Black Rain Has Fallen

By all appearances, the Organization was destroyed.

It felt as though a taut cord wound tight around his skull had suddenly snapped free. There was no mistaking it: the final layer of brainwashing planted by the syndicate had undone itself. It was the very same sensation he felt whenever an old conditioning was unraveled upon the completion of a mission, clearing the slate to prepare him for the next indoctrination.

Flap, flap.

Right on cue, a pigeon fluttered down from above. It was a carrier bird dispatched from the syndicate. Unfurling the parchment tied to its leg, he channeled mana into the paper, and letters began to bleed across the pale surface.

No matter how many times he checked, it was an authentic missive from the Organization. Over the years, he had received a handful of such brief ciphers, but never this one. Even so, he knew precisely what it meant: Total Annihilation of the Syndicate.

He had belonged to the foremost assassination guild in the entire empire. In fact, he had been their absolute finest operative. Phantom—that was the moniker whispered in terror by all who knew of him. Yet now, the place to which he was meant to return had vanished into thin air. And what was more—

"Still breathing, it seems."

Xiel raised a hand, touching his neck, his wrist, and finally resting his palm against his chest to verify the pulse. Just as anticipated, he had not died. Even the syndicate's ultimate safeguard had failed to claim his life.

Black rain has fallen.

Under normal circumstances, any operative who laid eyes on those words was meant to perish on the spot. It was a lethal trigger buried deep within the subconscious: the instant an agent touched that particular paper and registered the phrase, their heart was engineered to seize and stop forever. Yet Phantom's heart continued to beat with steady, vibrant vigor.

Without hesitation, he drew the mission scroll from his breast pocket. Sparks caught, and in a fleeting flash of fire, both the mission scroll and the carrier's note dissolved into drifting ash. The sole piece of physical evidence linking him to the assignment was thoroughly erased, completely purging any trace that Phantom had ever been deployed on this job.

"Have I finally... broken free?"

The Organization had fallen. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠And now, the man once known as Phantom stood before a completely different destiny.

Armed with a forged identity, he stood on the verge of teaching his very first class. It was the first day of his infiltration.

He had not always been known as Phantom.

Some twenty years ago, during an era whose names and memories had grown hopelessly faint, the very first words he had learned before even turning three years old were: "Please give me food." He had repeated that plea incessantly to strangers passing on the cobblestones.

—You have natural talent, boy.

Then, one day, a man had stopped before him and spoken those words.

—I'll feed you until you're full. Will you follow me?

From that day forth, he was molded into a killer. It was an unbroken cycle of relentless training and systematic brainwashing. He mastered countless lethal arts while his emotions were methodically suppressed into oblivion. After surviving the final lethal trial, he became an assassin, spending the next two decades immersed in bloodshed.

The moniker 'Phantom' only attached itself to him after he completed his two-hundredth contract. Rival guild assassins, high-ranking imperial officials, slave traders, tyrannical lords, even wealthy merchant syndicate leaders—at the mere rumor that Phantom was on their trail, even the most arrogant figures in the empire trembled in sheer terror. Wild, absurd legends followed in his wake: that he possessed no physical body and lived exclusively within the dark; that he was a creature spawned from the abyss; that he was the blood child of a demon.

That was what Phantom represented: an object of absolute reverence to his fellow killers, and an inescapable dread to those marked as targets. And yet, that very same legend was currently sitting in an academy office, meeting face-to-face with a Sword School professor prior to his inaugural lecture.

Not a terrible warrior, Xiel observed silently.

Edelbein Academy's Sword School was a martial college where students enrolled to study swordsmanship and the warrior arts. Alongside the Arcane School, which specialized in magic, it formed one of the twin pillars of Edelbein Academy. Though the Arcane School had recently surpassed it in prestige and imperial favor, public sentiment still held the two in equal esteem. Comprising approximately one thousand undergraduates out of the academy's three thousand total students, the Sword School was by far the largest single faculty on campus.

Sitting across from him was one of its full faculty members: Elcanto Paredes. He used to be a remarkable combatant. In the past, he had held the title of Great Knight, ranking just below the supreme paragons known as Imperial Knights. Although he had stood at the lowest rung among the Great Knights, the title was never granted to anyone who had not established their own distinct school of swordsmanship.

However...

His belly seems to be bulging even more today, Xiel thought.

