Despite announcing that he would only speak to the Headmaster, who wasn’t even present, Vanitas found himself bombarded with questions.
——What was that all about?
——Silas Ainsley? From the Ainsley Family?
——Where’s your sister?
Naturally, they assumed that Charlotte had suddenly acted out and attacked a fellow classmate.
Vanitas sighed, visibly irritated. “Don’t be ridiculous. Your brains might be that of monkeys, but at least try not to act like it.”
——M–Monkeys?!
The statement enraged some professors. However, none could retaliate, knowing Vanitas Astrea’s current position in the academic world.
Still, murmurs of discontent filled the room.
“Enough,” Vanitas said. “I’ve already explained that I will speak with the Headmaster. Until then, this matter is closed. You’ll get no further comments from me.”
The professors eventually backed off, exchanging uneasy glances.
“If any of you even think of approaching my sister….”
Some things were better left unsaid.
It was evident to everyone that the issue was a personal matter between the two students. As Charlotte’s guardian, Vanitas had full authority over her and the situation.
“Now, get lost,” he muttered.
Without further protest, the professors dispersed, grumbling quietly amongst themselves. Vanitas turned to Charlotte.
“Can you go home without me?” he asked. “There are things I still need to take care of here. Evan is waiting for you in the parking lot.”
“Ah…. yes.”
Just as she was about to turn and leave, Vanitas placed a gentle hand on her head, stopping her in place.
“That play,” he began, “You were incredible. Truly. I look forward to seeing your next performances.”
“….”
Charlotte’s eyes widened slightly. For a moment, it felt like she had gone back to the past—when her parents and brother had showered her with praise after her childhood theater performances.
“Thank you,” she whispered softly, a smile forming on her lips. “….Oppa.”
Vanitas ruffled her hair gently. “Go home. You’ve earned the rest.”
Charlotte nodded and walked away, her heart feeling a little lighter as she left the theater.
Adjusting his collar, Vanitas was about to leave when he noticed a figure from the corner of his eye.
“Haven’t you heard? This area is off-limits for the time being,” he said without turning fully.
“I recognized it.”
The figure stepped out of the shadows, her long black hair flowing freely down her back. Ruby-like eyes locked onto Vanitas’s.
“That play…. it was about you and Arwen, wasn’t it?”
It was Anastasia.
Vanitas met her gaze. “What do you think?”
“I’m not here to judge you,” she replied. “But that’s cold, even for you, Professor.”
With that, she turned and walked past him, heading for the exit.
“Some things are better left unsaid,” Vanitas said. “For everyone’s sake.”
“….”
Anastasia paused, glancing back at him for a moment before continuing on her way. Without another word, she disappeared through the doors, leaving Vanitas alone in the theater.
The past had already been settled.
Years ago, Arwen attempted to take her own life, hoping to take the blame for the dark magic accusations and protect Vanitas Astrea.
To sacrifice herself for the person she loved most.
Initially, rumors of her involvement with dark magic had spread, leading to accusations.
Without hesitation, Vanitas took on the blame to protect her. However, Arwen, seeing no future for herself, decided to end her life to spare him from further condemnation.
‘Arwen! Please, you have to live! You have to…!’
In that moment of despair, it was Vanitas Astrea who saved her.
But to call it salvation was an overstatement. There was no salvation when the one saved had been left in a vegetative state.
Ironically, that event became the catalyst for his interest in dark magic.
Chae Eun-woo had now pieced together some of the missing fragments about Arwen.
She had been the reason Vanitas turned his attention to dark magic in the first place.
The hope that dark magic might offer a cure for his terminal illness—cancer—and a way to restore Arwen’s consciousness drove him.
Eventually leading to the starting point of the game’s narrative.
“But because of my transmigration, none of it ever amounted to anything.”
He stepped out of the theater room, taking in the cold air.
“No happy endings.”
As Vanitas made his way toward the nurse’s office, he paused, feeling the cold sensation of metal on his neck.
“You again,” he muttered, glancing at Zia from the corner of his eye.
“You caught me off guard earlier,” she said. “But I’ve come under orders. Lady Irene wishes to meet you.”
“Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“How long do I have to wait?” Zia tilted her head slightly with an empty expression. That robot-like tone of hers was quite concerning.
“Point that thing somewhere else first,” Vanitas said, gesturing to the dagger in her hand.
“You’re surprisingly calm about this,” Zia remarked, not putting the dagger down.. “I’ve done this countless times, but I’ve never met anyone so casual about it.”
“You talk too much.”
“….Apologies.”
Despite her words, Vanitas remained unfazed. In fact, he seemed cooperative and reasonable.
Zia wasn’t one to favor unnecessary bloodshed. This wasn’t meant to be a covert mission in the first place. Her task was simply to deliver an invitation.
After a moment’s hesitation, she finally lowered the dagger.
“Get lost.”
Vanitas took his chance.
In his perspective, they were within university grounds. If a fight broke out, alarms would be raised. Professors and security would come running. Even someone like Zia couldn’t handle that kind of heat on her own.
“I can’t,” Zia responded. “Lady Irene has ordered me to—”
“I’ll meet her.”
“Really—?”
“Soon.”
“….”
Zia opened her mouth to speak again, but Vanitas raised his hand, cutting her off.
“Tell her this. On the day of the Saintess’ inauguration, I will be there.”
“Is that so…?”
“Do I look like the type to lie?”
“Yes.” Zia nodded without a moment’s hesitation.
“….”
“I’m good at reading people,” she added. “Those eyes of yours. They’re like mine. I can tell we’re alike in some ways.”
“….”
