The Weight of White Night (Part 2)
The frustration that had been building inside me finally spilled out in a muttered curse.
I had no choice but to let it slip. This blade wasn’t just any treasured weapon—it was the very counterpart to the cursed Black Night.
Carrying it meant I could already picture the disaster waiting for me.
He’ll chase me down until I’m dead.
I couldn’t allow that. The two of us were, in every sense of the word, a terrible match.
More precisely, the Black Night he carried and this White Night had an almost poisonous synergy.
White Night was a legendary blade that manifested its unique effects only when the sun was blazing brightest. First, it stripped the owner of any perceived weight the sword carried. Of course, the actual mass never changed.
That meant I could swing it like it weighed nothing, relying purely on muscle memory and instinct. It also granted the perfect assassin’s instincts—making my footsteps, mana flow, scent, and even my voice completely undetectable to anyone else.
The White Night offered the exact same abilities, yet its effects only activated during daylight, the precise opposite of the Black Night’s nighttime stealth.
The irony was almost laughable: the sword suited for assassination could only be used in broad daylight. That single fact had crushed its real-world value for anyone who wanted to stay hidden.
Which is why the Black Night wielder—someone whose name literally promised darkness—would be a nightmare matchup for this blade.
Compared to the Black Night, the White Night was nothing more than a sturdy, sharp masterwork that felt painfully ordinary next to its legendary counterpart.
I had pulled it from the academy’s treasure vault, and the power it carried was embarrassingly weak for a legendary relic. I turned my head away, ready to keep walking down the corridor.
White Night flared bright once more, tugging at my attention like a beacon.
Just ignore it. It’s useless.
I took another step.
White Night trembled again, sending out that strange humming sound.
Completely ignoring it and keeping walking—
“Berry, why don’t you at least give it a try? If it doesn’t suit you, you can simply set it back down.”
“…I have one question, Headmaster.”
“Something on your mind, Berry?”
“What are White Night’s selection criteria? You sounded shocked when I chose it just now…”
If I had been alone, I would have pretended to ignore it until the very end.
I would have feigned deafness.
Only when the headmaster stepped out behind me, his expression softening the moment he looked at White Night, would I have done so.
Once. Just once.
He would have used that tired, half-hearted line about not wanting to wear a condom, whispering things like “I just want to feel the tip a little raw,” and tried to talk me into it. He hadn’t done that yet, so I kept walking.
Finally, I sighed, turned back, and the headmaster offered me a satisfied smile.
“Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t know. White Night uses a rather unusual criterion—different from those of other famous blades.”
“So what exactly is it? Because I need to know why you’re so pleased with this particular piece.”
This was information that hadn’t even appeared in the original novel. I had no choice but to ask.
After all, how was I supposed to know anything about a character who had never appeared in the story?
When I voiced my confusion, the headmaster answered, and I had to force my face to remain straight.
“Despite its name, White Night is a blade that only releases its power during the day, when the sun is at its brightest.”
“…”
“Therefore, the standard for choosing White Night is simple. A swordsman born with extraordinary talent yet cursed with a tragic destiny.”
“Shit.”
The word slipped out without even passing through my brain.
Famous blades weren’t supposed to have such ridiculous selection rules.
“By the way, Black Night was created after White Night. So the same criteria apply to it as well.”
“Then carrying either White Night or Black Night is just advertising that you’re a pathetic, doomed character, isn’t it?”
“Advertising? I have no idea what that means… but it’s true that both blades carry some value.”
“Because they’re famous swords?”
In that case, I would have gladly picked any other blade from the treasury.
Even if it was plain, it would still be better than these pathetic legendary relics.
“No, the truth is that anyone who possesses both White Night and Black Night is said to be able to overcome their tragic destiny.”
“…”
This was new information I hadn’t known.
He had been hunting White Night with such desperation because he wanted to overcome the tragic fate written for him.
I turned my head and gave White Night a quick, sideways glance, eyes full of doubt.
Was the headmaster telling the truth? Or was he simply claiming that the blade possessed no such ability?
But even so, his single sentence had given me reason to choose White Night.
This world was completely unreasonable—far beyond any logic or rule.
Yet the characters and their settings had never broken those rules.
People behaved according to their personalities, weapons kept their inherent traits, and monsters remained exactly as defined.
Even if the author twisted every trial and tribulation he gave me and Lily, he could not rewrite the original settings that defined us.
