——Professor, what do you think?
Elise stood proudly with her hands on her hips as showed off her graduation cap.
At this point—two hours and thirty-five seconds into the play—the audience was fully immersed.
It no longer felt like acting. They weren’t watching a performance anymore. They were watching Elise herself, as if the story had come to life before their eyes.
The scene shifted slightly as Professor Valen stepped forward.
——You’ve done well, Elise.
Only a few months remained. Just a few more exams and, of course, the submission of the third-year final thesis before graduation.
By this point, even if Professor Valen were biased enough to give Elise a high grade, her efforts and talents only managed to keep her ranked twelfth in her entire batch.
Her adoptive parents had already lost hope of her securing a spot in the top three.
They had at least expected her to make the top ten.
But twelfth?
[I don’t care anymore. Expectations or not, whether they disown me or not, I have a secure future with my current grades. Honestly, who do they think they are?]
Elise had completely let go of the idea of family.
[As long as the professor is here to support me, I wouldn’t ask for anything more.]
Indeed, Professor Valen’s presence had become her anchor, keeping her from falling into complete despair.
Despite the bright, joyful front Elise displayed, everything else—the subtle lighting, the atmosphere, the music—told a different story.
——….
The entire aura around her radiated some sort of unspoken depression. Perhaps undiagnosed, but the hidden nuances told enough.
Elise was nearing her breaking point.
——Professor, we need to commemorate this! Who knows? The Aiselle Family might force me to drop out before I could graduate. Haha~
Aiselle Family.
She no longer referred to them as her parents.
——….
Professor Valen gave her a solemn look. Silas’s portrayal evoked some sort of tension, almost bordering on disgust.
“She’s losing it.”
“Don’t tell me the professor’s going to abandon her?!”
The scene evoked strong reactions from the audience. It was easy to predict where the plot was headed from this point.
It was a tragedy, after all.
“….”
Vanitas sat frozen in his seat, his expression blank. His mind was in turmoil, and all sorts of indescribable emotions suffocated him.
The scene on stage wasn’t entirely accurate to what was flashing in his mind.
But he could see it clearly.
“Where are you going, Vanitas?” Franz asked, noticing the shift in his demeanor.
“…Bathroom,” Vanitas muttered, standing abruptly from his seat.
He quickly left the theater room, and the sound of Elise’s monologue followed him down the hall.
[Maybe I’m jinxing it, but I feel like things will change after I graduate.]
Tak. Tak. Tak.
His footsteps quickened. His head was a mess, and the migraine was worsening by the second.
[Maybe I’ll be busy. Maybe I won’t see the professor as often in the future as I do now.]
Tak. Tak—!
Vanitas gritted his teeth as fragmented memories invaded his mind.
‘Ray-tracing, Professor. It’s a way to project and capture images onto a surface. It’s expensive, but I managed to save my pocket money for it.’
Arwen’s voice echoed vividly in his thoughts.
——All for this? I’ll pay for it.
So painful.
‘No, it’s fine. With this, even if I’m gone…. even if we don’t see each other for a while, you won’t feel lonely.’
Bang!
Vanitas burst through the door of his office and immediately stumbled inside. His body moved instinctively as he tore through the room, searching every corner desperately.
“….”
Finally, beneath layers of concealed magic circles hidden under his desk, he found it.
[Smile, Professor!]
Click—!
There, stowed away, were ray-traced portraits captured by Arwen,
Vanitas slowly reached out and picked up a portrait. It was of him and Arwen. She stood beside him with a radiant smile, wearing a graduation cap.
[That day.… I was so happy. Maybe the happiest I’ve ever been. I know what this feeling is. I’ve never actively denied it anyway.]
His hand trembled as he stared at the photograph.
[I love you.]
Elise’s voice overlapping.
‘I love you, Vanitas Astrea.’
….With Arwen’s.
* * *
A few days back.
Naturally, with lingering doubts in her mind, Charlotte had consulted Vanitas beforehand.
“I feel like there’s an underlying message in the play Silas wrote. I think it has something to do with my brother,” she said.
Perhaps others in the audience, those who had some connection to the original Vanitas, noticed the resemblance as well.
Even Cassandra, who had only met the current Vanitas, felt something was oddly familiar.
Because of this, Charlotte confided in him.
Charlotte looked Vanitas straight in the eye. “I believe Silas is someone my brother wronged in the past.”
“He is.” Vanitas nodded.
