New.

Someone was standing amongst the crowd.

A woman wearing a white outfit.

"Who are you?" I said.

As I began to look closer, it was indeed a woman's figure.

Golden-blonde hair and green eyes that glowed from her hood.

"No, it seems I am mistaken. You are indeed human."

She turned away and walked slowly. Deliberately. No one else seemed to notice her.

My feet moved before I could think. "Hey—!" I pushed past a merchant. "Wait!"

She didn't look back. She turned a corner between two crumbling marble archways, the light rippling behind her like heat on stone.

I followed.

And found…

Nothing.

No crowd.

No plaza.

Just a narrow, curved alleyway, thick with mist and silence. 

Mana drifted in veins through the wall, glowing gently like a pulse.

Perhaps it was some sort of illusion?

I stepped forward into the mist. Anxiety filled my being as I began entering it without much time to think.

Inside the endless mist, I walked aimlessly for what felt like 2 minutes until I finally found something at the end of it.

A lone wooden door.

Runes etched with silver and light shimmered in the air, forming concentric denial rings. My mana stirred again, pulsed.

I reached for the handle, not knowing why.

To my surprise...

The door unlocked without resistance.

No click, no creak—just a shimmer of light.

Like stepping into a place untouched by time or memory.

The door hissed shut behind me with a soft magnetic click.

The noise of the city district was suddenly gone—the street hawkers, the hover carts sputtering by, the crowd chatter laced with mana-gossip. All of it faded in an instant as if a magic, deafening field was erected.

Cool air flowed through this room, which had a polished floor, and white light hummed gently from seamless panels set into the ceiling.

I stood inside a shop resembling a private research lab disguised as a minimalist boutique. 

To be honest, the infrastructure resembles that of a modernized inhabited territory. It looks like this was the office of a tycoon or something in central Jaka city.

Everything was clean—not the kind of clean that comes from a mop and elbow grease—this was sterile. Yeah, I am sure everything is sterile and spotless.

The walls were matte black with faint glowing tracelines that pulsed with soft blue light, forming geometric circuit patterns that reminded me of mana runes, only more… industrial. Sleek horizontal display cases lined the left wall, each sealed under tinted crystal glass.

There was no dust, no clutter. Each item hovered mid-case with a soft stabilization field: enchanted lenses, custom-calibrated mana cores, and capsule vials of compressed energy. At least that's what I think it is. Thalamik clearly knows this stuff better than I do.

A low mechanical hum hung beneath it all. Like the place was alive, quietly checking your vitals.

On the far side was a minimalist counter—flat, glowing gently at the edges, like a digital altar. A projection flickered above it, running diagnostics on a rune-carved gauntlet in slow rotation.

And standing behind it was the woman I saw before, this time without her hood.

She was… different. Not merely pretty, though the half‑ponytail of pale‑gold hair and clear emerald green eyes would make most knights fumble their swords, but precise. Her black-and-white outfit looked modern, like the one on the Human Continent. I think people call this style techwear.

"I'm impressed," she said, voice calm and low. "Almost no one can even enter this place, but you walked in as if the seal wasn't there."

Her arms crossed lightly.

Her fingertips tapped her elbow.

I swallowed the sudden tightness in my throat and tried to look unfazed.

"I, uh… guessed the mana frequency." 

Yeah, if Thalamik were to breach this kind of seal. That's something he would definitely say.

The corner of her mouth twitched—half‑smile, half‑evaluation. "So you guessed the mana frequency, huh? So you didn't perform mana penetration on the barrier, is that it?"

"Bit of both." I let my gaze slide to an array of crystal vials. "Actually, I was hoping to pick up some, you know, basic supplies—mana packets, condensed ether, that sort of thing."

It was total improvisation on my part. She said words I didn't understand, so I had to change the subject.

Her eyes narrowed by millimeters, sensing the bluff, but she said nothing. She turned, skirt whispering, and beckoned me deeper between shelves that rearranged themselves to grant passage.

She stopped beside a floating drawer, tapped a sigil, and dozens of small metal cubes presented themselves. "Standard mana packets," she explained. "Five hours of regulated flow each."

