After the creature collapsed, the only thing left in the room was the scent of charred dust.
Lucian said nothing for a long moment. He glanced down at the box again—but did not touch it.
And I… I was frozen in place.
I looked at my trembling hands. My heart was still pounding in time with that creature's rhythm.
It hadn't attacked me… but I felt like I had summoned it.
"This… must not be shared," Lucian said.
"Such creatures can appear where dark magic has been strong. But the taint in this box was minimal. The fact that a creature sprang from it— it's not a good omen."
His voice was calm as always—but the tension in his eyes seeped through every word.
"So… we don't tell the others in the tower?" I asked. "Not even Director Sevrik?"
Lucian didn't look away from me. He removed his glasses before answering.
"We tell only him. No one else."
⸻
Lucian escorted me to the director's office.
Normally, no one enters alone—but this was no ordinary case.
Sevrik stood perfectly straight as ever. His robe was immaculate. His face bore the weight of years, but his voice remained sharp.
His hair, more salt than pepper, was neatly tied at the nape of his neck. A few strands of white betrayed his age—but you couldn't tell if he was fifty… or seventy slowed by magic.
His eyes were a muddy green.
I had seen him in the game, of course—typed dialogue, clicked through mission lists—but now… he was breathing, alive, before me.
I thought I had adjusted to this world. But standing before a real sorcerer, talking to him… it was something else.
It was like a pixelated image suddenly stepping off the screen into reality.
Neither tone, nor posture, nor gaze—no digital illusion could capture that weight.
Sorcerers… were far more commanding than their game avatars.
Lucian relayed everything except the vision. He said:
"…we received unexpected feedback from the box,"
"a living trace of magic formed,"
"and a creature emerged."
I stayed silent. Sevrik's gaze moved onto me once he finished.
"This event… must not be heard by the masses right now," he said. "If rumors spread that dark magic has resurged, panic will follow. People already distrust sorcerers deeply. The last thing we need is public fear turning against us."
His voice wasn't angry—just steady.
But I saw the anxiety behind his words.
"This box will be studied under watchful eyes. Only certain individuals will have access. From now on, any item tainted by dark magic will be locked away."
Lucian nodded. I stayed quiet.
Just when it seemed Sevrik was about to dismiss us, he turned back to Lucian.
"Don't spread this around the tower. I will form a small, discreet team—people like you—to investigate quietly."
He spoke evenly, but the gravity… was like guarding a state secret.
"If this type of magic is surfacing in more than one artifact… the situation is far worse than we thought."
As we left, he added one last remark:
"If this magic appears in multiple items… we're facing something far more dire."
⸻
Back in my tower room… something inside me kept stirring.
A baby.
Those eyes.
The cradle.
It had been a darker vision. But there was… something else.
A pang of pain. An unspoken plea for help.
I sat on my bed, visions of the crying man still echoing in my mind.
His words lingered:
"This cannot be of my blood."
Maybe… this was the beginning.
⸻
"I can't stay here," I whispered. "If I think too much, I'll drown."
I returned to the desk and opened Lucian's notes.
My fingers trembled.
This kind of scene didn't exist in the game.
Even unfinished, I could sense the shift.
The box, the vision, the child—none of it was normal.
⸻
Later that afternoon, Lucian summoned me.
The study was still messy; several other boxes lined the table—but no one had touched them.
When I entered, Lucian removed his glasses.
"You're thinking," he observed.
I nodded.
"I… saw the child, Lucian. It felt real."
He stepped closer.
"I know. But we are sorcerers. We rely on facts—not feelings."
His voice wasn't harsh—but there was tenderness beneath.
"And we will work. Because of that."
I raised an eyebrow. "Work how?"
"Your mind is scattered. And a sorcerer can't function without focus. Tonight, we'll run through basic form control—energy balancing. If your center is off, you must relearn focus."
I understood. This wasn't a lesson.
It was a distraction.
He was staving off my spiraling thoughts—
Yet every time we practiced, I felt myself walk through that cave again.
⸻
Later, when we entered the dining hall, our presence drew glances.
Lucian was seen here maybe once a year—it was clear he was spending his yearly turn with me.
Nina slipped into the seat next to me as Lucian settled.
"I couldn't miss this," she chattered. "Lucian in the dining hall? By choice?"
He didn't react—the answer was implied.
I chimed in.
"My mood's been off today—my social-mood regulator did its job."
Nina smiled.
"Excellent. So I can further ruin it by telling you: Cassian Ardeval has returned to the palace."
Lucian lifted his head slightly, but otherwise remained unmoved.
Nina pressed on.
"He's resumed official protocol duties. We'll be seeing that icy face again."
I furrowed my brows as the system popped up before my eyes:
⸻
[Character: Cassian Ardeval – Affinity Level: 100/100]
⸻
Nina leaned in, like she wanted to bait a reaction from Lucian.
