Among the layers of cold calculations that defined Vanitas Astrea’s past, there were cracks.
Cracks that hinted at something more.
Vanitas stared at the documents he managed to get his hands on.
They detailed his old University examination—the one where he’d sacrificed his teammates, including Margaret Illenia and Nicolas Machiavelli.
The plan had been ruthless but effective, allowing him to secure first place in the rankings while the others failed.
Vanitas tapped the bottom of the document, where the examiner’s remarks were scrawled in red ink.
Tap. Tap.
“A cold decision, but an interesting one. Grade: A.”
He scoffed.
“Interesting, my ass.”
After the encounter with Margaret, Vanitas had an urge to re–check the document once more.
Judging by her reaction during their recent encounter, the wound still hadn’t healed.
Vanitas sighed and leaned back in his chair, his thoughts drifting.
“Margaret Illenia, huh?”
Their recent encounter had lingered in his mind. Not because of her sharp words, but because of a narrative in the game.
His exile.
After the player apprehended him, he was sent to the Crusade Order for further investigations.
Needless to be said, it was Margaret’s order responsible for the investigation.
In the end, he was sentenced to exile.
“….”
Vanitas thought back to the earlier encounter.
Her sharp tone, the flicker of hurt when he mentioned saving his assistant, the tension in her posture.
It was as if Margaret felt betrayed.
“Doesn’t matter, though.”
Because he wasn’t Vanitas Astrea.
“To be honest, I’m just filling the blanks on my own….”
Vanitas stood, walking towards the window.
No matter how much he investigated, he couldn’t find anything more regarding his past relationship with Margaret.
She wasn’t mentioned in the diary anywhere, giving him the implication that the previous Vanitas didn’t care about her at all.
He had asked Charlotte, but even she didn’t know anything about it.
All she told him was that Margaret and some of his past acquaintances used to visit the estate.
“Haaa…..”
The faint light of dawn spilled across the estate grounds, painting everything in a soft radiant glow.
He slipped his hands into his pockets as his sharp gaze scanned the horizon, clearing his thoughts off Margaret for the matter.
Taking in the sight, his thoughts shifted to the Mage Killer, Aldred.
“With this, I’ve definitely cemented how this route will play out.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
His fingers tapped rhythmically against the frame in a calculated tempo that matched his thoughts.
Vanitas began recalling the events from the game after Aldred’s capture.
“He’s not going to speak about my stigmata.”
His lips curved into a faint smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Because he won’t have the opportunity to.”
Vanitas turned, walked to his desk and flipped through the documents.
“They’ll try to interrogate him,” he said. “But Aldred wouldn’t wake up.”
The documents didn’t relate to anything at all. Just his lecture for today.
Vanitas’s amethyst eyes gleamed coldly as he skimmed through it.
“Realizing it would take a while, they’ll leave him to his own devices and return after a few hours, maybe tomorrow.”
He reached into his pocket, pulling out his watch with a snap.
Tick— Tock.
The tick of the second hand filled the room.
“Seven A.M.”
His tone dropped, like the closing of a heavy book.
“The Crusade Order starts their shift at four.”
He placed the watch back into his pocket.
“So, tomorrow is today.”
The faintest flicker of a smile crossed his lips, then vanished.
“They’ll return to his cell, only to find him dead. But the truth is, he was silenced.”
Vanitas’s voice grew softer, yet colder, his gaze distant as he pieced together the puzzle.
“That moment will trigger something bigger. Something lurking beneath the surface.”
He turned back to the window, his silhouette sharp against the light.
“The Crusade will scramble.”
The glow in his amethyst eyes deepened, reflecting something unreadable.
“This event will force them to acknowledge the danger lurking not outside their walls, but within.”
After all, it was a narrative, branched from the Mage Killer event–act.
Then, Vanitas exhaled slowly, as if setting the pieces into motion.
“Since I was the one who apprehended him….”
The smirk returned.
“They’re probably on their way here as we spea—”
To– Tok.
The sharp knock echoed through the room.