She explained as she looked at my face, which was clearly confused.

"...do you actually need them?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

I scratched the back of my neck. "Honestly? Probably not. I'm mostly—well, looking around. Curiously wanted to know what you sell in this store."

"For someone who guessed a barrier frequency, 'curiosity' is a conservative term." She replaced the tray with surgical precision, closing the drawer with her fingertip alone. "Still, browsing is allowed. Just don't touch anything encased in a double‑seal."

"Understood." I caught myself staring—at the ribbon looping her side ponytail, at the slight frown line that appeared when she catalogued me. She noticed, and the green in her eyes sharpened like glass caught in sunlight.

No, what am I doing?

I should be asking about why she called and appeared to me before?

"Hey, I wanted to ask-"

Before I could say what I wanted to say, a bell chimed—this time the ordinary kind—and two more girls swept in with shopping satchels.

"Recca, you dropped half the pastries on the way back—oh!" The elder, taller one spotted me instantly and flashed the practiced warmth of a stage performer. "A customer? How ultra-rare!"

The woman with blonde hair stepped aside, expression returning to neutral. I suspected she preferred the solitude.

The elder extended a hand. "I am Suiko. That girl is Recca." The younger sister bounced a curtsy, her twin ponytails spinning like rotor blades.

"Raymed," I replied, shaking Suiko's hand. Her grip was soft but hid unmistakable mana threads—less disciplined than the blond woman, but it felt potent. No, perhaps she is suppressing it, just as Thalamik always did.

"Kourin, are we offering tea?" Suiko sang, already steering me toward a low marble table that hadn't existed a second ago. "We seldom entertain, and you look like someone with stories."

Kourin. That was the blonde woman's name. A quite unique name if you asked me.

Kourin's only response was a sidelong glance—measured, searching, unreadable.

Pastries appeared, steam curling from a porcelain pot. I sat, feeling suddenly like an intruder in a floating dream.

Suiko poured. "So, Raymed, what brings you to our humble consultant boutique? Psytelier? Hunting any particular magic items?"

I opened my mouth, closed it. The scent of jasmine filled the gap. Keep it casual.

"Ah so this is a cosultant boutique? I actually… yes. I wanted to see something!" I said.

"Then tell me what kind of magic item is it like? Do you have a description?"

"Oh no.. but I think it's called an artifact. I want to see what a genuine artifact looks like."

All three sisters froze. Even Recca stopped mid‑bite, crumbs suspended in breach of physics. Kourin's hand tightened around her cup; a faint clink told of controlled strength.

Suiko recovered first, lips curving into a polite—but—thinner smile. "Artifacts of the High Humans I presume?"

"Ah yes that's true!"

"Well... Raymed... those are… legendary. Sealed. Some say mythical." Suiko said.

"I know." I forced a light laugh. "But I've heard stories it actually existed. I thought maybe someone in the know might have anything like it. A replica, perhaps. Or even a story."

Kourin finally spoke, voice softer but edged. "Why would a student of Vanguard like you seek something that the United Front itself hasn't managed to unseal?"

Unknowingly, what Kourin said was a blunder. 

Why? Because I never once mentioned I was from Vanguard Academy.

I looked at Kourin's face, and she seemed to just realize her blunder. Somehow, a small blush appeared on her cheek.

"Yeah... It's true; it sounds unbelievable. I already told you, Ms. Kourin, that I am from Vanguard. Yet I also wanted to get my hands on these so-called artifacts."

Of course, I won't call her out.

How could I reveal to her sisters that she had been talking to me? Even worse, maybe the one time at the academy wasn't talking but borderline stalking. But what matters is that I don't want things to be weird around us.

"It's my academic interest. Passion. You may also call it like a hobby of mine."

Suiko exchanged a glance with Recca—the kind siblings share when silently agreeing on the safest amount of truth. "Our establishment deals in magical items and guidance for those chasing rarities," Suiko admitted, folding her hands. "But we have never seen an artifact, only studied the ripples they left on history. If you truly wish to pursue one, it would be best if you start somewhere else. But if any other magic items interest you feel free to return here."

