The basement of the Magic Tower. In the interrogation room of the disciplinary committee, where the chill air gnawed at the skin like teeth.
Here, where the university's tower enforced its rules, seven seats of committee members oversaw the punishment of mages. The accused sat beyond the "invisible glass," awaiting judgment.
"Why did those two fight?"
"We do not yet know."
The first seat—the head position—belonged to the Chairman, and I sat in the second seat beside her, gazing at the pair beyond the glass.
"Why not?"
"...We did not ask."
"Oh, right."
Ifrin, referred to the committee, fidgeted with her fingers while keeping her head bowed. Beside her, Sylvia remained composed and serene.
The incident stemmed entirely from their quarrel.
Yet Sylvia was the successor of the Illayde family, while Ifrin was a noble in name only, without even a territory. The committee's verdict was thus all too predictable.
"Ah~ Chairman, Professor Deculein. You're already here."
The door opened, and the committee members arrived one by one.
The plump man grinning slyly was Rellin from the auxiliary department.
"...To have such an incident from the very first class. Truly regrettable, Professor Deculein."
The gaunt man who bowed his head first was Professor Retran from the spirit studies department. The robed figure saying nothing was likely Professor Fezli in charge of the dormitories, and the rest.
Thus, all seven gathered.
"Tsk, tsk. Who does that weirdo think she is, messing with this year's rookie mage?"
Rellin glared at Ifrin the moment he sat. Retran wore a similar look.
"Indeed. She looks like some uneducated trash who hasn't even passed through the academy."
Fortunately, those words didn't reach Ifrin. We could see her, but she couldn't see us.
"Still, I heard Professor Deculein handled it well."
Rellin eyed me slyly. I had no energy to respond to his flattery.
It wasn't that I didn't want to—I was utterly exhausted.
Even now, I clung to consciousness through sheer willpower.
I had depleted all my mana—no, squeezed out even more—to avert disaster. If anyone had been hurt, it would have spelled trouble for me as the responsible professor.
"Exactly~ I might have slightly underestimated Professor Deculein! But our professor is a Monarch rank mage! Even hundreds of debutantes couldn't touch him!"
"Most astute observation!"
The Chairman and Rellin chattered on. I silently fixed my gaze on Ifrin.
Naturally, my brow furrowed.
"...Even so, Professor Deculein. Do not be too angry. I shall handle it."
Rellin mistook my expression for fury, but that wasn't it.
From the huddled Ifrin emanated a strange aura. Red and black, like ominous steam spreading outward.
I had furrowed my brow to examine the phenomenon closely.
If my suspicions were correct, it was the manifestation of another trait, visible only to me through the trait Flesh Eye: Villain's Fate.
☠ Villain's Fate ☠
Rank
???
Description
Villain's Fate. The entire world desires his death.
Yet trials one cannot slay only make a human stronger...
The whole world desires my death.
That predestined malice—the "death variable" that Ifrin would someday kill me—was now clearly revealed through Flesh Eye...
"Well then, now that we're all here, let us commence the disciplinary hearing for debutante mage Ifrin and Sylvia!"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
—No, how dare you brawl in a classroom? With magic, no less?! If not for Professor Deculein, someone could have been hurt, you ignorant fool!
The hearing was heated from the start.
Beyond the glass, only silhouettes were visible, but Ifrin knew that voice and build.
Professor Rellin.
He had seemed so kind in yesterday's class, but anger turned him terrifying.
—So, what was the reason for the fight?
Rellin demanded. Ifrin glanced sideways at Sylvia.
That bitch insulted my dad.
No, did she?
Not outright. But with Deculein beside Rellin, she couldn't say a word anyway.
...Even without him, she wouldn't have spoken.
Not about her father.
To no one.
Least of all as an excuse to dodge punishment.
"I cannot say."
—What?! You mocking me?!
Rellin's face twisted.
"No. It's just—"
—Then speak! Why did you fight? Jealousy?!
Ifrin clamped her mouth shut and bowed her head. Rellin grumbled, then turned to Sylvia.
—Sylvia. Then you tell us.
"During class, I accidentally broke that girl's work. It led to an argument."
—What? And you caused all this over that? It's entirely that brute's fault. Hey, you got anger issues or something? Some nameless trash...