“So you knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why haven’t you done anything? We don’t know exactly what my brother has done in the past. This could be dangerous—”
“I can’t. He’s not doing anything overt, and putting the Ainsley Family down isn’t simple. On paper, they’re an Earl Family, but in terms of influence, they’re on par with the upper echelons of Duke status.”
That response left Charlotte stunned. Had Vanitas, or rather Archmage Zen, been trying to figure out a solution all along?
To think even someone like Vanitas hadn’t found a way to deal with Silas yet. Silas had been subtle. He wasn’t a problem student, nor was he particularly outstanding.
He was just…. there.
Almost like air.
“What should I do? Should I just quit my role—”
“No,” Vanitas interrupted, shaking his head. “That would ruin all the efforts your club has put into the play.”
“Ah, yeah,” she muttered, catching herself. “I’m not thinking right.”
Clearing her throat, Charlotte continued.
“But…. the play. It’s so exaggerated. Silas is portraying my brother as if he’s part of some romantic tragedy. I can’t imagine my brother ever doing the things written in the script. And who even is Elise?!”
“I have a general idea,” Vanitas replied.
At that, he began to explain to Charlotte what he knew.
About Arwen, about Silas, and about the original Vanitas’s actions, particularly the events that occurred during the 2019 batch’s final thesis project.
“So… it’s real,” Charlotte muttered, struggling to process his words.
“It’s not entirely accurate,” Vanitas said. “As you pointed out, there’s likely some exaggeration to paint Vanitas in a negative light.”
“What should I do—?”
“Keep acting,” Vanitas interrupted. “Show me. Show me the story. Show me his story. And show me your brother’s story.”
“But what if he tries something?” Charlotte asked. “Your reputation might be at risk.”
Vanitas looked her in the eye.
“Will you trust me, Charlotte?”
…..
Truth be told, Charlotte was afraid.
Knowing that Silas was plotting something without fully understanding what he was capable of filled her with fear.
But…
‘Will you trust me, Charlotte?’
Those words from Vanitas echoed repeatedly in her mind.
They felt reassuring, as if she could let go of all her doubts and simply act—entrusting everything to the Archmage.
No.
Not the Archmage.
To her brother.
So, Charlotte acted without restraint, fully immersing herself in the role.
‘Yes, Vanitas. I will show you your past mistakes. Or rather, his past mistakes.’
Her performance was fluid and natural. Acting for nearly three hours was bound to be exhausting, yet Charlotte remained consistent and composed.
It was simple, really.
Because Professor Valen truly resembled her brother from the past. Certain traumas resurfaced just from seeing that resemblance.
However….
‘I won’t let him hurt you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you, Charlotte.’
Words of comfort, giving her the confidence to shine brightly on the stage.
——I’ve finished the spell, Professor!
[It was an incomplete spell the professor had proposed. A backlog he suggested I finish and present during the final thesis defense.]
——You’ve done well, Elise.
——Hehe~
In all honesty, Charlotte couldn’t help but pity Silas. Based on how the script was written, even Siegmund—the character representing him—wasn’t portrayed in a favorable light.
There were moments of playful banter between Siegmund and Elise, but it was clear he was too late.
No matter what he did to win her over, Elise’s eyes were only ever on Professor Valen.
——What? Did you get yourself a boyfriend in university?
——H–Huh?! W–What are you saying…!
Elise’s face turned bright red at the question, while Siegmund frowned slightly.
——Don’t tease me like that again, alright?
Siegmund froze for a moment as Elise leaned in close. Too close.
——Y-Yeah… sorry…
Too beautiful.
[I was really scared when he asked that question. If someone overheard, I’d be questioned endlessly.]
[They shouldn’t know.]
——…..
[After I graduate, I’ll be leaving this family.]
* * *
“Isn’t this plotline kind of familiar?”
“What do you mean?”
In the audience, Professors Dahlia and Eamon quietly discussed the play. Judging by the pacing, the thesis defense seemed to mark the conclusion of the story.
“Hey,” Dahlia began. “Do you remember…. Arwen Ainsley?”
“Arwen…. Arwen…. Oh, that girl….”
“I don’t know why, but the plotline reminded me of that incident.”
When the incident had occurred, it was their first year as professors.
“Do you remember who tore apart her thesis and accused her of plagiarism?” Dahlia asked.
At the time, both of them were unable to enter the hall where the thesis defense took place. Only professors with two or more years of tenure were permitted to serve as panelists for such sessions.
“Not sure,” Eamon replied. “There were a lot of them.”
“The one who made the initial accusation.”
“If I remember right, I overheard a few professors talking about it.”
“Talking about what?”
“That it was…. Professor Vanitas.”
