"They're waiting upstairs."
The teahouse owned by the Golden Turtle Trading Company looked closed — lights out, no customers. But the door wasn't locked.
When Rosalia stepped inside, an attendant appeared almost immediately, as though expecting her.
"Quite a setup you've got here," she remarked, glancing at the glowing magical runes engraved on the walls and doors. She gave a dry laugh and opened the door without knocking.
"Thank you for coming."
Inside, Fernand was waiting. But he wasn't alone.
"The invitation was a bit… aggressive, don't you think?"
"If it hadn't been, you wouldn't have come," Fernand replied calmly. "I apologize for the tone."
"Why did you call me here?"
"Please, take a seat first."
"I hope you realize that by being here at all, I've already shown great restraint."
"You should still sit. Do you think that letter was just a simple invitation?"
Fernand didn't back down. He tapped his finger lightly against the table, meeting her cold gaze without flinching.
"The research is right at its breakthrough. You're backing out now?"
"If necessary, yes."
"You've invested five years and an enormous fortune. You're just going to throw that money into the gutter? You?"
"If the loss that follows is greater than those five years' worth of investment, yes — I could."
At the word loss, Rosalia's eyes flickered slightly.
"When I was a child, my father gave me a gift — a small golem made of steel."
"That must've been nice," Fernand said evenly.
"It was. I was just starting to take an interest in magic back then."
She reminisced. She had been so fascinated by the mechanism and enchantments that powered the little automaton that she even slept holding it.
"But one day, my younger sibling saw it and threw a tantrum, wanting it for themselves."
"Did you give it up?"
"No. What's mine is mine, and what's theirs is theirs."
That principle wasn't quite in line with Fernand's philosophy — what's mine is mine, and what's yours can become mine too — but he stayed silent, listening.
"My father ended up gifting my sibling another identical golem. But they still wanted mine — and in the end…"
Fernand pretended to think.
"You gave it to them?"
"They took it. That's when I began to understand something."
Her tone softened, tinged with faint nostalgia as she stared off at nothing.
"Only later did I realize my sibling didn't want the golem itself — they wanted the attention I'd given it. But that doesn't matter."
"So the lesson here," Fernand said quietly, "is that you hate having things taken from you."
Rosalia smiled thinly. "You understand perfectly."
She sat down. "Convince me."
"I intend to."
Fernand nodded.
"…What's going on? Why is the professor—?"
"I don't know either, boss," Jace muttered. "Do we… need to leave?"
"No," said Fernand. "You're here because I need all of you."
"Aint and Jace?" Rosalia arched a brow. "What an odd combination. Tea?"
"I'll have it brought in."
A moment later, the attendant entered carrying four cups — tea, coffee, and a small tray of pastries.
"You may smoke if you wish," Fernand said.
"No need. I'm wide awake now, thanks to you."
Fernand set his coffee down.
"I called you here because I had no other choice, Professor."
"Then give me your reason."
"Before that — Jace, take it out."
"Huh? You mean that?"
"Yes."
Jace hesitated but obeyed, pulling a translucent crystal orb from his bag.
Rosalia frowned. "What's this?"
"Do you recognize it?"
"…So this is it. You think I'm the demonspawn?"
"I don't," Fernand said firmly.
He knew her too well — her family, her history, her personality.
Rosalia Vienderk was his first major investor relationship, back when he founded the Golden Pillar.
He had studied her more carefully than anyone.
She was like an austere scholar — proud, incorruptible. She would sooner die than sell her soul to a demon.
Even so, suggesting a check was only prudent.
He trusted her, but nothing in the world was absolute.
A single speck of corruption could ruin everything he'd built.
"Then what?"
"I've found a lead — and I trust you, Professor. That's why I'm asking for your help."
"So, the problem isn't me… but my laboratory?"
"Yes."
"That's the same as saying I'm the problem. That I can't even manage my own lab."
Her words were sharp, but Fernand didn't waver.
Even after being told her competence was in question, Professor Rosalia didn't twitch an eyebrow.
"One of my assistants, then?"
"I wish it were that simple."
This time, her composure cracked slightly.
"I monitor every experiment myself, every day."
