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“Aura, in the end, is a power that has been altered through the practice of refining mana. Some scholars even argue that the superhuman strength of swordsmen should also be considered magic.”

His argument had some merit.

Just as mana can be reconfigured through spells to create wind or summon lightning, the practice of refining it transforms it into powers such as indestructibility, speed, or immense strength. Although there’s a process of converting it into aura, in the end, the source of aura is mana.

Arkandric claimed that because of this, swordsmen could also wield miracles with their blades.

“From mana to aura, and from aura back to mana. Through this ongoing cycle, such feats become possible.”

In Arkandric’s case, that miracle was a sword imbued with cold—an ice sword.

“The principle is simple. Mana absorbs cold, transforms into aura, and is then released through the sword. When the cold diminishes, the aura is converted back into mana, and the cold is replenished into the mana. As this process repeats, frost begins to form on the blade, and eventually, it solidifies into ice crystals.”

“Of course, it’s not easy. It requires a deep understanding. But, Luon, with your potential as a magic swordsman, you should be able to achieve it quickly.”

Luon recalled Arkandric’s teachings as he gazed at the ice sword in his hand.

Whiiooo―

He was still far from creating clear, transparent ice crystals. All he could manage was a thin layer of white frost on the blade.

Still, that alone was an overwhelming power.

!!!!!

Luon easily deflected Silla’s sword, which was aiming for his neck. The frost-coated blade made it slip off effortlessly.

Poke!

He lightly stabbed Silla’s thigh with the ice sword, causing her to grimace and step back.

“Ugh!”

Luon averted his indifferent gaze from Silla and looked toward Riamon.

Silla, displeased by this, hissed angrily.

“You bastard… there’s a limit to ignoring people!”

Luon replied, his gaze still fixed on Riamon.

“If you can move, then do so.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a cracking sound echoed.

The wound on Silla’s thigh began to freeze.

She gritted her teeth and shouted in frustration.

“Ugh, this is so annoying!”

As Silla retreated, Luon approached Riamon.

He then glanced around.

Aslay, Ricks, and Erucel were all unconscious.

Bellman and Edina bore sword wounds across their chests.

And Leana was clutching her stomach where she had been stabbed.

The only ones left were Riamon and Limberton, who was aiming his bow from a distance.

Luon spoke in a disinterested tone.

“It seems you’ve been waiting for quite a while. Did you never intend to fight alongside your comrades?”

Riamon stretched his arms and shoulders, producing cracking sounds.

“Well, I’m not really good at teaming up with others.”

As Riamon raised his greatsword, Luon slowly opened and closed his eyes before speaking again.

“Limberton, shoot as much as you like.”

The moment he finished speaking, Riamon charged at him.

At the same time, Limberton’s arrows were fired.

Luon casually tilted his head, swiftly deflecting the incoming arrow.

Clang!

Limberton exclaimed in surprise.

“He—he reacted to that?”

Immediately after, Riamon’s greatsword slashed diagonally toward Luon’s shoulder.

Luon easily dodged by shifting his stance.

Bang!

When the greatsword struck the ground, Luon’s lips twitched slightly.

He tried to stifle a yawn that seemed ready to burst out but eventually ended up covering his mouth with his hand.

“Yawn.”

It was natural for him to feel bored.

After all, it wasn’t exactly thrilling to face students weaker than their instructor.

This led him to ponder.

‘What am I doing here?’

Even as Riamon’s sword and Limberton’s arrows approached, Luon’s body responded automatically.

He dodged when attacked and struck back instinctively whenever he saw an opening.

As he repeated this cycle, he continued to think.

‘This was just a whim, something I tried on the off chance it might work.’

He had planned to die when the time limit for his cursed technique ran out.

Even if he died at the hands of these people, it didn’t matter much to him.

All he had wanted was a spark, some kind of thrill.

“Urgh!”

As a groan was heard, Luon’s mind snapped back to focus.

Before he knew it, Riamon was lying at his feet, looking up with a twisted expression.

Seeing the blood trickling from the cuts on his body, Luon blinked.

“You’ve lasted quite a while.”

“…Just one question. You seemed distracted throughout the fight. What on earth were you thinking?”

At Riamon’s question, Luon lowered his sword.

“Who knows?”

Then, he turned his head toward Limberton.

In his line of sight was a gleaming arrowhead approaching fast.

Luon instinctively moved, but then halted himself.

Thud!

The arrow pierced through his shoulder.

In the meantime, the ones who had fainted were getting up, and the injured grasped their weapons while panting heavily.

Luon opened his hand, feeling the familiar sense of futility.

“I was just thinking that… everything is meaningless.”

Clang.

As his sword fell to the ground, they began to approach.

