a way of voicing exactly what Elise wanted to say sometimes.

"It's just the natural order."

Still, Elise had no desire to feel anything about Sion Askal.

"Useless talents get weeded out. Him even challenging the College Board was arrogant overreach from the start, wasn't it?"

The disgust came as naturally as breathing, and hearing he was gone even lifted her spirits a bit.

"Still...... Kinda sad for Sion......"

Rae puffed out her cheeks, and Kain let out a dry chuckle.

"Hey. Weren't you the one who hated him most? Said you'd cut off your finger."

"He was ugly back then. Bald head with that gross scar."

"......You're insane. Isn't his head still bald now?"

Kain muttered in disbelief—

♬♪♩♪—

A classic ringtone chimed from Elise's phone.

The screen showed a surprisingly familiar name.

[Soliet Arkne]

"Why's Soliet......"

"Eek! It's Soliet?!"

Rae made a huge fuss. Even Kain perked up.

"She coming to the party? I tossed her in the group chat. No read, got ghosted though."

"Shh."

Elise pressed a finger to her lips. Kain clamped his mouth shut, and Rae mimed zipping hers.

She tapped accept.

"Hello."

—Yes. Soliet speaking.

"Yeah, I know. What's up."

Soliet calling first? First time since that incident. Felt kinda fresh.

Guess there's still a thread of connection between us.

—......

But Soliet didn't say anything. She seemed like she had a question but kept hesitating.

"Spit it out."

—Um...... well.

"Ask. It's fine."

Elise smirked, glancing at her nails. She'd had a perfect manicure, but the mine had wrecked them.

Need to get them fixed ASAP.

—Do you happen to know anything about Sion Askal?

"......?"

Soliet blindsided her with the question.

Presidium—the capital's top-tier apartment in Edshilla. A 150-pyeong penthouse complete with mana training room, gym, and sword dojo.

Soliet was alone inside.

No butlers, no maids, no chefs. She let no one in.

She allowed no one into her private space.

Other people were a hassle. She had zero interest in caring about anyone else.

Above all, they interfered with her "work."

—I told you before, didn't I? He's a psycho.

Elise's voice flowed from the smartphone.

Soliet nodded.

"Is that so."

—......Actually, let me add a line up top. A severely twisted psycho who can't even see himself objectively.

Elise seemed to really despise Sion.

"I see."

—Don't worry about it. He's already confirmed dropped after two fails—

Click.

She hung up. Then scanned her room.

Her "room"—big enough to be a whole house for most—was plastered with photos. Clipped articles everywhere.

All hung on the walls. Every inch covered.

Soliet's efforts to unearth the "truth."

"......"

Too many moments, too many people tangled up. Too many questions in this case.

That day's time, pain, and deaths were staked like spikes in her heart.

Soliet gazed up at the wall.

She'd had friends too. Precious people she'd shared over twelve years with.

All of them gone.

No—murdered.

Soliet's eyes drifted to one corner. A newspaper headline stared back.

Nightmare.

A pun swapping "night" for "knight."

The moniker for the monster who'd butchered thirty knights—or knight hopefuls—in a row.

But the follow-ups were all upbeat, triumphant. Exclamations plastered everywhere, photos beaming with smiles.

Crunch—

Soliet clenched her fist staring at them. Ground her teeth.

The case "ended" with a suicide.

But Soliet had met him before that. Seen the man the media branded Nightmare.

The moment their eyes locked, her instincts screamed. Her gut knew.

He wasn't the real killer.

He was a media puppet, the true culprit's scapegoat.

No relief needed. No emptiness either.

She was still hunting. That bastard breathing somewhere, blending in as a normal human, that motherfucker...

Lately, though, the investigation had stalled. She felt her limits.

Didn't expect help from her family.

Told them a few times, got treated like a PTSD nutjob.

All she needed was a person.

Someone she could tie to with fair pay, cut loose when done. Use when needed, toss when not.

A tool of a human.

Rustle—

Soliet pulled a flyer from her pocket.

Staring at it, she replayed the day. That "someone" ranting about Nightmare.

Quietly piecing it back. His words that crossed every line.

—Your family's fucked up.

A dull, cocky voice.

Pretending to know it all when he knew jack shit.

—Of course I know. Why you're desperate to break free from your family.

That alone ground her teeth, twisted her guts.

But that goddamn son of a bitch went and hit her reverse scale.

—Nightmare. Right?

Nightmare (Knightmare).

That monster was already her nightmare.

Not one day without dreaming of that day.

The instant sleep took her, the memory swamp swallowed her whole. Shattered blades, ripped limbs, gouged eyes. Dismembered corpses laid out in the morgue.

She couldn't move forward an inch from that moment. Couldn't retreat either.

That was the dream's end.

Waking in bed escaped the nightmare, but left only hollow quiet. Alive? Dead? The line blurred.

In her solitary space, she pieced together shattered reality just to confirm she was "living"...

"......Fuck."

Soliet crushed her brow. Tremors wracked her body. But she couldn't let a lowlife like that shake her.

Deep breath.

Eyes closed, she steadied her breathing. Calmed slowly, then opened them.

She eyed the laptop screen.

Sion Askal's sword dance from Swordsmanship Studies class. The recording she'd been analyzing for her report for the past hour.

One-line verdict: Mediocre.

Mediocre bordering on inferior.

Knight circles called swordplay like this "low-grade." Scraped from rumors, patched together like rags—stuff low-tier knights slapped together.

High proficiency, sure, but the overall style was worthless. And proficiency didn't deserve praise on something that basic to begin with.

0.5 out of 5.

Bang—!

She slammed the laptop shut in irritation once the report was done.

Crackle—crackle—

The old building's temp digs, fireplace roaring. A lazy Sunday morning where my body felt toasty like it might bake.

Back from Sanfru, I was sprawled in bed peering at the "mana core."

Ghost core from the Rimto Mine kill. Pondering what to do with it.

"Hmm......"

Ghost byproducts usually went for catalysts or mediums. Could make an accessory like any mana core, but superstition said ghost cores cursed you.

Its look was creepy unlike normal ones. Pulsed like it was alive, maybe.

"......Least 3k Ren."

Of course, I planned to sell. Had to start anticancer treatments sometime Apr-May.

Fired up the [Dark Web] app on my phone.

Dark Auction. Underground auction house on the dark web. My account level was low, so appraisal fees and cuts would sting, but no other options for a minor like me.

Placed the core on my palm, about to snap a pic with my other hand—

"......Huh?"

Suddenly my palm glowed blue. The core atop it melted ghostly white. Spontaneous dissolution. The liquid seeped right into my lifeline crease.

"What the—fuck!"

Shook my hand frantically, but too late. The clear solution burrowed into my skin in seconds.

"......"

I stared blankly at my palm. A soft blue sheen flowed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠across the skin, then faded.

"What the hell. My money."

I muttered dumbly.

Spectrum at work?

Quickly opened 「Notebook」.

"......Wait."

My eyes went wide. I glared at one part of 「Notebook」.

For reference, that –1 came from assimilation results. Capacity dropped steadily with practice and effort.

The issue wasn't the '–1'.

"Wasn't it a percentage?"

The capacity had changed.

Pre- and post-regression, it'd always been '100,' so I'd assumed 100%. But now it was up by '3'—103.

I rubbed my chin.

3k Ren vaporized, but capacity grew, and now I knew it could grow.

"But...... 3k Ren is still way too steep."

Still felt like a loss.

I've said it a million times: notebook, mana core, capacity—none of it mattered if I croaked.