Chapter 60: Helping Christopher (End)
The final, resonant chord of Lucian's piano performance faded into the grand music room, leaving a charged, breathless silence in its wake. The only illumination came from the massive, arched window, bathing the scene in a soft, ethereal moonlight.
Christopher, still kneeling on the hardwood floor, looked up at Marice with an expression of terrified anticipation. He had expected her to be angry because he had lied to her—because he had manipulated her into believing his friend was injured just to orchestrate this dramatic proposal. But instead of anger, he saw a woman completely shocked—a state that quickly melted into one of profound, radiant happiness.
She stood there, clutching her hands to her chest, her ocean-blue eyes wide, and finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke. Her voice was slightly shaky, a frantic, high-pitched breath expelled from the sheer force of the surprise, but the word she spoke was everything Christopher had ever dreamed of.
"YES!"
It wasn't a hesitant whisper; it was a joyful shout that seemed to absorb the moonlight and amplify it. She took a quick, decisive step forward.
"Yes, I would be happy to be your partner, Christopher! And thank you for this hard work you did just to offer a date with me. I understand why you had to lie; my sister is impossible."
Marice was still blushing, but she wasn't looking at him with embarrassment; she was looking at him with open affection.
Christopher was utterly, completely shocked. He had prepared for rejection. He had rehearsed the graceful nod, the wounded but polite smile, the retreat into quiet sadness. He had prepared for everything but this moment of pure, overwhelming victory. To think he had not just achieved a date, but had hit the jackpot—she had agreed to be his partner at the Crown Prince's ball, an event that was basically a debutante's coming-out.
The sudden rush of emotion was too much. He cried, he laughed happily, and then he scrambled up from his kneeling position and hugged Marice tightly, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair. The tears weren't of sadness; they were of overwhelming, disbelieving joy. He held her as if she were the most precious, fragile treasure in the universe.
"Thank you, thank you," he stammered into her shoulder, repeating the words like a mantra.
He finally pulled back, clutching her hands in his own, his eyes red and glistening. He gently let go of her hands to cup her face, his thumbs wiping the tiny, joyful tears that had sprung to her eyes.
But before he could say another word, Marice, now the picture of confidence, reached up, touched the back of his head with her soft, warm hand, and kissed him.
It was a soft, chaste kiss at first, the gentle confirmation of their mutual feeling. Christopher, still dazed, responded immediately, his own latent feelings exploding into life.
From the corner of the room, seated perfectly still at the grand piano, Lucian watched the spectacle. His lips curled into a dry, internal smile.
'Damn, that lucky mfking bastard,' Lucian thought, feeling a momentary pang of envy, not for the girl, but for the simplicity and immediacy of that pure, unguarded love. 'He skipped the entire dating phase and went straight to true love. The ultimate romantic cheat code.'
Marice, pulling away only slightly, her forehead resting against Christopher's, spoke the words that cemented the victory.
"All of my life, you are the only one I love, Christopher."
Christopher was genuinely stunned now. He had assumed his feelings were unrequited for years. Before he could formulate a response, Marice continued, her voice soft but filled with years of secret longing.
"The only reason why I hid it was because I was so shy around you, even when we were still children. Also, because of my incredibly overprotective older sister, who scared away anyone who came near me. And honestly, I really thought you had no feelings for me, that I was just being foolish."
Christopher reached up, touching her lips gently, then cupped her face again, his heart soaring, his confusion finally dissolving. "That's not true! I—I have had feelings for you since we were kids, Marice! You were the first person who gave me this warm feeling through my heart that I wholly embraced, and I didn't regret a single moment of it. I'm glad we have the same feelings on each other, and that we finally found the courage to speak them."
With the final, earnest declaration, Christopher leaned in, and they kissed each other passionately under the moonlight. The moment was absolute, a perfect fusion of years of unspoken affection.
Lucian, still watching, felt the warmth of their moment but also the chill of memory. Their kiss was so genuine, so pure, that it ripped his consciousness back to his past life as the Seonin, standing with the woman who had loved him unconditionally.
'I still remember what she said before. Her words are etched on my very soul,' Lucian thought, the memory of his beloved Seoryeon piercing through the noise. '"Seonin-ah… don't forget. Even demons can love."'
Just as the moment reached its peak—the beautiful confirmation of two young hearts colliding—the air outside the music room fractured.
BOOM!
The sound was not a simple door-slam, but an explosion of raw magical energy. The heavy, reinforced mahogany door of the music room was ripped from its hinges, smashing inward with the force of a battering ram, narrowly missing the piano.
Standing silhouetted against the bright, hallway lights, her face contorted in a mask of absolute, incandescent rage, was Professor Clarice. She looked utterly terrifying, her ocean-blue eyes glowing with uncontrolled magical power.
"I KNEW IT! YOU TRICKED ME, CHRISTOPHER DAVENSON!!!" she shrieked, her voice echoing off the high ceiling, sounding more like a predatory beast than an academy professor.
She didn't hesitate. She hurrily invoked a spell, an instantaneous manifestation of hostile energy directed squarely at Christopher.
Marice, startled out of the kiss, immediately put herself in front of Christopher, trying desperately to intercede.
"Sis, please! Christopher didn't do anything! And—"
Marice spun back to Christopher, her face still flushed with the joy of their confession, and declared the truth that Clarice simply could not accept.
"We loved each other! He didn't trick me; he only tricked you to give me a chance!"
Clarice's eyes bulged, her anger now mixing with profound emotional pain and denial.
"I will not allow you to date a damn musclehead like him! He is not suitable for you! He is incapable of discussing high-level sorcery or celestial mechanics! He is nothing but a privileged, common noble!" she screamed, her voice breaking with the intensity of her siscon madness.
