Retribution Beneath the Starlit Ceiling
The ceiling of the retribution chamber reflected the night sky. A moon hanging close overhead, galaxies shimmering in every direction. It made one feel not like they were in a building, but wandering across a lake under the stars. The floor stretched out as an inky black lake that sent shivers up the legs, and for a fleeting moment, one might mistake it for being adrift in space, abandoned far from the discipline room—plummeting endlessly into the unseen depths below. Six faintly glowing pillars marked out a central space, and at its heart stood a single man, rigid in posture.
His body was drenched in sweat, his eyes bloodshot. His jaw was tightly wrapped in bandages. From his attire, it was clear he was a professor. I advanced step by step. I stood atop one of the pillars; its hazy edge made it impossible to tell if I was on the pillar or the floor below. Helena approached and stood beside me on the neighboring pillar.
“Professor Felice.”
“Y-yes.”
Professor Felice answered hastily. Even without knowing our exact position, his gaze fixed precisely on the pillars above—meaning the structure was no secret. Which implied he knew the severe punishment awaiting him.
“Do you know what you did wrong?”
“……”
Professor Felice, eyes squeezed shut in apparent remorse, slowly parted his heavy lips.
“I knew of the students' prostitution ring but kept silent, covering up their actions.”
“And?”
“…In the past, I murdered a professor who witnessed their deeds and disguised it as an accident.”
“And?”
Something more seemed to linger on Professor Felice's lips, which twitched before clamping shut. As if he couldn't say it. My guess: something to do with Ios.
“Th-that's all.”
“Isn't there one more?”
“Pardon?”
Helena was her usual self. Still wearing that kindly smile and gentle expression. That made her all the more terrifying. Her inscrutable calm—impossible to gauge if she was angry or serene—hid unfathomable depths.
“Think carefully about the circumstances that led to your capture.”
“…I attacked the punishment instructor.”
As the rumors said, Helena paid little heed to the academy's politics. Was she hands-off, or simply uninvolved? Her philosophy—that true freedom was essential to reaching the Realm of Magic—was extreme to a fault.
“Director, please quell your anger and give me a chance. I know I committed grave wrongs and deeply regret them.”
Felice dropped to his knees in haste.
“I'll beg forgiveness from the instructor and burn my body to ensure such acts never recur. Give me a chance, I beg you.”
“I respect your actions, Professor.”
Felice lifted his head. A faint flush of hope colored his face.
“All magicians need freedom and serenity to attain the Realm. You sought it your own way.”
“Y-yes, exactly.”
As if. He'd just chased base desires. Helena knew that full well—this was mere lip service.
“Yet as director, I cannot overlook your crimes.”
“D-Director?”
“If I turned a blind eye to such sins, they'd surely repeat.”
The “incident” Helena referenced wasn't the prostitution. Contextually, it sounded like punishment for covering it up, but she meant the attack on the instructor.
“However, considering your diligent service as a professor, I'll reduce your sentence by one degree.”
Professor Felice's body floated upward. Not like bobbing on water, but defying gravity entirely, rising into the air.
“P-please forgive me! Director! Give me a chance, I beg you!”
“I sentence Professor Felice to a 50-year blackout.”
Blackout? Fifty years?
“Gwaaaah! Please! I was wrong! Please! PLEEEEASE!”
A strange transformation occurred. Felice's clothes disintegrated rapidly, vanishing. In moments, he was stark naked, as in the dawn of time. Then his vision went black. Literally—his eyes were shrouded in pure blackness, whites and pupils alike erased.
“I-I can't see! Director! Please give me a chance! I truly regret it! I'll even resign my professorship……”
Felice's bellowing cut off abruptly. His mouth kept screaming, face ashen, but an eerie silence reigned. Not mere soundproofing—the sound simply didn't exist.
“H-Helena? What kind of punishment is this?”
Unable to hold back, I spoke up. Helena smiled faintly.
“One where he sees nothing, hears nothing, feels nothing—and cannot speak.”
Professor Felice's body trembled violently. The space wasn't cold, yet he shook like a naked man cast onto a snowy peak, wrapping his arms around himself. Even groping his own limbs yielded no sensation, so he pawed frantically at his entire body. Suddenly