Chapter 58: Helping Christopher (1)
It was already 5:00 PM, and the late afternoon sun was beginning its dramatic descent. Lucian was still in the park, finding a moment of genuine solitude that was rare for him. He rested against the rough, thick bark of an ancient oak tree, his gaze fixed on the skies as they turned a brilliant, vivid orange and deep, molten gold—the signature colors of sunset in this part of the empire.
"It's beautiful," he mused, the thought barely a whisper in his mind. The beauty of the scene was profound, especially when compared to the concrete jungle of his first life on Earth or the endless, bloody chaos of his transmigrated existences. "In my past lives, I didn't have time to appreciate it because of work when I was still on Earth, buried under mountains of code and deadlines. Then, because of the plot of the stories in my first transmigration, I was too busy trying to keep up with the narrative to notice the details. And lastly, I was too busy attaining true immortality when I was Seonin—the relentless, boring pursuit of power."
He remembered the vast, cold emptiness of true power. When he was a Seonin, achieving a level of strength that could shatter stars, he had thought he had everything. But that life was sterile, consumed by meditation, training, and the detached observation of lesser beings. There was no simple joy, no sharp taste of a fresh apple, no genuine human connection—only the pursuit of the next epoch of existence.
"But now?" Lucian took a slow, deep breath, letting the scent of crushed grass and cooling earth fill his lungs. "I should appreciate the beauty of nature and the skies a little more. Maybe I will even become a stargazer who loves gazing the stars, just for the quiet peace of it all."
The truth was, this simple, 'low-level' life in the academy felt more real than anything he had experienced as an immortal. It had a pulse, it had stakes, and most importantly, it had the capacity for connection—and restoration. The spark of emotion that Silvie and Vennie had reignited was precious, and he was finally learning to protect it, not just to hide it.
Lucian straightened up, brushing leaves from his uniform. The time for peaceful contemplation was over. He had a task to complete.
"I should go to the music room already. Even though I'm already done preparing the necessary arrangements—the soundproofing checks, the emergency exit locks, the anti-scrying wards—I just need to double check everything one last time."
{Do you have OCD, my lord?} The Wraith King's voice, now a familiar mental intrusion, carried a genuine note of confusion. It had clearly been trawling Lucian's Earth memories again.
'Where did you learn that ridiculous term?!' Lucian mentally barked back, genuinely startled by the use of the acronym.
{From a section of your memories labeled 'psychological disorders.' It seems to describe a pattern of excessive checking and fixation on order, a pattern you exhibit when executing any complex plan, such as preparing for a friendly date distraction.}
'Also, I don't have OCD for Christ's sake! I have high-level survival instinct combined with the professional standard of a man who dealt with world-ending threats! I'm checking to ensure that the most paranoid, magically powerful siscon professor in the entire empire doesn't discover the truth! It's called being thorough!'
{I'm sorry, I misspoke, my lord,} the Wraith King replied, sounding chastened.
'It's alright. Just don't call me that. I'm not a fucking perfectionist because I am not. I'm simply avoiding being disintegrated by a woman who sees me as a threat to her sister's eternal singleness.'
{Understood, my lord. I shall label it: 'High-Level Preparatory Caution against Magical Siscon Threats.'}
'Much better,' Lucian sighed, standing fully.
Lucian proceeded to walk out of the park and towards the Academy's expansive west wing, where the music rooms were located. As he walked, he fell deep into thought about what music sheet he should use for the grand piano. He had to be convincing, not just to Marice, but to the professional musicians and teachers who might be listening.
'Should I play 'Love Story' or 'Golden Brown'? One is romantic and simple, the other is atmospheric and complex. Given the goal is emotional sincerity and simplicity for Christopher's benefit, not technical flash…'
'Hmmmmmmm...'
''Love Story' it is then,' he finally decided. The Taylor Swift song from Earth—simple, heartfelt, and known for its emotional purity. It was a song that spoke of lost connection and an enduring promise, perfectly mirroring his own complex feelings for Seoryeon, and now, the confusing, exhilarating possibility of a new beginning with Silvie and Vennie. The notes were easy, the feeling was everything.