Dahlia paused, processing his words. Slowly, her eyes drifted to the stage, landing on the figure of Professor Valen. Recognition flashed in her eyes.
“That boy…. the one playing the professor. Do you know who he is?” she asked.
Eamon’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. He had seen the casting list for the play.
“Ainsley. Silas Ainsley.”
* * *
Not many knew that Arwen Ainsley had been Vanitas Astrea’s assistant. Only those within the inner circle, like Headmaster Elsa and Anastasia—who had been Arwen’s junior and often pestered Vanitas—were aware.
[I didn’t want to appear too close to the professor. Otherwise, he’d be accused of favoritism, especially with my high grades in his class.]
Flick. Flick—!
By the sixth act, the play’s somber tone had fully set in. Scenes involving Elise’s family had all but disappeared, perhaps symbolizing that she had severed all emotional ties with them.
[I’ve trained day and night. Months of hard work to fine-tune, calibrate, and finally cast the spell.]
The spell’s name was never mentioned. Silas had intentionally redacted it from the script.
If he had revealed it was Cumulonimbus, it would have caused an uproar within the faculty.
Because they would know.
They would remember—especially those who were present that day.
That it was Arwen’s story.
Perhaps they had buried the memory, forgotten it to the point of irrelevance. None of them had reacted to Silas Ainsley’s quiet admission into the University Tower.
No, it would be more accurate to say he hadn’t been on their radar.
Silas had kept a low profile. He wasn’t an exceptional student, nor a failing one.
Just…. average.
But perhaps…
That man had noticed him.
Because Silas had only ever wanted that man to notice him.
The man who had taken Arwen’s future.
‘How cruel, Professor.’
Silas scoffed, bitterly recalling Professor Vanitas’s indifference.
‘You groomed Arwen, took her future away…. and yet you can’t even meet me in the eye.’
Six months into university, several thoughts plagued Silas’s mind.
‘Are you doing this on purpose?’
‘Are you afraid?’
‘Afraid of losing everything?’
‘Why haven’t you visited Arwen?’
‘Did you forget her?’
‘Have you discarded her?’
‘Did you toss her aside after leaving her in that state?’
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’
Silas wanted to know. Those missing pages. The missing narrative in Arwen’s diary.
The missing piece of the story Silas didn’t know.
The diary had ended with one simple line.
——Please, don’t abandon me.
Silas didn’t even know how accurate his portrayal of Arwen’s final moments was.
Flick. Flick—!
His gaze shifted back to the stage.
The rising action—perhaps the climax—was beginning.
Elise stood at the center, constantly berated, betrayed, and now accused of plagiarism for a thesis she had worked tirelessly to complete.
A thesis that had originally belonged to Vanitas Astrea.
——I am Elise Aiselle. Nice to meet you, Professor, scholars, and distinguished panelists!
She gave a polite bow as the panelists began to converse.
——Miss Elise, you claim to have developed this spell on your own, correct?
A panelist began, looking down at her with a scrutinizing gaze.
——Yes, Professor.
——Interesting…. because upon review, we found significant similarities to a pre-existing body of research. Care to explain?
——Similarities? I don’t know what you mean. I developed this spell myself and refined it over the course of months.
[That’s exactly what the professor told me to do. Present his unfinished thesis, complete it, and submit it as my own. He promised to give me full credit. So… what is this guy talking about?]
The panelist raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
——Refining it? You mean plagiarizing, correct? It’s no coincidence that your spell mirrors work published years ago.
——I assure you, Professor, I didn’t plagiarize anything! I can demonstrate the process I used to create the spell.
Another panelist crossed their arms, shaking their head.
——Demonstration or not, the evidence against you is strong. Such coincidences rarely occur.
——Evidence? Please, show me this evidence, then.
——Very well.
The panelists and scholars turned toward the side. Elise followed their gaze. At that moment, her breath caught in her throat.
[I couldn’t believe it.]
——Miss Elise Aiselle, I don’t think it’s wise to play smart with us.
Her mouth trembled as she processed what was happening.
——W-Why… are you…?
Above the seats was Professor Valen himself, presenting a similar spell to the one she had developed—except with minor alterations.
The publication date? Over six years ago.
In that moment, Elise understood.
Professor Valen had set her up. He had completed the spell years ago and now stood as the person accusing her of plagiarism.
Of course, who else could so thoroughly accuse someone but the original creator of the thesis?
Elise had been deceived.
——No, no, no… no… no…!
She began to hyperventilate. The shock of betrayal truly overwhelmed her. The person she loved most had betrayed her, and it felt as though her world was collapsing.