"And I hope that nothing is wrong," Fernand replied.
Her doubt mirrored his own.
Rosalia was a powerful mage — one of the best in the Academy, perhaps in the entire continent.
Could a demonspawn really deceive her eyes, infiltrate her research, and turn her creation into a summoning conduit?
Unbelievable — yet that's exactly what happened.
At least, according to the prophecy.
And the prophecy had never once been wrong.
Especially when it concerned his survival.
"You'll be held accountable for your words."
"I understand — and I'll take responsibility."
"You said you couldn't find anything."
"That's why Aint Armian is here."
Aint blinked, pointing at himself. "Me?"
"You think he can find it?" Rosalia asked.
"The power he holds, Professor… is far more dangerous to demons than you might imagine."
"And if he can't?"
"Then I'll admit my mistake — and double your research funding."
Rosalia reached for the crystal orb, infused it with mana, and waited.
But the transparent crystal did not darken to gray.
"There's no trace of demonic energy. At least, not according to this artifact."
"Then that's that?"
"Yes."
He would've liked to have Aint and Gardner confirm it themselves, but reading another mage's inner flow of mana was crossing a serious line.
"Proof?" she asked.
"Within the next few days, I'll need the lab cleared of everyone. No assistants, no staff."
Rosalia set her empty cup down and stood. Without a word, she left the room.
No verbal response — but Fernand knew her silence meant agreement.
"Boss! Did I hear that right? You're saying there's really a demonspawn in Professor Rosalia's lab?"
"…That can't be true, right, senior?"
"It's true," Fernand said flatly.
"Gods above…"
"I thought all the demonspawn within the Academy were wiped out after that incident," Jace said.
"That incident? Oh, you mean when the demonspawn attacked you and the others?"
"Exactly," Jace nodded. "So what's going on this time?"
"There's one hiding inside her lab," Fernand said grimly. "And that thing has tampered with the very research I invested in."
"That's suicidal!" Jace barked. "Messing with your money, boss? Yeah, that's definitely a demon."
"Wait a second," Aint cut in. "That research… isn't it being presented at the Continental Academic Conference?"
Everyone in the Academy knew Professor Rosalia was preparing her work for the conference.
"If what you're saying is true, and something goes wrong during the presentation…"
"Then we're lucky to have caught it early," Fernand said. "The problem is, we still don't know what's been tampered with. You saw it yourself — even Rosalia didn't notice anything unusual."
"I don't get it," Jace said.
"What don't you get?"
"How you noticed something before she did. She practically lives in that lab. Did Lord Duleo maybe—"
"I can't tell you that."
More precisely, he couldn't explain it.
It was safer to stay vague than to risk lying about something the Church's saint might one day expose.
"Well, fair enough," Jace said. "You're not the type to lie about money. So what do you need me to do?"
"I plan to run the same check we did on Rosalia — but this time, on everyone in her lab."
"And me?" Aint asked.
"The trick is subtle enough that even Rosalia missed it. If it weren't for you, Aint Armian, I wouldn't have acted at all."
If it weren't for him, Fernand would never have chosen this path —
never attempted such a direct confrontation.
There's no greater act of self-sabotage than making accusations without being able to prove them.
"…So, you're saying I need to find traces of demonic energy that even the professor couldn't detect?"
Aint asked hesitantly.
Can I really do that?
— If demonic energy is involved, even a little, it won't be impossible.
Thankfully, the answer was yes.
"..."
When she first received Fernand's letter, and when she saw the Church's artifact in front of her, Rosalia Vienderk had been furious.
But once she returned to her office and exhaled a plume of smoke, she regained her usual composure.
Just as Fernand knew her well, she knew him too.
Would Fernand ever say something foolish about money?
No.
Would he withdraw from a massive investment without reason?
No.
Would he speak lightly about demonspawn?
Absolutely not.
Would he summon her and Jace Vines together, wasting their time on nonsense?
Also no.
Fernand…
No, none of it was baseless.
She'd reached her conclusion.
After snuffing out the shortened cigarette, she entered her laboratory.
"Professor, you're here."
"Are you done with your reports?"
Rosalia gave a slight nod and took her seat — one that overlooked the entirety of her research hall.