"I figured." I stood, bowing slightly. "Thank you for the tea, and for humoring a stranger."

Recca pouted. "Aw, leaving already?"

"Well, uhm... I actually have something to do tomorrow. Haha. But I think I'll be returning soon."

"Recca don't make him feel bad. Don't be selfish." Kourin suddenly spoke.

"I am not!" Recca stuck her tongue out.

Suiko escorted me to the door, then nudged me, whispering, "We rarely have any guests, Mr. Raymed. So, if you ever need a consultation or perhaps just want to visit, it's fine also."

I nodded, then glanced back.

Kourin had remained near the counter, arms crossed once more.

"Thank you," I said to Suiko and waved my hand to Recca and Kourin.

She inclined her head a bare centimeter. Not quite an invitation, not a dismissal either.

The alley air greeted me, colder after the shop's scented warmth. As the door shut, the runes re‑lit, and I felt—not just heard—the soft thrum of the barrier re‑engage.

Somehow, I feel a bit sad. I wonder what is happening. 

Then I remembered Kourin's face in my mind.

It made my heart skip a beat.

No way.

No way.

No way.

No, absolutely not.

This isn't what I think is right?

No No No.

I just met her, there's no way this is what I thought it is.

***

In the courtyard, Raymed sat with his arms crossed and a deep scowl, trying to outmatch the heat crawling up his face. Opposite him, Thalamik lounged, legs propped on the stone bench, an annoyingly smug grin stretched across his face. Carmilla was perched next to Thalamik, gently swinging her legs like a happy child.

"So…" Thalamik droned, drawing out the word like he was unravelling something complicated. "You just... walked into this enchanted, invisible shop that no one can sense… and there she was."

Raymed stared at the tree. "I'm not repeating it again."

Carmilla gasped teasingly, "Why not?! It's adorable!"

"I told you—" Raymed grunted. "I saw someone. She led me there. Maybe it was a specter, maybe it was a projection—whatever. I followed her, ended up at the Psytelier shop, and boom. Door opens. I go in. She's there. End of story."

"Oh no," Thalamik said, placing his hands behind his head with the most evil smirk. "This is the start of a story. The forbidden, slow-burn, fantasy-tinged romance arc starring Ray the unstable yet very confused lovestruck man.

Raymed narrowed his eyes. "Thal. Shut. Up."

Thalamik didn't. "PFFFT—Did you just fall in love at first sight? Admit it!" He nudged Raymed with his foot. "Glad to see you finally showing interest in girls. For a while, I thought your true soulmate was the explosions you made along the way."

Raymed nearly choked. "I DIDN'T FALL IN LOVE, OKAY! YOU CHILDISH BRAT!"

"I'm older than you—"

"You act like a brat, though! Stop pestering me!"

Carmilla leaned forward, resting her cheek on her palm, eyes shining. "Tell us again… what did she look like?"

Raymed hesitated, and his face began blushing. "She had... golden hair. Tied to the side. Precise posture. Calm voice. Kinda like…" he paused, flustered, "…a cold ice princess from a book or something."

Carmilla inhaled dramatically. "A cold ice princess! Ohhh, so she froze your heart the second she looked at you, huh?"

Raymed groaned. "Please. Stop."

Carmilla tapped her chin with a devious grin. "So mysterious girl with calm magical energy running a magical boutique... you're done for, Ray. You know that, right? You are so in love."

"I'm not—!"

She cut him off. "I shall take it upon myself to be your wingwoman. I will find out who this Kourin is. I will gather every detail. What she likes, what she hates, what kind of tea she drinks—"

Thalamik raised a finger solemnly. "And I, Thalamik, the Fiend Kaiser... will be your wingman. I shall infiltrate her domain with the subtle grace of a shadow knight and report back with classified intel."

"Stop. Both of you. You're making it weird." Raymed buried his face in his hands. "Honestly, why do I talk to you people?"

Thalamik leaned back, looking up at the sky like a smug prophet. "Because deep down, you know we're the only ones who'll cheer you on when you inevitably embarrass yourself in front of her again. That's given and a divine knowledge from the above."