The man had grown far too fat. Doubtless, he had been quite formidable in his prime. But while Elcanto covertly adjusted his robes to conceal his protruding gut, Xiel's amber eyes were calculating something else entirely.

If it were an ambush, one strike. Facing him head-on, perhaps two.

It was an assassin's ingrained instinct, instantly measuring capability and lethal outcome. Professor Elcanto, however, completely misread the quiet intensity of that gaze.

"Instructor Xiel Steelheart, please, relax," Elcanto said, offering an easy smile. Inwardly, the professor was marveling at an entirely different discovery. Good grief, he's ridiculously handsome. And why is his skin so strikingly pale?

A new life had begun under the alias Xiel Steelheart. Until now, Xiel had never walked in the open showing his true countenance. For every contract, he had swapped appearances using hyper-realistic skin masks. He had never once paused to consider his own natural features, which meant he remained utterly oblivious to how startlingly sharp and captivating his genuine visage was to onlookers.

"Ahem, cough. Instructor Xiel?"

"Ah. Yes."

Professor Elcanto's voice took on an oily, reassuring cadence. "We are genuinely grateful that you applied, Instructor Xiel. Coming to our prestigious Edelbein Academy is truly an exceptional, outstanding decision on your part."

"Is that so."

"Indeed! You have no idea what a relief it is that you joined us. Please, take good care of our students."

"Yes, I understand."

His response was flat, devoid of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slightest emotional inflection. Had his conditioning still been intact, he might have feigned a pleasant, approachable demeanor. After all, the syndicate's indoctrination was designed to alter an operative's very persona to suit the parameters of the infiltration. A brainwashed tool held no authentic sense of self; it simply moved according to its pre-programmed script.

Now, however, only three things remained within Xiel: the ingrained instincts of an assassin, the lethal techniques of an assassin, and an authentic ego that had finally returned after twenty years, completely blank like a fresh sheet of parchment.

The vast hoard of tactical knowledge and academic data he had absorbed for missions remained intact. But synthesizing that raw information into original thoughts and personal philosophies required an active sense of self. Lacking a central anchor, his knowledge floated like scattered fragments across a pristine, untainted expanse.

"A man of few words, I take it? Actually, I prefer that," Elcanto remarked smoothly. "After all, an instructor at Edelbein Academy ought to possess a certain solemn gravitas."

"..."

Xiel offered no reply. His newly awakened mind was still tangled in the shock of reclaiming his autonomy. Yet that deadpan, stony stillness only invited further misinterpretation.

Did he not hear me? Elcanto wondered, blinking. "Instructor Xiel?"

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"..."

"Ahem! Wonderful! Truly, that heavy composure is a splendid trait! An absolute necessity for an educator!"

Amid the professor's praise, Xiel harbored only a single objective: to adapt seamlessly as an elective lecturer at Edelbein Academy's Sword School. It was not a command handed down by handlers, but a goal chosen by Xiel himself.

A new life.

Twenty years as an assassin meant twenty years without a soul of his own. Now that he had reclaimed his identity, he was determined to forge a legitimate existence. In fact, seeking that very chance at life was the reason he had broken his conditioning in the first place.

"I shall endeavor to adapt well," Xiel stated flatly.

"A commendable attitude!"

Professor Elcanto beamed with satisfaction, though behind that affable grin lay a vastly different calculation.

Thank the heavens, I survived this year's crisis, Elcanto mused, sighing with relief. Finding elective lecturers for the Sword School was an absolute nightmare, largely due to the restrictive application criteria. Commoners were barred from applying; only nobles were eligible. While fallen nobility was permitted, impoverished nobles usually enlisted in the imperial army instead, where starting as an officer provided decent pay and regular wages.

Naturally, had low pay been the only hurdle, there still would have been applicants drawn by prestige alone. Edelbein Academy was an ancient institution whose history ran parallel to the founding of the empire itself, and many coveted the honor of being affiliated with it. But the elective lecturer position was an entirely different beast.

Paltry wages. A temporary contract. Zero institutional prestige, and no severance pay whatsoever. On top of that, lecturers were treated with condescension by full professors and outright ignored by arrogant noble students. It was bad enough that the previous applicant had packed his bags and quit before the first semester had even reached its midpoint.