Ifrin clenched her fists. Blood filled her mouth. She'd bitten her lip or tongue too hard.
—Chairman, no need to deliberate further. A mage preemptively attacking another mage. Expulsion! Straight to expulsion! That's the kind of character those 'Ash Heap' types have!
The term for the rebel mages' den—the most infamous slur in the magical world.
Ash Heap.
Ifrin let out a hollow smile.
Ah, if I get expelled here, maybe I'll just go there.
—Hmm... Is that so? Well, it seems decided. Professor Deculein? No words from you~? It was your class, after all.
The Chairman called the name of the man Ifrin hated most: Deculein.
His gaze pierced from beyond the glass, and Ifrin's heart thudded heavily.
Whether he knew her or not, resignation was all that remained.
—As chief professor of this tower and member of this committee, I, Deculein,
It felt like plummeting into a deep, dark well—drowning alive in agony...
—ask you, Sylvia.
But something was off.
For some reason, the interrogation targeted not her, but Sylvia.
—Have you no fault in this incident?
"...?"
Ifrin, sinking to the bottom, jerked her head up and blinked. Sylvia's lips trembled in confusion.
—I merely ask. Do you truly bear no blame for this incident?
An unexpected turn. Question marks ballooned in Ifrin's mind.
Deculein attacking me too? Why suddenly Sylvia?
Wait, is he, as Yukline, checking the Illayde successor?
But why? Everyone sees it's my fault—why force it like this?
—Sylvia. You surely could have prevented this.
Deculein's characteristic cool, direct voice.
—Yet you did not. Did you wait for the mana to explode and injure someone?
A faint crack appeared on Sylvia's face.
The thick ice mask from their first meeting... was slowly shattering.
—Or was your much-vaunted skill truly so meager?
The crack swiftly collapsed. She bowed her head to hide her bitten lip.
"I apologize. I could have stopped it but did not. It was my wicked wish for Ifrin the mage's fault to grow greater."
And she admitted her wrong outright.
"Huh?"
A dumb sound escaped Ifrin's lips.
The barely coherent situation dissolved into chaos again.
Why's she doing that? She could have stopped it but didn't?
—B-but, Professor Deculein. The one who defended isn't at fault, right? The attacker is.
Rellin interjected desperately. Deculein tilted his head slightly, glaring at him.
—If you wish to parse precedence so finely, then this situation stems entirely from my error in structuring the lecture. Do you blame me, Professor Rellin?
—Pardon? N-no. Not at all. I didn't mean—
—Speak plainly.
His firm, resonant voice echoed through the room. Ifrin and Sylvia swallowed unwittingly.
Click, clack. Cowed by his presence, Rellin clacked his teeth before shaking his head stammeringly.
—...Of course not. I merely meant it was regrettable—
—I set that environment for the lecture's purpose and gave no specific instructions within it. Thus, even if a quarrel arose, it could be deemed part of my class.
Sophistry.
Yet the professors, crushed by Deculein's authority, dared no rebuttal. The Chairman, who could have opposed him, merely watched with amusement.
—Thus, calling it regrettable insults my lecture, though I concede it led to danger.
At this point,
no matter how hard she thought, how much she denied, how incomprehensible his intent,
Ifrin could not deny it.
Deculein—
that Deculein... was defending her.
—Yet if we banish all danger from magic, what remains? They are mere debutantes, newly entered the tower.
Whether Deculein knew her father or not, she had braced for expulsion.
The Deculein she knew would have ensured it.
Ifrin gazed at him, feeling an inexplicable emotion.
—Rather than quibbling over meaningless rights and wrongs, intimidating and breaking spirits, it is the duty of great mages to let such situations occur within the tower and teach 'depth of experience' to maintain dignity outside. What say you, Professor Rellin?
—...Oh, oh my~! Precisely right! As expected of Professor Deculein! Even I am utterly convinced~!
—"Well said."
The professors agreed. With Deculein so assertive, who could disagree?
Deculein was a highborn Yukline count even without his professorship; they were nothing without theirs.
Clap, clap, clap—the incongruous applause filled the room. One might mistake it for a concert hall.
—Hmm~ You're right. Reminds me of old times. I nearly got suspended once because of some professor.
The Chairman chuckled indifferently and nodded.
—Well then... what are you two still doing? Go on.
"...Pardon?"