***

By the time I reached the 11th floor, I hid myself in the lecture hall.

As expected, I could hear the footsteps of the main group coming down the stairs.

“Are we just going to leave him like that? Shouldn’t we be sure by chopping his head off?”

The irritated voice belonged to Silla.

Bellman responded to her.

“I stabbed him in the heart. He’ll be dead soon enough.”

“Still.”

“Then why didn’t you do it yourself?”

At Bellman’s sharp retort, Silla muttered in a small voice.

“…I don’t know. It just felt off.”

It must have been unsettling for anyone to behead someone who seemed so ready to die.

Perhaps there was even a sense of pity.

With death already certain, there was no need for it.

“We all probably felt the same. But the priority now is healing. We have too many wounded. Let’s quickly disable the barrier and head to the infirmary.” ŕ

With Bellman’s final words, their footsteps faded.

I slipped out of the lecture hall and headed up the stairs.

As I entered the indoor garden on the 12th floor, I saw Luon walking toward the window.

Thud.

He stopped.

He slightly turned his head toward me and scattered the broken mosaic pieces into the air.

I silently approached Luon.

When I got close enough, he called my name.

“Hersel.”

Once I stood before him, I wasn’t sure how to act.

It was probably due to the conversation I had with Felia at the dining hall.

When I asked why she had been asking about Luon, she answered like this:

“Well, when I see how Luon treats you, it’s obvious he looks up to you.”

“Looks up to me?”

“That’s how it seemed to me. Luon probably feels the same. But after thinking about it more, I realized it’s a little different.”

What Felia said next was like a breath of fresh air for my clouded mind.

“Luon just doesn’t know. It wasn’t the things you taught him that made him happy, it was the fact that ‘you’ were the one teaching him.”

With just those few words, it all started to make sense.

The original owner of this body must have genuinely enjoyed their wicked deeds and encouraged Luon to do the same.

Each time, Hersel probably told him, “This is fun,” and Luon, emotionally insensitive as he was, ended up completely misunderstanding.

What actually moistened his dry spirit wasn’t the pleasure from the act itself, but the emotional connection with the person showing him kindness, though he didn’t realize it.

No matter how indifferent someone is, as a child, they still crave parental care. It’s an instinct for survival.

If they don’t get that, it remains as a void in their heart.

In the end, Luon needed someone to lean on.

Having grown up practically abandoned by his parents, someone who shared a common bond came along, taught him things, and even showed kindness. He must have felt a sense of fulfillment, even if it was unconscious.

But whether in the game or in reality, Hersel left Luon.

Whether he died as originally planned or I, who took over this body, pushed him away, the result was the same.

Because of this, there was almost no one left for Luon to rely on.

Aiman and Arsys only used Luon for their own pleasure.

They were simply scared of him, obedient only to avoid conflict.

There’s Kurel, who genuinely follows Luon, but he lowers himself so much to support him that Luon can’t really rely on him without feeling off-balance.

You can’t lean on someone who’s tilting over like that.

At least, not unless they are someone better than you or on equal footing.

It was then that I realized I should stop overthinking and start speaking.

Even though Luon had taken the demonization elixir, it had only temporarily delayed his death.

“Ha…”

I sighed softly and looked over Luon’s entire body.

For some reason, a comment about his clothes seemed like an appropriate way to start the conversation.

His chest was soaked in blood flowing from his heart, but…

“That outfit looks familiar.”

“That’s probably because I chose a design similar to what you used to wear often.”

Luon glanced at my clothes as well.

“And Hersel, your attire is quite different from usual.”

“Well, yes.”

After that, there was a brief silence.

I should probably reprimand him for causing such a mess, but that didn’t feel quite right.

Given the countless sins committed in this body, any righteous words I might say would probably just sound like nonsense.

In an effort to break the uncomfortable quiet, I decided to speak.

“Do you perhaps resent me?”

I asked as I stared into his eyes, and he let out a small chuckle.

“According to Felia, yes.”

“Is that what you think too?”

Luon blinked and lowered his gaze.

He seemed to be in deep thought.

“…For just a brief moment. I did wonder if you might feel something different if your friends were suffering because of you.”

“But you didn’t feel anything, it seems.”

Luon’s expression remained indifferent.

It seemed like a lighter conversation would be appropriate.

I needed to bring up some memory from our past together if I wanted to say anything meaningful.

“Hmm.”

In the end, I decided to focus the conversation not on the distant past but on after we had entered this academy.

“By the way, isn’t the human rights abuse here in the academy severe? The professors seem hell-bent on harassing students at every opportunity. They think it’s worth their paycheck or something. Though there’s real work to be done elsewhere.”

As I shrugged, Luon gave a slight chuckle.