She stepped over the destroyed door, advancing into the room, magical energy visibly crackling around her fists.
"I WILL NOT ALLOW IT! I WILL NOT ALLOW A DAMN GUY LIKE YOU TO DATE AN INNOCENT SISTER OF MINE!"
Clarice aimed her hand and fired a concentrated bolt of fiery, dark magic—a 5th tier Flame Bolt—a spell meant to vaporize flesh and bone, not just deter a student. It was proof of the depths of her uncontrolled, protective fury.
Marice, despite her fear, immediately put her hands up, trying to shield Christopher with her small frame, but her voice was frantic.
"Christopher, run! I will try to stop my sister, just run, please! You can't fight her!"
But Christopher did something Lucian had not anticipated. Christopher, the simple, kind-hearted student who was usually easily cowed, shook his head. He didn't run. He gently but firmly moved Marice behind him, putting his own body between her and the raging spellcaster. He cupped Marice's face one last time, his eyes filled with a new, steel-hard resolve.
"There's no way I would abandon my beautiful girlfriend," he vowed, his voice steady despite the terrifying magical power barreling toward them.
Christopher stood tall, a simple but brave human shield, and faced the terrifying professor. He didn't have magic, but he had something Clarice didn't: genuine love.
"If you are in my way—our love between your sister and me!—then I would not hesitate to beat you to a pulp and prove you I am worthy to be her partner in life and her boyfriend! I will not back down!"
Clarice, hearing the threat and the sheer audacity of the young man, was infuriated past the point of rational thought. "You damn musclehead! You pathetic, insolent commoner!" she howled, pushing the energy in the Flame Bolt to its absolute limit.
Christopher closed his eyes, ready to die just for Marice's sake. Marice frantically begged him to get out of the way. The fiery 5th tier Flame Bolt was only feet away, a concentrated ball of destructive magical fire.
BOOOOM!
The spell hit, but not Christopher.
The entire room shook violently. The beautiful grand piano was hurled into the far wall, splintering into hundreds of pieces. Wooden chairs, music stands, and sheet music exploded into shrapnel. The entire music room was instantly engulfed in chaos. The beautiful, carefully prepared set for the surprise was destroyed.
But instead of Christopher being engulfed in flames from the Flame Bolt, he was unscathed and was not hurt. A shimmering, flowing saber of silver energy had materialized in front of him, intercepting the 5th-tier spell and absorbing its destructive force, only to dissipate an instant later.
Standing perfectly calm in front of Christopher and Marice, his hand slightly raised from where he had projected the defensive spell, was Lucian.
"Damn, you really destroyed the whole Music Room, Professor," Lucian said, his voice flat with genuine disappointment. He then materialized the flowing saber into his hands—a construct of pure, focused mana that looked like a curved, elegant blade of light.
"I was really disappointed, and here I thought you really care about art and music," Lucian continued, gesturing with the saber toward the splintered remains of the priceless instruments. "That was a very expensive piano, you know. I had planned to play on that for years."
Clarice's mind, consumed by fury, finally registered Lucian's presence. She barely knew he was there, hidden in the shadows of the piano bench.
"This is not between you and me, Lucian! Get out of my way, or you will experience how powerful and scary I am!" she snarled, her voice a mix of warning and genuine threat. She knew Lucian was powerful, but her rage blinded her to the fact that he had just casually blocked her high-tier spell.
Lucian ignored her, looking instead at the terrified but unharmed couple behind him. "I'm glad both of you are alright. Just find a place to hide. I got this."
Christopher, still overwhelmed by the danger, asked the obvious question. "Are you sure, Lucian? She's insane! She's a Seventh Class Level mage!"
Lucian didn't look back. He just gave one simple, single word, heavy with command.
"Go."
Christopher immediately grabbed Marice, understanding the implicit order. They were of no use here. Christopher, now fiercely protective, guided Marice out of the music room and into the hallway, using a secondary, warded service exit that Lucian had prepared earlier. They hurried off, disappearing from sight.
Lucian finally turned back to the raging Professor, his face cold, his silver eyes locked on her glowing blue ones.
"And," Lucian said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "It is between us, Professor. Christopher is my buddy, my only true friend in this entire miserable school. So, I won't let you get out of their way on their love life. If you want to stop their romance, you have to go through me."
Clarice, realizing she had been completely and utterly tricked by Lucian and Christopher, and now facing the boy who had just insulted her art (by destroying the music room) and her sister (by loving her), exploded in a final, climactic burst of rage.
"Fine, if you wanted to die so early, Lucian Azrael Von Blackstar!" Clarice roared, finally using his full name.
The surrounding mana in the room didn't just crackle—it screamed. Clarice began invoking a level of spell far beyond the 5th tier. She was going straight for a 7th-tier Destruction Spell. The sheer power of the magic began tearing at the very foundation of the academy building.
Around her hands, three colossal circles of crimson light materialized, rotating in terrifying synchronization. Inside each circle, the signature runes of an apocalyptic spell—three independent 7th-tier Flame Bolts—began to form, drawing energy from the air, the floor, and the broken pieces of wood.
Lucian looked at the sheer, uncontrolled power of the incoming attack, his mind instantly running damage calculations. He couldn't just brush off three consecutive 7th-tier spells; it was too much concentrated firepower, even for a Demon God in recovery.
A single, dry thought escaped his lips.
"I'm fucked," he admitted internally, the simplicity of the phrase an acknowledgment of the catastrophic danger he was in.
Clarice smiled, a terrifying, beautiful smile of pure, murderous intent.
"I hope you are ready to die, Blackstar."
The three crimson circles roared to life, ready to unleash a destructive torrent that would not just kill Lucian, but level the entire west wing of the academy. Lucian raised his mana-saber, bracing for the inevitable collision.