“Oh? Looks like they’re already here.” Vanitas shifted his gaze toward the door.
—My Lord, the Crusade Order is outside the gate. They’re requesting your presence.
Evan’s voice resounded from behind the door and Vanitas stood up.
His posture remained calm, but the air shifted.
He adjusted his cuffs and walked toward the door.
***
Margaret’s gaze lingered outside the car’s window, her fingers tapping against the door’s edge.
Her mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened.
Aldred was dead.
Inside the Crusade Order’s own department, no less.
Her grip tightened.
“Why?”
Her usually composed demeanor cracked as frustration seeped through.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Not under their watch.
“We’re here, Lady Margaret,” her subordinate, Clevius, said. “But I don’t see the need for you to personally see him. A messenger would have sufficed.”
“It’s fine, Clevius.” Margaret’s hand settled on the handle. “It’s much safer this way.”
“….”
Clevius remained silent and Margaret stepped outside the car.
Tak. Tak.
Her boots clicked against the pavement, taking in the familiar sight of the Astrea estate.
She had been here before along with her group of friends in the past.
Memories buried deep in her heart.
Truth be told, she didn’t want to be here. And neither did she want to see his face.
But she had no choice. Aldred Haide was killed, and she felt like Vanitas might know something.
After informing the Astrea attendants of her purpose, moments later, Vanitas emerged.
He stood on the other side of the iron gate, impeccably poised as always.
His cold gaze met hers, but Margaret’s expressions remained unchanged.
“Margaret,” he said. “To what do I owe this visit?”
“We need to talk.”
Margaret stared intently, hoping Vanitas would catch the seriousness in her tone, without her needing to elaborate.
After all, the case was still private, and his attendant was standing right beside him.
“Very well,” he replied. “Come in.”
The gates creaked open, and Margaret stepped inside.
Vanitas led her toward the study room. Not a word was exchanged until they reached their destination.
He gestured for her to sit, but she remained standing.
“I’ll be brief,” Margaret began. “Aldred Haide was killed inside our custody. You were the one who defeated him. Do you have any thoughts on the matter?”
“Hmm.” Vanitas pondered, rubbing his chin.
Margaret waited, watching as if he were piecing something together.
Finally, he spoke. “No.”
“Do you have any idea who it could be?” Margaret genuinely asked.
Another pause.
“No.”
“….”
“But you do,” Vanitas said smoothly. “Don’t you, Margaret?”
Her breath hitched. “What?”
“You heard me.” His amethyst gaze bore into her. “You already have an idea, don’t you?”
Margaret froze. He was right. She already had her own suspicions, but pushed those thoughts aside, hoping for something else.
She averted her gaze.
“That’s absurd.”
“Is it?”
Margaret took a step closer, her voice growing softer despite the tonality of her words.
“If you know something, then just say it.”
“Who else could it be but the Crusade Order?”
“….”
She paused. The thought had crossed her mind more than once.
But voicing it—admitting it—was something she hadn’t been prepared for.
“….”
Margaret’s silence spoke louder than words. Her jaw tightened, but she couldn’t deny what she already knew.
“I’m leaving.”
Margaret’s voice was curt as she headed for the door.
She wanted to ask something completely unrelated after informing him of Aldred’s death.
But she couldn’t find the courage to. Especially when his motives became clear, knowing his personality.
Just like in the past.
Margaret thought that his suspicion alone aimed to tear apart her Crusade Order.
She didn’t want to believe there was a traitor in the Crusade Order—the people she had fought alongside, trusted, and endured countless hardships with for five years.
But Vanitas’s words clung to her, forcing her to confront thoughts she had buried deep.
She didn’t want to suspect her own people.
It would tear apart the family she had worked so hard to build.
“….”
The Crusade Order wasn’t a singular entity. It was a collective of independent groups united under one banner.
The Crusade of the Round Tables.
To Margaret, her own Order wasn’t just a part of the collective.
It was hers. A family she had founded, nurtured, and cultivated into something she could be proud of.