“It’s strange indeed. The special dorm is bad, but the outside students constantly suffer from the ‘Curse of Control’ as well.”

“That’s probably because this place feels like a psychiatric ward. A white snowfield, white walls—it’s the perfect place to drive someone mad.”

We exchanged various trivial and unimportant remarks.

Still, Luon chuckled from time to time.

To be honest, if I were to confess something now, I had always thought Luon’s expressions were all an act.

Like a psychopath pretending to be a normal person, devoid of emotions?

In the end, it seems I had misunderstood him through my own biased lens.

Once I took those glasses off, his expressions seemed full of life.

At least in front of me, it felt as though he was showing his true self.

Well, or not.

“When you took down the Bone dragon in a single strike, I was really surprised.”

“That was a fluke. In reality, there was a hidden master within the academy, and I just happened to…”

As our conversation continued, Luon’s complexion grew paler.

“…Well, something like that did happen. But don’t be too envious. I know you snuck out every night too.”

We were chatting lightly about everyday things when Luon, with a voice devoid of energy, said to me:

“…Hersel.”

“What?”

“I think I should return now. I’m fine.”

I asked with my expression if he was really okay, and Luon whispered softly.

“If anyone saw this scene, you’d be the one in trouble.”

Suddenly, as if a thought occurred to him, he pointed in a certain direction.

“Come to think of it, Felia told me to give you that if you came.”

There was a letter hanging on a statue of a woman.

It seemed Felia had been here after leaving the dining hall.

Or maybe she used magic to place it there.

I tore open the envelope and checked the contents.

It contained the location where a staff was hidden and the decryption method for unlocking it.

Of course, the location was a difficult place to access—the hall next to the statue of the Grand Mage that Erucel had rambled about.

“Hmm.”

Still, the timing was impeccable.

Given the chaos in the academy right now, I could probably sneak in unnoticed.

I pocketed the letter and turned my head.

Luon was already staring out the window.

“Unfortunately, the snowy mountain has yet to be colored with greenery.”

The random comment only lingered for a moment.

It reminded me of a conversation we’d had on the stairs one day in early April, during spring.

At that time, we talked like this:

—The scent of spring flowers has made its way here.

—Even in this cold place, pollen still flies, huh.

—Do you think all the snow will melt by summer?

—Who knows. If the snowy mountains ever turn green… I hope I can see it with you.

Now, it’s the beginning of summer, brimming with warmth.

But Luon was set to leave with the spring.

Sadly, the Frostheart’s cold wouldn’t allow him to see the lush green scenery.

“Right? If the snowy mountains turn green…”

I trailed off awkwardly, then smiled sheepishly.

“I always hoped we could see it together.”

Luon gave a slight bow.

“Take care.”

Luon said with a bright, carefree smile.

Who would have thought I’d see that expression from the so-called Mad Noble?

You live long enough, you see everything.

***

The night air felt even colder.

Left alone in the indoor garden, Luon wiped his blue-tinted lips with his hand.

No blood came out.

Thanks to the medicine, the wounds had healed.

But the pain in his heart from where he had been stabbed remained.

The wound was widening faster than it could heal, and the bleeding was worse than before.

Luon stared blankly at the bottle of medicine Felia had given him in his hand.

‘Ironic, isn’t it? They say it can regenerate limbs, but why not the heart…’

Regrettable, but he shook his head.

Still, it was a blessing in disguise.

The longer he lived, the more time he’d have to think and prepare for his departure.

Thunk.

Luon swallowed the pill, hoping to extend his life by even a few minutes, and sat on the window sill, lost in thought.

‘…Was this simple thing what I had been seeking all along?’

He finally realized, in the quiet afterglow, that what he had longed for wasn’t pleasure from a series of actions, but simply someone to lean on and share an intimate connection with.

‘Yeah, that’s why.’

The fight with Arkandric had been enjoyable because the emotional connection between them brought a strange sense of fulfillment.

Games and the chaos he caused were never fun because they lacked that connection.

In the end, what he sought wasn’t intense stimulation, but the subtle yet deeply fulfilling sense of stability.

But now, on the verge of death, it was too late to realize this.

Luon took out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth.

Suddenly, Felia’s nagging voice, as she hovered over his shoulder, came to mind.

—Why do you keep smoking that acrid thing?

Luon realized everything had been thanks to Felia.

If she hadn’t explained things by his side, he might never have known what he truly desired, even in his final moments.

And judging by the letter, she was likely the one who had sent Hersel here.

“Ah.”

Luon lowered his gaze from the snowy mountains.

There was Felia, running desperately as an old woman pursued her.

His eyes darted around, finally capturing her figure in his sight.

Felia was crawling toward the fountain, blood gushing from her thigh.

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