As Lucian neared the building, still lost in the melodic structure of the song, he accidentally saw Professor Randy walking in the opposite direction. Professor Randy, who taught Military Tactics and Logistics, was one of the few faculty members who had ever shown Lucian true, unconditional kindness—the only one, perhaps, besides the Headmaster (whose favor was transactional).
"Good afternoon, Professor," Lucian greeted, stopping and offering a genuine, polite nod—a rarity for him.
Professor Randy, a kindly man with warm, tired eyes and a perpetually rumpled tweed jacket, stopped and returned the greeting with a smile.
"Good afternoon, lot. It seems you enjoy looking at the skies. What did you find so fascinating, lot?"
Lucian replied, his usual guard dropping slightly. "Everything, Professor. The skies are always beautiful, no matter the color. Watching the transition from day to night gives a simple sense of peace."
Professor Randy let out a soft chuckle. "I agree, lot. A fine sentiment. But you should stop looking up before you accidentally bump someone! Hahahaha."
Lucian allowed himself a slight, almost imperceptible smirk. "There's no need to worry, Professor. I have a high keen of sense, a sort of advanced precognition, that's why there's no way I would accidentally bump someone."
Professor Randy looked on Lucian, his smile softening into a look of deep, familiar concern. He knew Lucian spoke the truth—the young man was an unnerving talent—but he also heard the underlying, almost desolate tone in his voice. Randy just sighed and agreed, not wanting to press him.
"Alright, take care of yourself, lot, and goodbye."
"Goodbye, Professor, and thank you for everything," Lucian said, the final words carrying a heavy, unexpected weight of gratitude and sorrow.
Lucian then continued his walk, disappearing into the shadows of the university buildings.
Professor Randy stood still for a moment, confused by the strange formality of that goodbye. Thank you for everything? They had only exchanged pleasantries. He turned back, wanting to ask Lucian what he meant by that, but Lucian was already far away, swallowed by the distance.
"Sigh," Randy muttered to himself, feeling a familiar ache of worry. "That lot is really weird. Always silent, always competent, but I know he is in pain. I just hope he finds happiness. That lot is still a child, and yet it seems he saw a war and witnessed losing someone he loved in the most terrible way. He carries the weight of a thousand-year-old soul."
Professor Randy was still worried about Lucian, but he couldn't do anything more than help him by being on his side and giving his all-utmost help to heal Lucian emotionally. He made a silent promise: he would support Lucian in any way he could.
"I just hope he will change and recover what he lost soon enough," the professor whispered, before finally turning and continuing his own path.
---
Lucian felt the heat of Professor Randy's worry even after he had left. The Wraith King immediately picked up on the sudden spike in Lucian's emotional volatility.
{Why did you say that, my lord? You spoke as if you were saying a final farewell. It's unnerving.}
'I just want to say thanks to him because of him, in the original timeline, I still persisted to not give up the first time I was killed,' Lucian confessed internally, the gratitude mingling sharply with rage. 'But I still lost him.'
'Because of that damn Emperor's brother, Prince Victor, he is one of the reasons why my favorite professor die. Professor Randy was a good man, loyal to the Empire but innocent of the power struggles. Victor, in his ruthless pursuit of a false flag operation, had Randy killed as an expendable piece of collateral damage, knowing Randy was the only one who might be capable of uncovering the truth of the Prince's conspiracy.'
{Relax, my lord, you are exuding your killing intent,} the Wraith King cautioned, the mental warning vibrating like a plucked wire. The intensity of Lucian's suppressed rage was enough to cause minor spatial distortions around his bracelet.
Lucian realized the danger of his distraction. He was spilling raw power. He immediately suppressed the killing intent, forcing the chaotic energy back into the confines of his spiritual core. He sighed deeply.
'I'm sorry for being impulsive. You're right. I should be more cautious and more smart about my surroundings. That's the kind of mistake that gets me caught by the Goddess of Fate.'
'I just hope in this life I won't lose him. Professor Randy is one of the very few good anchors I have left in this world. Victor will pay for every sin, including that one.'
Lucian finally arrived at the music room—a large, opulent chamber reserved for high-level student practice. He unlocked the heavy, padded door and stepped inside. The room smelled faintly of aged wood, polished brass, and the lingering, sweet scent of oil used to treat the instruments. It was a perfect sanctuary.