Dazed, Ifrin blurted without thinking who spoke.
—Pardon?~ You heard everything. No punishment. Kids like you grow by fighting~! But no mercy next time!
Sylvia shot to her feet and left without a backward glance.
But not Ifrin. She stared blankly beyond the glass.
—Alright, let's go! I thought it a waste of time, but I'm glad to see Professor Deculein cherishes his new mages!
Before the frozen Ifrin, the professors rose and departed one by one.
Ifrin, sitting stunned and watching, snapped to and shouted.
"...Wait!"
The others merely glanced, ignoring her. Only one silhouette turned.
The one presumed to be Deculein.
Ifrin spoke to him.
"I have a question!"
—...Ha.
A faint laugh, barely audible.
Utterly captivating—but she mustn't feel it so.
—That lecture hall then... it was you.
Ifrin flinched. Fear surged instantly. Her lips dried.
But she pressed on undaunted.
"...I want to ask."
Ifrin wanted to ask.
Did he remember the Luna name? Did he know her father? The man who toiled under him his whole life and took his own three years ago.
"That..."
But...
If she asked that...
He might...
...To the hesitating Ifrin,
Deculein simply cut her off.
—No need to ask.
In that instant, Ifrin jolted awake. A chill stabbed her crown like icicle.
—You are jade amid stone. Waste not your talent on your own.
He left those words behind.
This time, she couldn't stop him.
"..."
The empty interrogation room.
Alone, replaying Deculein's words, Ifrin became certain.
He knew.
He knew her.
He knew her father.
Thus, this was mere pity. A sliver of sympathy.
Feeling a tiny responsibility for her father's death... he had helped her thus.
"Ah..."
Ifrin burned with rage and twisted resentment, yet grieved her inability to refuse that pity, confused... and ultimately relieved.
"You knew."
That was enough.
If he knew,
hadn't forgotten,
that sufficed for now.
"Hup!"
Wiping tears from her eyes, blowing her reddened nose vigorously, Ifrin left the room.
...Meanwhile.
Turning away, Deculein swallowed a sigh of relief.
✦ Villain's Fate: Death Variable Overcome ✦
Shop Currency +2
I had successfully eliminated the death variable and gained shop currency.
Siding with Ifrin had been the right choice.
Of course, things had twisted slightly against my will. Sylvia might now harbor grudge against me from this.
I'd planned to gloss over it with textbook morality—"both at fault, yet neither truly"—but hadn't expected Sylvia to admit her wrong so readily.
What could be done? Extinguish the fire on my foot first.
Thanks to that, both escaped punishment unscathed—a decent outcome.
"There must have been a better way..."
Regret lingered nonetheless. Due to Deculein's pointless perfectionism, and how Understanding didn't apply to human relations.
But Deculein soon adopted Kim Woojin's mindset, shook it off, and left the room.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
...Sylvia sat on a bench in the campus courtyard, pondering. Eyes closed in silence, she rewound the incident from three hours ago in her mind.
Then, she had "clearly" nullified Ifrin's attacking mana. But in its place, she planted her own trap spell.
The cunningly altered magic swirled as if born from their mana's clash. Indeed, designed to react only to Ifrin's mana.
Of course, not enough to cause injury—and if so, the Illayde wealth would have covered it.
Thus, the sole victim:
Ifrin Luna alone...
"He knew."
Deculein had known—blatantly. He had pierced her scheme from the start.
Thus, instead of the truth—"that spell was your doing, Sylvia"—he twisted it to "you failed to stop it, Sylvia."
In that fleeting moment, Deculein had demanded her submission.
An ultimatum she could not refuse.
"How..."
Sylvia's sole question was "how."
She was certain no magical surveillance in that classroom. She had grasped and manipulated everything meticulously beforehand.
Thus, Deculein had pierced the entire truth through mere insight and intellect—an absurdity...
Honk, honk—!
The horn shattered her deduction. Sylvia looked. A car idled at the roadside.
The window rolled down, revealing a familiar face.
"There you are, dear."
Blond hair and golden eyes like Sylvia's. The Illayde head, who bore the prestigious magical lineage most vividly—a high mage of Esprit rank, and Sylvia's proud father.
Gilteon von Ludwig Illayde.
"I heard everything. Hop in."
"...Okay."
Sylvia trudged to her father's car and got in.