“Take my advice, Margaret. Weed them out before you’ll regret it,” Vanitas’s voice echoed behind her.
But then, a thought arose, causing Margaret to freeze just as she reached for the doorknob.
She hadn’t seen Vanitas in over six years.
Ever since that night.
She didn’t need an apology or an explanation.
All she needed was for him to show up.
Just once.
His apology alone sufficed, and she would forgive him then without ever questioning his actions.
But he didn’t.
And when the events that followed escalated, Margaret didn’t have it in her to face him again.
Not until she finally reunited with him last night.
“Hey,” she said, turning back to face him.
Vanitas met her gaze. “Hm?”
His nonchalance only irritated her further.
“Do you regret it?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Regret what?”
“….”
Margaret bit her lip.
“….Never mind,” she muttered, turning away before he could press further.
Her grip tightened on the doorknob, and without another word, she left the room.
Vanitas stood in silence as he stared at the space where Maragaret once stood.
“Regret?” he muttered under his breath.
He wasn’t sure exactly what happened in the past between Vanitas and Margaret.
But from the subtle hints she gave off, he had come to a conclusion.
“She’s still hung up, isn’t she?”
***
Charlotte sat in the front seat of the lecture hall, jotting down notes intently.
The topic was complex but engaging.
Spirit Magic, with an emphasis on Aether-focused essences.
The Professor, a tall woman, gestured toward the written diagram on the chalkboard.
“What factors determine the strength and stability of an Aether–spirit contract?”
Charlotte’s hand shot up.
“Yes, Charlotte?” the Professor called.
“The spirit’s resonance with the summoner’s mana flow, the clarity of the summoner’s intent, and the balance of their Aether circuits. I believe these three are the main crucial factors.”
The Professor nodded. “Correct. Now, which of these do you believe is the most difficult to maintain?”
Charlotte hesitated briefly, then answered, “The balance of Aether circuits.”
“And why is that?”
“Because even minor fluctuations can disrupt the resonance. It could lead to instability, or worse, the contract’s rejection.”
The Professor’s lips curled into a smile. “You may take your seat.”
Charlotte sat back down, her pen already moving to add the discussion to her notes.
The Professor turned back to the board, tapping the diagram with her chalk.
“This is particularly important when contracting with higher-tier spirits. Their mana density requires near-perfect alignment. Even a skilled summoner can fail if they neglect their circuit stability.”
As the lecture continued, Charlotte listened intently at the Professor’s seamless explanations.
She ignored the occasional glances cast her way by her peers.
It had been like this for the past three weeks.
Despite her efforts, the distance between her and her classmates felt insurmountable.
Her last name didn’t help.
Astrea.
Making friends was harder than she anticipated.
In fact, she had only made one so far.
A cheerful girl with violet hair and violet eyes.
Cassandra Myne.
Her roommate, no less.
When her final lecture ended, Charlotte made her way to the city’s library store to check out a newly issued book.
“There it is.”
She reached for the spine of the book.
[Innovations in Magic Circuitry: 2022 Issue.]
[70,000 Rend]
Her breath hitched slightly. It was quite expensive.
Thankfully, Vanitas had given her a generous allowance during her first month at the University.
Charlotte smiled softly as she hugged the book close to her chest like it was a cherished teddy bear.
Making her way to the counter, she placed it down gently.
The clerk, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile, glanced at the book.
“This one’s been popular among University students,” the woman said.
Charlotte nodded with a smile as she reached into her bag for her pouch of Rends.
The transaction went smoothly, and the clerk handed her the book wrapped in protective paper.
“Enjoy.”
“Thank you.”
After her purchase, Charlotte returned to the University dormitories.
“….”
Her steps faltered as her gaze fell on her door.
The door was plastered with graffiti. Vile words were scrawled all over it.
[Bitch.]
[Nepotism princess.]
[The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the fucking tree!]
So on and so forth.
The petty harassment had been escalating. She had hoped ignoring it would make it stop.
“Gosh! Don’t they ever get tired?”