Only I was allowed to insert myself into the author’s world and twist the story, shaking the very foundations of the narrative.
Just by looking at everything the author had done so far, I could already guess how far he was willing to go.
On the way to obtain the elixir, the path had never been described in the original story. The author could intervene endlessly and torment me without limit.
Our relationship, too, had been shaped to the absolute maximum within the countless constraints he had set.
And when the lycanthrope incident occurred, the creature that had left me near death was canon. He had not been permitted to change it to two, or any other number.
In short, the author had no choice but to insert other monsters to keep me believing it was a lycanthrope.
So, if White Night’s setting was as the headmaster described, then from the moment I claimed it, I would be able to completely resist the author’s forced tragic outcome for me and Lily.
Step.
I took one more step toward White Night.
“I want to choose you.”
Whoosh—
White Night trembled in welcome.
Yes.
Even the ending the author had forced upon me would be rejected.
That was the only ending that truly fit a twisted, forced tragic author.
I’ll make you regret adding every single setting to the story.
“Alright. Let’s do well from now on. And keep that light hidden… until I allow it.”
With those words, I closed my grip around the handle of the suddenly quiet White Night.
Whoosh—Whoosh—CRACK.
At the same moment, the floating stone that had been holding White Night aloft shattered. The full weight of the blade transferred through my palm.
No. It hadn’t transferred at all.
I simply imagined it because the hilt felt the same to my fingertips.
It was still daytime. The sun was high in the sky. Even if it weren’t visible, it was only natural that the White Night would feel weightless.
Wait a second.
Then couldn’t I use its full power in a dark room during combat?
Even in the lycanthrope forest last time. There had been no true darkness during the day.
But still—
“You, how bright can you glow if you try?”
White Night flared brightly in response.
Thanks to the long corridor stretching ahead, we could see far into the distance. The blinding light hurt my eyes, yet it was an unexpectedly pleasant surprise.
“It seems White Night has chosen you favorably, Berry. Congratulations.”
When I turned, the headmaster appeared, his face hidden behind a blackout spell. He had seen my unexpected grin.
“However, from now on, please give me a heads-up. Old bones can’t handle that kind of light.”
“Ah, yes… I’m sorry.”
Whoosh—
White Night dimmed its glow once more, as if in apology.
“It’s fine. I already cast a spell to prepare for this outcome. Besides… you’ve obtained a new weapon. Why don’t you try swinging it? Shall we head straight to the training grounds and test its cutting power?”
To be honest, the moment I picked a weapon, I had planned to head straight to the student council.
According to the conversation I had with Grace during treatment, my body was almost fully recovered.
Today’s afternoon, she had said, would be the student council party.
But I can’t ignore this.
After all, knowing my maximum combat power in advance was one of the necessary steps before any mission.
So I nodded in agreement with the headmaster’s suggestion.
White Night Resonance
Slash. The white edge of White Night carved a crescent of moonlight even under the blazing sun.
A knight practice dummy that I had lined up perfectly followed the path I had drawn, slicing through the air as it fell.
It was sharper than any sword I had ever seen. The blade was probably paper-thin, no thicker than a leaf.
Yet despite its feather-light weight, the sensation it gave me was completely different.
“This is a sword you truly need talent to wield.”
Logically, the idea that a lighter blade was better made sense. But weight and presence were two separate things.
When swinging a normal sword, a person relied on muscle power to strike. Yet here, the blade felt lighter than a thin branch and offered no resistance at all. How was I supposed to swing it properly?
In other words, this was a weapon you could not even handle without genuine talent.
It wasn’t meant to be swung like a normal blade. It was meant to trace a perfect trajectory, cutting through whatever lay in its path with smooth, lightning speed.
“…”
As I cut deeper and deeper, the more I realized this sword had been crafted specifically for assassins.
“An assassin gifted with the talent for blade work.”
I had taken a completely different path from original Finn, but there was nothing I could do about it.
After all, we were fundamentally different people.
Even if we had drunk the exact same amount of water and taken the same supplements, the tree with different roots would inevitably bear different fruit at the end.
I could no longer rely solely on Finn’s experiences.
Now that I knew we were different, I had to draw my own path, in my own way.
Finn’s talent and experience could only be used to sharpen the edge of my own blade.
And as long as I refused to use his power, there was no other way to draw upon his experience and talent.