"Truly," Carmilla added sweetly and gracefully, "you couldn't ask for a more supportive disaster duo."

That's when a slow, amused voice drifted in from behind them:

"Ah, to be young and in denial."

Raymed froze.

Carmilla lit up. "Director Diko~"

Thalamik grinned. "Diko, you're just in time. Our boy here's entering his first romance arc."

Raymed whipped around, already dreading the smirk on Diko's face—and there it was.

Diko strolled up with his scroll case tucked under one arm and a steaming mug in the other, radiating that half-retired warrior, half-unwilling mentor energy. He looked like he'd just walked out of a faculty meeting and into a sitcom.

"Romance arc, huh?" he said, arching a brow. "Did you finally figure out that mana isn't the only thing that can set your heart on fire?"

Raymed groaned. "Please, not you too—"

Diko ignored him completely. "You know, back in my day, a crush meant sending a falcon across three provinces and praying she didn't read the letter out loud to her entire knight squadron. Not that I am that old, it's just Falcon is pretty useful when there wasn't a peace treaty yet, you know?"

Carmilla giggled. "So she's a knight, huh? Well, did she reply?"

"She did," Diko said flatly. "Then challenged me to a duel to defend my 'embarrassing metaphors.' She won, but I still consider that a romantic victory."

Raymed looked at him, half desperate. "Why are you like this?"

"Because," Diko said, taking a long, obnoxiously slow sip of his coffee, "I've lived long enough to know that teasing the youth in love is the closest thing to immortality. This kind of stuff made me feel young again."

Thalamik clapped him on the back. "Spoken like a man who has definitely stolen someone else's wedding cake before. You must be the agent of chaos in romantic settings."

Diko nodded solemnly. "Twice. By that time, you'd be surprised how fast a griffon can track you across rooftops. Got scars right here and here." He showed the scars to Thalamik.

Raymed exhaled slowly through his nose. "Can we please go back to not talking about my personal life?"

"No," Carmilla said with a beatific smile.

"Absolutely not," Thalamik agreed.

Diko joined them at the bench beside Raymed. "You know, Raymed… you've been carrying the weight of the world like it's your birthright ever since your days at L'arc. At least that's what I've heard from Hale. But maybe, just maybe, you're allowed to carry feelings too. You're not unbreakable. If I may say, you're light. And light doesn't just destroy things. It reveals what's beautiful."

Raymed blinked, thrown off by the sincerity, "…That was surprisingly poetic."

Diko shrugged. "I have layers." Then he smirked again. "Also, I knew it was serious when you called her to have 'precise posture.' That's not a crush, kid. That's a diagnosis of love."

Carmilla lost it.

Thalamik wheezed.

Raymed stood up, pointing accusingly at all three of them like a betrayed protagonist in a stage play. "You're all demons in disguise. I trusted you!"

Diko raised his mug. "That's your mistake, lad. Trust is for battlefields. Teasing is for friends."

Raymed groaned, voice muffled behind his hands. "God, please, I am so embarrassed right now."

"Hahahaha anyways. There's something I'd like to talk about."

The laughter lingered like the final notes of a performance—Raymed still flushed, Carmilla playfully nudging his shoulder, Thalamik pretending he was dying of secondhand embarrassment.

Diko let the mirth simmer a moment longer before letting out a long, satisfied sigh. "Alright. Fun's fun, but I didn't just come over to torment the emotionally unprepared."

Raymed shot him a glare. "Could've fooled me."

Thalamik raised a brow. "So what's the real reason, old man?"

Diko's amusement flickered… then faded.

He stood straight, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve, and for a moment, the teasing tone dropped.

"I've received word this morning from one of the elven circles."

Thalamik's posture changed immediately. "Let me guess. The amnesty."

Carmilla turned to them, alert now.

Diko nodded slowly. "Yes. I didn't want to bring it up while we were laughing—but since you mentioned it, Thalamik… your disciplinary case has officially been closed. You've been granted full amnesty."

