The Protagonist's Choice
The infirmary had turned into a battlefield. To be precise, no actual fighting had broken out. But the atmosphere alone made it feel as though crossing blades would have been preferable. All the students from Sector B-7 had been moved to the infirmary. The faculty checked for mana contamination while the medical staff sorted the injured. Academy guards blocked the corridor entrances, and the imperial knights stood watch outside the treatment room where Rhea remained. The problem was that I stood at the center of every gaze.
“Kyle Diaren, please raise your left arm.”
“Like this?”
“Slower, please. Any pain?”
“A little.”
“We don’t use the word ‘little.’”
Aria cut in immediately. I sat on the examination bed, a fresh bandage wrapped around my side and the faint glow of a holy mark still lingering on my wrist. While the medic assessed my condition, Aria stood beside me like a sentinel. It was hard to believe she had been diagnosed with severe mental fatigue from the illusion just moments ago.
“You should rest too, Lady Aria.”
When I spoke, she smiled softly.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“What about you, Kyle?”
This conversation was going nowhere. Her smile was as gentle as ever, but her eyes held an unfamiliar resolve. After the illusion in B-7, Aria had changed. Outwardly she remained soft and cautious, yet she now carried the quiet stubbornness of someone who had decided never to let go. That stubbornness was currently fixed on my bandages.
“Saintess candidate.”
Siella’s voice drifted over. She sat on the neighboring bed, receiving treatment for her hand. Though freshly bandaged, her sword still rested within easy reach.
“Stop staring at Kyle and check your own condition.”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.”
“You just said the same thing, Lady Siella.”
“I’m a knight.”
“And I’m a saintess candidate.”
The two women regarded each other. Their tones were calm, yet neither showed any sign of backing down. In the past, Siella would have grown impatient and Aria would have yielded. Not anymore. Aria was no longer someone who always put herself last, and Siella seemed to recognize that. After a brief silence, Siella let out a short laugh.
“Fine. You win this round.”
“It wasn’t a contest.”
“Then what was it?”
“We’re both receiving treatment.”
“You certainly have a way with words.”
I sighed quietly as I watched them. Just then, the infirmary door opened. A wave of cold air preceded her entrance. It was Rhea Silverrian. She appeared to have already completed her preliminary examination. Her silver hair was neatly arranged, and her blue eyes remained as icy as ever. Up close, however, I could sense the faint instability in her mana.
She stopped in front of me.
“How are you?”
“Alive.”
“That is not a status report.”
“Mana circuit strain, pain in my side, numbness in my left arm. But I can move.”
“Don’t move.”
It was a curt command.
“You should rest as well, Your Highness.”
“I’m fine.”
Aria spoke quietly.
“That word is forbidden for you too, Your Highness.”
Rhea’s gaze shifted to Aria. The air in the infirmary chilled instantly.
“Saintess candidate. Are you giving me orders?”
“No. I’m speaking as your attending healer.”
“I never requested treatment.”
“But you extended your hand earlier.”
Rhea fell silent. Perhaps she was recalling how she had clutched a child’s hand inside the B-7 illusion. For the briefest moment, her eyes wavered. Siella observed the exchange and chuckled softly.
“It’s rare to see Her Highness at a loss for words.”
“Lady Bayern. Your hand seems healed. Shall I break it again?”
“Feel free to try.”
“Both of you, stop.”
I intervened on instinct. Three pairs of eyes immediately locked onto me. Why did mediating always make things more dangerous?
Another voice came from the doorway.
“May I interrupt?”
It was Edan Gray. The atmosphere in the infirmary shifted. He looked as composed as ever, though fatigue showed on his face. The illusion in B-7 must have struck him hard as well—seeing himself harm others in the name of justice. For someone like Edan, that was the cruelest vision imaginable. Yet he stood tall.
“Edan.”
When I called his name, he bowed his head slightly.
“Lord Kyle. May I speak with you for a moment?”
Rhea spoke at once.
“He is currently receiving treatment.”
Aria added, “He needs rest right now.”
Siella tapped her scabbard.