Gasps and murmurs resounded throughout the entire theater room.
“What? Why did that happen?”
“Why would he betray her like that?”
The play gave no immediate explanation. The betrayal was presented abruptly, leaving the audience bewildered and emotionally shaken.
“You haven’t been paying attention, have you?”
Someone whispered in defense of the plot.
“The signs were there. The mood, the lighting, and Elise’s monologues hinted at it all along. You should’ve seen the professor’s betrayal coming. Not everything has to be spoonfed.”
[Professor…. how could you?]
Flick. Flick—!
The scene shifted.
Slap—!
Elise staggered slightly, feeling her cheek stinging from the force of her adoptive mother’s hand.
——This is absolutely disgraceful!
Her father stepped forward, his face twisted in anger.
——Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve shamed the entire Aiselle Family!
——I didn’t do anything wrong….
——Don’t you dare talk back to us! Plagiarism? Expulsion? Do you realize how serious this is?
——I didn’t plagiarize…
Tears began forming in Elise’s eyes.
Her father slammed his fist on the nearby table. Bang—!
——Enough! Whether you did or didn’t no longer matters. Do you think anyone will believe you over the scholars accusing you? Your name is already tarnished!
——You’ve ruined both your future and ours! Don’t you even think about Siegmund?! What will people say about him now?!
——I gave everything to be part of this family….
——Pack your things. You’ll leave for the countryside estate immediately. You’ll have no further involvement with us or the family name.
Elise stood frozen. The dream she had clung to—the hope of leaving this family, building an independent life, making a name for herself in the world of scholars, and eventually reuniting with the professor
[They never saw me as their daughter. Never.]
….All crumbled in a single moment.
* * *
Flick. Flick—!
The constant beratement, the harassment, the stares—all of it didn’t matter.
None of it hurt her.
What hurt most was the betrayal.
Instead, she wanted an explanation.
——Professor, please open the door!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
She pounded on the door of Professor Valen’s office repeatedly.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Yet no response came.
——Please…. please…. just talk to me…
Her voice cracked as desperation overtook her. Her tears fell like her shattered heart as her sobs echoed through the empty hallway.
——Why…. why won’t you answer?
Silence.
[He abandoned me….]
Her legs gave out, and she sank to the floor, pressing her forehead against the cold wood of the door.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
——Professor….
There was no explanation. Nothing. Just silence.
The scene dragged on in suffocating silence, broken only by the sound of Elise’s desperate, broken pleas and the dull thud of her head against the door.
The atmosphere pressed heavily on the audience, many gripping the arms of their seats in discomfort.
How could they not sympathize?
Elise may have been naive, but the audience had followed her journey.
From her days in the orphanage to her final year of university. It felt as though they had raised her themselves, watching her grow and struggle on stage.
* * *
Flick. Flick.
The lights dimmed, and the scene shifted.
Flick—!
A tree.
Gasps rippled throughout the theater room.
Elise walked slowly toward the tree. Then, she paused, staring silently at the rope above her.
——It’s all meaningless.
Her voice was barely a whisper, yet it reverberated through the room.
——No matter how hard I try… I’ll always be a failure to them.
She clenched her fists.
——They only saw what they wanted to see. I was never Elise Aiselle to them.
Her fingers shook as she reached out, grasping the rope in her hands.
——Even he…. abandoned me.
The audience watched in horror, unable to look away.
——I tried. I really tried…. but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. I was never enough.
Elise began tying the rope around her neck, her face devoid of emotion.
——This pain…. I want it to stop….
With one final, heartbreaking glance toward the empty stage around her, Elise tightened the rope.
Charlotte braced herself, swallowing her saliva deeply. She had rehearsed this scene more times than she could count.
Of course, she wouldn’t actually be harmed. With the use of magic and special effects, there was a small gap between the rope and her neck, creating the illusion that she was hanging.
The scene had been designed to be realistic but entirely safe.
“….”
The silence was suffocating. No one dared to speak. No one moved.
It was then.
Charlotte’s body convulsed suddenly.
“Huukh…! Huukh…!”
Her eyes widened in panic as she struggled to breathe.
On stage, Charlotte’s hands clawed at the rope around her neck. She tried using magic, only to find out her mana was sealed.
“….!”
This wasn’t part of the performance. Something had gone horribly wrong.
But the audience had no idea.
Charlotte wasn’t acting.
She was truly hanging…. on the brink of death.
A slight grin crept up on Silas’s face.
‘What do you think, Vanitas Astrea?’