There's a demonspawn in here somewhere.
Five assistants.
There were others who were indirectly involved, but if someone had meddled directly with her research, it could only have been one of those five.
"Let's call it a day."
Her sudden statement made everyone freeze and turn toward her.
"But, Professor, we don't have much time left."
"It doesn't matter. We're in the final stage anyway, and none of you have slept properly in days. Take a day to rest and clear your heads."
"If you say so…"
"Go home. All of you. Come back tomorrow."
"Yes, Professor!"
"Thank you, Professor!"
The assistants left, visibly relieved to finally have a night off.
"Is something wrong?"
"Nothing at all."
"You should rest too, Professor. You always tell us to, but you never stop working."
Their eyes met.
Aron Frein smiled kindly — the same gentle smile that had lured two women and one soon-to-be assistant into the lab's fold.
A perfect face, too perfect.
"I'll rest," she said simply.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow morning."
He left.
Aron Frein.
She had never suspected him before — but now that Fernand had mentioned the possibility of a demon, he was the most likely candidate.
The most talented of her assistants.
The one with the most authority after herself.
Was he hiding his true power?
Enough to fool even her eyes?
Could Fernand really not be lying?
She still couldn't believe it.
If anyone else had made such an accusation, she would have destroyed them for the insult.
Yet with her own perception, her own magical sensitivity — she had found nothing.
Maybe Aint Armian really is different, she thought.
"We'll find out soon enough."
A bead of water formed at her fingertip.
Drip. Drip.
Each droplet that fell onto the desk didn't soak in — instead, they held their shape.
One by one, they merged and took the form of a small bird.
Crack.
Rosalia whispered a spell into the little construct, freezing it with a flash of pale frost.
The ice bird fluttered up and flew out the window, vanishing into the night.
Then she stood and turned toward her masterpiece.
A five-meter-wide sphere of ice, covered from end to end with runes and magic circles — the culmination of her life's research.
As she infused mana into it, the carvings glowed faintly, and a chill filled the air.
"My research… wrong?"
This wasn't just research. It was her life's work.
Her pride — and her family's.
It could not be flawed. It must not be.
The crystal, the auxiliary orb — she checked them all, again and again.
Time passed, and night fell.
Knock, knock.
Visitors.
"It's open."
"You've been re-examining everything, I see."
The door opened, and in walked the man responsible for her current irritation — calm and composed as always.
"Yes."
She brushed her hand against the surface of the ice sphere. The familiar, pleasant chill tingled against her skin.
"I've checked and rechecked for hours."
Still—
"I found nothing unusual. Are you sure about what you said?"
"Perhaps. May I take a look?"
She nodded.
Fernand, Aint, and Jace examined the intricate web of runes and circles.
"I can't make sense of it either," Jace admitted.
"So?"
"But I never said I'd be the one to find it."
"That's true," she said.
All eyes turned toward one person.
Aint gave a nervous chuckle.
"Uh… what happens if I can't find anything?"
"Then I'll look like an idiot who lied to the professor — and I'll have to double her research funding."
"…You sure you trust me that much, senior?"
"I do."
"No, I mean—"
"I said I trust you."
Fernand's unwavering tone left Aint speechless. He turned to face the massive ice construct.
— Plant me in it. Then we'll know for sure.
Got it.
Aint gripped his pendant-shaped sword and moved to place it against the surface—
"…Stop! What do you think you're doing?!"
A wave of freezing air surged forward, locking Aint's upper body in solid ice.
Only his reflexive aura saved him from being completely frozen, but even then, he couldn't move.
"I—I was just going to use this as a conduit, to check more precisely—!"
"That sphere is covered in thousands of complex magical formulas and circuits. If even one is damaged, this becomes worthless.
If that happens, I'll see you expelled, no matter what it takes — on the honor of the Vienderk name."
Her voice was a snarl of fury.
Aint froze (figuratively this time) under her glare.
"Uh…"
He turned helplessly toward Fernand. Fernand gave a small nod — permission to not push it further.
Aint swallowed and instead brought the sword close to the sphere without touching it.
"…I'll begin."
He closed his eyes.
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