“Is it urgent?”
Edan did not retreat under their combined scrutiny.
“It concerns the message from the Black Feather.”
Everyone fell silent. The sentence resurfaced in my mind: The next target is the protagonist’s choice. The Black Moon was not after me this time. They were targeting Edan—specifically, forcing him to make a choice. I still didn’t know what decision they intended to impose on the original protagonist, but it couldn’t be anything good.
Rhea said, “Speak here.”
Edan looked at me. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. I nodded.
“It’s all right.”
Edan slowly began.
“The committee plans to summon me separately.”
“The committee?”
“Yes. For an official statement regarding the B-7 incident. But before that, a professor approached me unofficially.”
His expression hardened slightly.
“They told me to keep an eye on you, Lord Kyle.”
Aria’s hand paused over my bandage—just for an instant, but I felt it. The warm flow of holy power around my wound wavered. Siella’s scabbard gave a low hum as her thumb pushed the blade up before pressing it back down. Rhea’s eyes grew colder, and the temperature in the room dropped once more.
“Who said that?”
Rhea’s voice was low. Edan remained silent for a moment.
“A professor from the Holy Church.”
Aria’s face went pale. The Holy Church. Priest Rowen. The suspected connection to the Black Moon. That name no longer represented a simple religious institution—especially not to Aria.
“What exactly did they say?” I asked.
Edan met my gaze.
“That Kyle Diaren is a dangerous variable, that his future memories are likely fabricated, and that he may be deliberately drawing people in to distort the original story’s flow.”
“We should arrest that so-called professor immediately,” Rhea said coldly.
“There is no evidence,” Edan replied quietly. “Those words alone don’t prove any connection to the Black Moon. Though they are suspicious.”
Siella asked, “So how did you answer?”
Edan’s eyes turned to me.
“I said I would look into it.”
The infirmary fell quiet. Aria spoke softly.
“Lord Edan… are you going to watch Kyle?”
Her hand still rested on my bandage. It was a healing touch, yet it pressed down a little harder now, as if trying to anchor me in place through sheer will.
Edan did not answer right away. The silence stretched. An odd tightness formed in my chest. I had known Edan didn’t fully trust me. His suspicion was understandable—I had interfered with his original role, moved as though I already knew the future, and even in B-7 an unprecedented line had appeared. From his perspective, monitoring me made sense. The problem was that the Black Moon intended to exploit that very suspicion.
The protagonist’s choice. This was probably it: whether to trust Kyle Diaren or to watch him. To see him as an ally or as a dangerous villain.
I looked at Edan.
“Do it.”
Aria stared at me in shock.
“Kyle?”
Siella frowned.
“What are you saying?”
Rhea simply watched me in silence. I continued speaking to Edan.
“It’s only natural that you can’t trust me completely. So watch me.”
Edan’s eyes wavered.
“You’re really saying that?”
“Yes. But I have one condition.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t watch me the way the Black Moon wants you to.”
Edan regarded me quietly. I went on.
“If you watch me already convinced I’m the enemy, it’s pointless. You’ll doubt everything I do. Blind trust is just as dangerous. So observe me properly.”
“Properly.”
“Yes. Whether I’m trying to run, trying to use you, or trying to survive together—see it for yourself.”
After a long silence, Edan spoke.
“You’re a strange person, Lord Kyle.”
“I hear that often.”
“You claim you were meant to die, yet you avoid death. You say you want to run, yet you return to the most dangerous places.”
“I don’t understand it myself.”
“But…” Edan exhaled slowly. “In B-7, I saw it. Even while fearing you might have stolen someone else’s place, you didn’t run from that responsibility.”
He extended his hand toward me.
“So I’ll tell you my choice.”
Rhea, Siella, and Aria all turned to look at his outstretched hand. Aria’s hand remained on my bandage; though she hadn’t stopped treating me, her gaze was fixed on Edan. Rhea said nothing, yet a thin layer of frost spread across the infirmary floor. Siella didn’t draw her sword, but her fingers tapped the scabbard faster. Edan faced all of their reactions without retreating.