She had a point. Now that he thought about it, Zia seemed to operate with a mindset similar to his. Particularly in ways that those in the world of espionage understood.
Vanitas exhaled. “You’re persistent.”
“Thank you.” She tilted her head slightly as though unsure if that was a compliment or an insult.
“Now get going,” he said, waving her off. “I’ll keep my word.”
Zia studied him for a moment, then nodded. Moments later, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving Vanitas alone.
He rubbed his neck where the dagger had been before fixing his collar and walking ahead.
* * *
It took some time for Astrid to finish her business with the professors, and Franz had patiently waited for her. Finally, she arrived.
“All done?” he asked.
“Yes.” Astrid nodded. “Sorry it took a while. There was some sort of misunderstanding.”
Professor Dahlia had called her in, only to send her to Professor Eamon.
Eamon, in turn, sent her to Professor Vanitas, who simply sent her back without saying much.
The whole ordeal left her confused. Did Professor Vanitas want to see her?
Because, if she had to be honest, she wouldn’t have minded—
“It’s fine. Get in,” Franz said, cutting into her thoughts.
He had offered to drive her back to her mansion, which was why he had waited.
As Astrid settled into the backseat, Franz raised an eyebrow.
“What are you doing? Get into the passenger seat,” he said.
“….You’re driving?” she asked, blinking in surprise.
“Yes. Why not?”
“No, it’s just.… surprising.”
Franz chuckled as he started the car. “What’s so surprising about it?”
“I don’t know. I just assumed you had a driver.”
“It’s nice to drive out every once in a while.”
Silence settled between them. They weren’t close enough for endless small talk, but truth be told, Astrid found it comforting.
Spending time with her brother wasn’t something that happened often.
It wasn’t every day that Franz made time for her. It had been that way since she was a child, and nothing had changed even now.
To put it into perspective, there was a twenty-one-year age gap between them.
“That play,” Franz began. “I heard Vanitas’s sister is a friend of yours.”
“Yes,” Astrid replied.
Franz glanced at her briefly before returning his focus to the road.
“I’d be careful around that professor if I were you.”
Astrid blinked, caught off guard by his sudden statement. “Why would you say that?”
“Gut feeling,” Franz said. “He doesn’t seem like a normal person. I know how these aristocrats operate. There’s definitely more to him beneath the surface.”
Astrid remained silent, pondering his words.
Vanitas Astrea was undeniably a mystery.
Despite his notable accomplishments, there was something about him that unsettled Franz.
It wasn’t just his composure or intelligence. It was his indifference to the offer to join his faction.
The puppet Astrid had killed.
Most would have at least shown some reaction, but Vanitas had brushed it off like it was insignificant.
That wasn’t something Franz could easily overlook.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, brother,” Astrid said with a sigh. “But honestly, I think I should be more careful around you than around the professor.”
“Eh?” Franz blinked, caught off guard. “Why?”
“The other day, some woman approached me, asking if you had dumped her or not.”
“….”
“Who knows what other shady characters would approach me next?”
* * *
There were more pressing matters than Silas. For one, this wasn’t a quest in the usual sense.
However, neglecting this aspect of the narrative would ultimately lead to an unwinnable game over.
For that reason, Vanitas had Astrid running in circles, sending her from professor to professor.
When she finally reached him, he simply said, “What are you doing here? I’m busy.”
She pouted and left in frustration. But that was all Vanitas needed. By stalling her, he prevented her from leaving earlier with Franz.
That couldn’t be allowed to happen.
It was simple.
A third party was targeting Franz, waiting for him to leave the university grounds.
Vanitas strolled through the halls and made his way to the parking lot. From a distance, he saw Astrid get into Franz’s car. Moments later, the car drove off.
Flick—!
Just then, another vehicle came to life. A bike.
Vroom—!
The bike roared as it sped toward the parking lot’s exit. However, before it could leave, Vanitas cast Windburst, dismantling the vehicle and sending the rider crashing to the ground.
——….Ugh.
The man groaned in pain, still wearing his helmet.
“Who do you think you’re planning to follow?” Vanitas asked, stepping forward.
“Professor….” The man’s muffled voice echoed from beneath the helmet. He recognized Vanitas, and Vanitas knew there was a chance he might retaliate.
There was only one way to catch him off guard.
“Take that helmet off,” Vanitas commanded, his voice cold.
The man hesitated for a moment before complying.
Vanitas narrowed his eyes as the face beneath the helmet came into view.
“Ezra.”
* * *
Ezra had his reasons for targeting Franz. Initially, he aimed to climb the ladder by going after every key figure connected to a specific case, eventually leading to Franz.
The case?
The murder of his parents.
He knew the key figures involved that day. He had already killed one of them.
However, the others had proven difficult to track. Perhaps Ezra had only managed to find Wesley because of his connection to Astrid.
He hadn’t expected an opportunity to arise so soon during the festival. Yet here he was.
On that day, Ezra had awakened his stigmata. The very nature of stigmata itself was hidden from each other. Thus, Ezra was unsure whether this was the norm or not.
———「Stigmata」———
「Dark Mana Veins」
◆ Allows the user to convert the essence of their mana core into pure corruption.
————————————
But in the first place, Ezra didn’t understand why this was his stigmata. Why was he burdened with such a dangerous power? Wouldn’t using it put him in serious trouble?
Still, he had trained to control it. It was undeniably powerful. Unlike traditional dark magic, this was different.
The dark energy didn’t stem from external corruption. It was the essence of his mana itself.
Pure, untainted dark magic.
“Ugh.…” Ezra groaned as he stood, pushing himself up. His bike lay toppled over beside him.
——Ezra.
He turned toward the source of the voice.
“What are you doing here…. professor?”