Thalamik's brows furrowed. "By who?"

Diko hesitated.

"That… is the complicated part."

Carmilla frowned. "Complicated how?"

The director exhaled. "The amnesty wasn't pushed by the Academy itself. It came from one of the outer sovereigns. Someone who overrode even the Elf Representative Council's concerns."

Raymed looked between them. "Someone that high up?"

Thalamik's voice dropped low. "Say the name."

Diko gave a half-hearted shrug. "I was reluctant to believe it myself. But the voice in the intercepted call… unmistakable."

.

.

.

"Zuatha Il Zikmel."

Silence.

The name hung in the air like a freshly unsheathed blade.

Thalamik's jaw tightened. His fists clenched against the marble bench. The mana around his fingers crackled—not violently, but cold, tense. It was now in a state of better control. "That bastard noble from the South Jaka City raid," he said through gritted teeth.

Raymed eyes darkened as his mana tainted the atmosphere. Yet he didn't say a thing.

Diko nodded. "She's the one who granted you clemency. Claimed it was on account of... 'mutual interest.'"

"I don't want her interest." Thalamik spat.

"I know." Diko placed a hand on Thalamik's shoulder. "But you can't refuse a gift that keeps you breathing." Thalamik stood up, gaze distant. "So what? I owe her now?"

"No, of course not," Diko said calmly. "She was doing this to prevent you from doing a diplomatic visit. Because she knows if you did that, you'll eventually will meet her soon. But, don't worry, you'll get a chance to meet her again. That much is certain. More like I will do everything I can to make that reality."

He looked Thalamik in the eye. "When that time comes, I'll make sure you get to speak on your terms. Not as a lower class person. But as the proud warrior you've become even maybe above who Zuatha is."

The fire in Thalamik's chest settled to a simmer. After a long pause, he gave a small nod.

"Heh. You already know then how much I want to stab that assh*le of an elf. You know I won't play nice when that event comes right?" Fiery mana began forming in Thalamik's eyes.

Diko chuckled. "I never asked you to. When that time comes. Go nuts."

Then he straightened, clapping his hands once. "Now, onto something far less politically terrifying: matriculation homework!"

Raymed blinked. "What?"

Carmilla blinked harder. "I beg your pardon?"

Diko held up a scroll. "Starting tomorrow, you will be enrolled in a one-week mana fundamentals course. The Academy mandates A crash review for all incoming irregulars."

Thalamik arched a brow. "Irregulars?"

"You three," Diko said flatly, "who skipped half the traditional curriculum by, oh, fighting Demon Envoys, breaking orientation trials, and traumatizing a noble heir."

"…Fair." Raymed slumped. "So what, they're splitting us up?"

Diko shrugged. "Not immediately. But after the week, you'll each be assigned to your proper specialization class."

Carmilla's voice was quiet. "So we won't be together anymore…"

The group fell silent again, but it wasn't from shock this time. It was the kind of silence that came from understanding something was changing—inevitably.

Raymed looked at the ground. "…Well. That sucks."

Thalamik stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Raymed's shoulder. "Look."

Raymed glanced up.

Thalamik smirked. "Even if we're apart, I'll prioritize you two idiots first."

Carmilla smiled faintly. "Always?"

"Always," Thalamik confirmed. "Call, scream, send smoke. I'll show up."

Diko added, more softly, "Even if you're in different wings of the Academy, you three are already something special. The faculty knows it. The Council knows it."

He sipped from his mug. "And eventually, you'll combine the strength you earn in those separate classes. Each of you will bring something the others need. Trust me… the time for that fusion will come."

Raymed smiled at that, just a little. Carmilla suddenly reached over and squeezed both boys' hands.

Thalamik muttered, "Don't make this weird."

"Too late," Carmilla said with a glee on her face. "Let's all do our best!" 

Then Diko barked, "Now, chin up, recruits! This week will hurt your pride but grow your power. It's time to sharpen your basics before fate sharpens you into blades."

Thalamik, Raymed, and Carmilla all stood at attention like goofy cadets.

And in perfect unison, they shouted,

"Sir, yes sir!"