“I will watch you, my lord.”
Aria’s hand stopped completely this time. Siella’s scabbard hummed, and Rhea’s eyes grew colder still. Edan continued, his voice firmer.
“At the same time, when the Black Moon corners you, I will stand in their way.”
Only then did Aria’s hand resume its work. The healing touch pressed down a little harder, as though declaring, Even so, I’m first. I swallowed. Aria’s expression remained composed as she continued treating me, though the tips of her ears had turned faintly red.
Rhea regarded Edan.
“You mean to protect while suspecting?”
“Yes.”
“Contradictory.”
“Perhaps it is.”
Edan did not avert his gaze from Rhea.
“But right now, it’s the most honest answer I can give.”
Siella murmured, “Not bad.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment. Not yet.”
“I’ll take it as one anyway.”
Noel’s voice drifted from the window.
“Well, the protagonist’s choice just failed.”
Everyone turned at once. Noel Ignis sat perched on the windowsill.
“Senior, couldn’t you use the door like a normal person?”
“That would be boring.”
Noel hopped down lightly and landed on the floor. She surveyed the tension between us and smiled in satisfaction.
“The Black Moon wanted Edan to see you as an enemy—or to trust you completely and fall into their trap together. Instead, he picked the most troublesome option.”
Edan asked, “What do you mean by troublesome?”
“Suspecting you while still standing beside you.”
Noel laughed.
“That’s the kind of relationship stories hate the most. Roles don’t stay neatly defined.”
Her words struck a strange chord. Protagonist and villain—once they became clear enemies or perfect friends, the story flowed easily. But a bond built on suspicion and cooperation was messy, unpredictable, and hard to sever.
I took Edan’s hand.
“I’ll be counting on you, Watcher.”
“I’d rather you didn’t use that title.”
“Then partner?”
Edan paused briefly before nodding.
“Partner works.”
At that moment, Aria’s hand on my wrist tightened. Rhea spoke coolly.
“Interesting. The imperial protection target seems rather quick to exchange the word ‘partner’ with someone else.”
Siella tapped her scabbard.
“Being partners doesn’t mean you can move as you please in battle. Kyle is weak.”
“I’m aware,” Edan replied. “I’ll support him.”
“I’ll be the one supporting,” Siella said.
“Aren’t you the vanguard, Lady Siella?”
“Vanguards can support too.”
Aria spoke quietly.
“I’ll handle the healing.”
Rhea added, “I’ll make the danger assessments.”
Noel grinned broadly.
“And I’ll do the observing.”
My head was starting to ache. The harder the Black Moon tried to isolate me, the noisier my surroundings became. Whether that was good or bad, I couldn’t say. One thing, however, was clear: I was no longer a villain who could die quietly alone.
Just then, the infirmary door opened again. This time it was Professor Graham. His expression was more rigid than usual.
“Everyone, the committee meeting has been moved forward.”
“Right now?” I asked.
The professor nodded.
“Not only because of the B-7 collapse and the Black Feather message.”
His gaze shifted to Edan.
“Someone has officially accused Edan Gray.”
The infirmary froze.
“What are the charges?” Rhea asked.
The professor spoke in a low voice.
“They claim the B-7 collapse was caused by Edan Gray’s mana overload.”
“That’s absurd,” Edan said, raising his voice for the first time.
Yet the professor’s face remained grave.
“I agree. But evidence has been submitted.”
“What evidence?”
The professor produced a single sealed black fragment. A faint, nameless sword emblem was etched into the dark shard. I recognized it the moment I saw it—a piece of the sword the black knight had wielded at the heart of B-7. The core that had carried traces of Edan’s illusion. It had fallen into someone else’s hands.
The smile vanished from Noel’s face. Rhea’s cold aura spread across the floor. Aria’s hand gripped my wrist more tightly. Siella picked up her sword. I clenched my teeth.
The Black Moon’s next move was swift and blatant. The protagonist’s choice was no longer about whether Edan would choose me. It was about whether the Academy would abandon Edan.