With no replacements available, three of the five elective courses had been forcibly distributed among the existing professors, while the remaining two were dumped onto long-suffering teaching assistants. The arrival of a single newcomer was an absolute lifeline for the faculty—especially for Elcanto, who sat at the very bottom of the full professor hierarchy.

What was the record so far? Five months? Whatever the case, he cannot be allowed to quit. My days of doing dog work are finally over!

Elcanto studied the young man. If this fellow could just endure for six months, it would be a blessing.

"Ahem. Just in case you are wondering, if you perform well, contract renewal is well within reach, so do put your best foot forward."

"Is it possible to be promoted to professor in the future?" Xiel asked.

"A... professor?"

Elcanto stared, momentarily struck dumb. Is this fellow a complete idiot? He applied for a temporary elective post and is already asking about a professorship?

Though it was theoretically not impossible for an elective lecturer to climb through the ranks of assistant professor to eventually attain a full professorship...

It's practically a pipe dream.

Nevertheless, Elcanto stretched his lips into a radiant, encouraging beam. "Why, of course, Instructor Xiel!"

"Instructor..."

"Anyone who displays dedication and proves their competence can achieve it. You already fulfill the baseline requirements, so if you dedicate yourself diligently to your duties, opportunities will surely present themselves."

"Understood. I will do so."

A naive fool who knows nothing of how the world works has walked right into my lap, Elcanto thought, an amused smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Meanwhile, Xiel established a secondary objective in his mind. A professorship is attainable. If he could climb to such a station, the safety of his cover identity would increase tenfold. For now, however, remaining at Edelbein Academy for as long as possible took immediate precedence.

This place is the safest haven.

It was not that Edelbein Academy itself was an inherently safe fortress; rather, it was this specific mission that offered safety. Unlike every previous assignment, Xiel had engineered this entire operation himself. No one else in the world knew about it. He had forged the mission directive with his own hands and secured the identity of the fallen noble house of Steelheart entirely on his own—all to lay the groundwork for his new life.

Though the assassination target assigned to this school was real enough.

Xiel looked directly at the professor. "I have a question."

"What is it, Instructor Xiel?"

"What must one do to receive an exemplary evaluation as an instructor?"

Xiel was genuinely curious. Securing favorable marks was paramount if he wished to prolong his tenure at Edelbein Academy.

"Hmm..." Elcanto pondered the inquiry for a brief moment before offering a textbook response. "Simply teach by the book, adhering strictly to the academy regulations."

"By the book."

"Is there really anything else to it? An educator's duty is to instruct the students properly and evaluate them in strict accordance with standard protocol."

"Understood. I shall conduct myself strictly by the book."

Xiel engraved the phrase into his mind, turning the words over multiple times. Strictly by the book.

As if knowing that would ever make someone like you a professor, Elcanto scoffed silently.

"Ah, and naturally, it is always beneficial to harbor affection for your students," the professor added offhandedly.

"How does one harbor affection?"

"...Pardon? Er, well... wouldn't one simply care for them with love? Haha."

"Love..."

It was an entirely foreign concept to him.

"I shall endeavor to do so."

"Yes, yes, splendid! I have no doubt you will do wonderfully, Instructor Xiel." Elcanto's face practically beamed with patronizing warmth. "Ah, and take this as a welcoming gift. It is a compilation of the academy's official statutes. Give it a thorough read."

"Should I memorize it in its entirety?"

"Well, memorizing it wouldn't hurt, though..."

"Understood."

Taking the hefty tome into his hands, Xiel rose from his seat. "In that case, I will take my leave to conduct my class."

"Ah, look at the time! Best of luck with your first lecture, Instructor Xiel."

Click.

The door swung shut behind Xiel. Left alone, Professor Elcanto stretched lazily, a thoroughly delighted expression settling over his plump features as he set about brewing a pot of tea.

"A professorship? Good grief. That boy doesn't have the faintest clue how the world works." Chuckling to himself, Elcanto fetched his steaming teacup along with the morning gazette. "Memorize the rules, he says? Does he have any idea how thick the academy penal code is?"

Snorting, he snapped the newspaper open, only for his eyes to widen at the explosive headline blazoned across the front page.

"A punitive subjugation of an assassination syndicate? Well, live long enough and you'll see just about everything."

It was news concerning the eradication of the very syndicate that had made the empire's greatest magnates shiver in their beds.

"Good riddance, I say," Elcanto muttered, tossing the paper casually onto the corner of his desk.

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