"Last week, he quelled the rebellion in Arvenia—accompanied by Kaedin Veyne for protection."
"Kaedin?" I said. "He was so talented, wasn't he?"
⸻
At that moment, I flashed back to playing the game—and encountering those two brothers.
They weren't central to the plot, but in side quests… they wrecked everything.
Usually, I'd save one, and the other'd accidentally cause chaos.
Once, I rescued Kaedin from a giant spider in a mine. Meanwhile, Lior tried to start a campfire outside—and ended up burning the woods.
Mission started:
[Quest: Save Kaedin]
Then instantly updated to:
[New Objective: Prevent Forest Fire]
Another time, Lior lost a potion ingredient. While I was hunting it down, Kaedin fell into a pit because Lior suggested "a shortcut, bro."
And every time, mission objectives kept piling up.
Eventually, Sevrik sighed and said:
"If I send those two on the same mission one more time… test my sanity."
Since then, they were always separated.
Kaedin—tall, serious, with purple eyes.
Lior—a whirlwind: curly blond hair, restless gaze, always searching.
Their missions were short—I didn't follow closely.
I was just grinding for gold.
But in the player forums, everyone had the same one complaint:
"Wish romance options existed for those brothers."
I admit it… I left a heart there too.
Looks like players like me weren't rare.
Now I wonder… did any of them fall into this world too?
Is one of them here somewhere?
Or… is it only me?
⸻
Nina glanced at Lucian to bait another reaction.
"Lucian, when that guy locks eyes with someone—they stop breathing. Normal?"
Lucian paused, then shrugged.
"Cassian… doesn't show emotion. Because he probably doesn't have any."
⸻
That was it for the dinner chatter.
Nina resumed eating, my system screen still hovering:
100/100.
I stared at my food—but couldn't eat. My fork hovered, then I set it down untouched.
Lucian glanced over.
"You haven't eaten enough."
"I have," I countered defensively. "Sort-of."
"That's not 'eating.'"
His tone low—no warmth.
He stood up.
"I have work to finish."
Just as I braced to ask what kind of work, he paused at the door and added:
"Tonight—after sunset—there's a festival in the city. I'll take you."
I lifted my head.
"A festival?"
He inclined his head.
"Music, street performances, enchanted lights… some sorcerers will demonstrate their craft. You may find it… interesting."
Interesting?
A spark flickered inside me.
Festivals in games were always my favorite parts—mini-games with reputation rewards, NPCs dancing, lanterns, flirt quests…
And now… I'd live one in reality.
I swallowed that excitement before it showed.
"Okay," I said. "Interesting could be good."
⸻
When I retreated to my room to prepare, I focused on my hair first.
Those shimmering white-silver strands … sometimes they glowed like moonlight, sometimes gleamed like ice.
They were loosely curled now, a bit tangled at the ends. I ran my fingers through them and secured a half-up style at the back. The rest cascaded over my shoulders, shimmering wherever light touched.
Then I peeked at my reflection.
My skin was fair—slightly pale, yet smooth.
And my eyes… those same blue eyes from my game avatar, but deeper here.
The person staring back wasn't a character—she was someone real.
And she was… beautiful.
It still felt foreign. I forget I look like this often.
I chose an outfit that wasn't extravagant, but still impressive.
A navy-blue dress with thin shoulder straps. The fabric was airy, flowing with every step.
A delicate silver belt cinched at my waist—matching my hair highlights.
I even paused when selecting my shoes. After all, this was a festival… not a patrol.
I wasn't on a quest—I was attending an event.
I looked one more time.
And…
I really was beautiful.
Not in a high-drama way, but in a way that made me pause.
In reality—not pixels.
I breathed out.
"Ready."
But what I felt internally was:
"This isn't just a festival—it's my first real one outside the game."
⸻
When I opened the door, Lucian waited in the corridor, leaning casually against the wall.
He looked up.
And… for a brief flicker, he really looked at me.
For that moment, I saw something in his eyes—a playful spark.
Not a full smile, but the corners of his lips twitched upward ever so slightly.
"You'll attract quite a crowd tonight," he said.
Then, as he turned away:
"I can already feel my patience being tested."
He didn't overshare. He didn't rush. He simply took a small step closer—far enough to leave normal space undefined.
In that one moment, everything changed.
For the past few days… things had been different.
He'd never made a romantic gesture—no offhand words, no subtle touches, no teasing glances.
I suspect he held back, not to scare me.
He'd taken a step back whenever I trembled or froze. He respected my boundaries.
And tonight?
It felt like he was being himself again. Full of mischief and warmth.
Sadly—or maybe happily—I loved that.
My heart pounded like crazy. I had no idea what to say—or do.
But one thing was clear:
"He's back."
And the moment I realized that—a gentle panic rushed through me.