He walked over to the centerpiece: a massive, gleaming black grand piano.
'Still beautiful as ever,' he thought, tracing the cool, smooth finish of the piano lid. 'When will the club recruitment happen? I can't wait to become the vice president. It's the perfect, publicly sanctioned excuse for my constant presence here, and a great way to meet a few low-level students who could be useful later.'
Lucian then sat down on the bench and gently touched the keyboard. He didn't begin playing "Love Story" yet. Instead, he just played a series of random arpeggios and chords to test the instrument and ensure there were no errors in the mechanism. The sound was pure, clear, and resonant, bouncing off the strategically placed wooden panels on the walls. It was in perfect condition.
After he was sure that all in all were good, Lucian reached into his pocket and pulled out another bright red berry he had picked from the park, popping it into his mouth.
'Still yummy as ever. I really don't get tired eating berries and apples. A Seonin could subsist on pure mana, but nothing beats the simple, complex taste of a real fruit.'
Lucian was still eating berries when he remembered the conversation he'd had with the Wraith King earlier.
'Hey, Wraith King. You've learned my language already, and all the information from Earth that the guy who called me "other half" collected. Since that's the case, can you tell me a few more jokes to cure my boredom? You need to work on your comedic timing.'
MUNCH.
MUNCH.
{Sigh, fine. If this joke is bad, don't blame me, alright? My source material is limited to the 'Bad Dad Jokes' folder in your Earth memories, mixed with anime and game references.}
'Sure, go ahead. I'm ready.'
{Want to know the best choice for the 3-star voucher in the mobile game Umamusume?}
'Sure, who?' Lucian asked, genuinely curious about the obscure game he barely remembered playing.
{Choose Oguri. No cap, she's the peak choice for both grinding and racing. Highly optimized meta pick for beginners who need a strong all-arounder. It's a very tactical, highly technical recommendation for an idle hero simulator.}
Lucian stopped chewing. He stared at the bracelet on his wrist, which housed the ancient spirit, and felt a profound mix of cringing and revulsion.
'That's a terrible joke, Wraith King. And I bet you copied it from Symboli Rudolf's awful jokes. That's not a joke; that's just highly specific, outdated gaming advice! The humor relies on knowing the current meta, which I don't! The tension and punchline are nonexistent!'
{As I said, I'm terrible on it, my lord. I am a being of ancient shadow and death, not comedy,} the Wraith King defended itself, though there was a hint of digital hurt in its mental tone.
'Seriously, is the only humor you learned from Rudolf? The character known for her terrible puns?'
{Yep.}
'Tf you mean "yep"?! That's infuriating! Ugh. Hah, just never mind it. It just brings down my mood. I'll just look at the ceiling and contemplate the lack of funny beings in the cosmos.' Lucian tipped his head back, staring up at the elaborate wooden structure.
{How about you try to play a random music, my lord? I wanna hear you playing piano again. It usually calms your nerves. Forget the plan for a moment.}
'Nope,' Lucian replied instantly.
{Tf you mean nope—} The Wraith King cut itself off, realizing Lucian had used its own irritated phrase against it. It fell silent, apparently sulking, the massive, millennia-old entity now reduced to the mental equivalent of a pout.
Lucian, still looking on the ceiling, felt a strange, quiet peace—even though, if the others saw him, they would call him weird and crazy for a person of his stature.
The quiet was luxurious. It gave him time to process the conflicting truths of his existence: the simple humanity Randy saw, the cosmic madness Valkorion embodied, and the complicated, reviving love that Silvie and Vennie represented. He was a puzzle of a man, and for the first time, he felt like he had the chance to put the pieces back together, instead of simply destroying the board.
'Just what time is it?'
Lucian looked down at his watch, the metal cool against his skin. It was already 6:15 of the evening. Just another 15 minutes left before Christopher and Marice arrived, and the drama began.
Lucian sighed, closing his eyes. "Let's just wait for them to arrive, then." The fate of Christopher's heart, and the safety of Lucian's own newfound peace, rested on the successful performance of 'Love Story.'