“We’ve been told that our stigmata symbolizes the soul.”
The Stigmata Fundamentals class wasn’t a required subject. Not everyone had a stigmata, after all.
But for those with enough extra credits—or just plain curiosity—it was an option to squeeze into their schedule.
Today, Charlotte had finally managed to squeeze it into her schedule, thanks to her grades.
“But what if I told you it’s not just symbolic, but literal?”
The room went still. A few students straightened in their chairs.
“The stigmata and the soul are one, and are connected on a level most people don’t understand. It’s why each person only has one stigmata. It’s not something you can trade, change, or give away. It’s part of you, as much as your mind or heart.”
Suddenly, a student raised their hand. The professor pointed at them.
“Yes?”
“Professor, we were taught that a stigmata’s ability reflects a person’s trait or nature. How true is that?”
“Ah, good question,” the professor said. “That belief isn’t entirely wrong, but it’s oversimplified.”
He turned to face the students. His eyes scanned each of them as if searching for the right words.
“Yes, a stigmata can reflect your nature or your core traits. A person with a fierce will may develop something like ‘Unyielding Body,’ making them harder to knock down. A strategist might awaken something like ‘Foresight’, letting them predict movements.”
The students listened intently. Stigmata was such an interesting subject, and was only touched upon during elementary.
It was often advised to hide one’s stigmata, after all.
“But that’s only half the story,” the professor said, raising a finger. “A stigmata isn’t just a reflection of one’s self. It’s also a response. Therefore, one’s stigmata is unique to one’s self.”
In other words, while no stigmata were identical, some shared similar features, but none were exactly alike.
Some students shifted uncomfortably in their seats. A few scribbled down notes.
Charlotte was one of them.
“That’s why some people awaken abilities they never expected.”
A hand shot up. It was a woman with jet-black hair and pitch-black eyes.
“Yes?” the professor prompted.
It was none other than Charlotte.
“Professor, if—hypothetically—someone’s soul was replaced or taken over, would their stigmata change? Or…. would they obtain two stigmatas?”
Some students glanced at each other, exchanging looks. It was a strange question, but an interesting one.
“Hmm… I’m not sure how to answer that, Charlotte,” the professor admitted.
The professor mulled it over, rubbing his chin.
“However,” he continued. “There has been a case of someone possessing two stigmatas.”
Everyone knew who he was talking about.
The strongest of the Great Powers. The man who stood at the peak of swordsmanship.
The one they called the Sword Saint, Aston Nietzsche.
During Aston’s childhood, he was no one remarkable.
He awakened a stigmata, but it was ordinary. It wasn’t something that could be used in combat or bring him any kind of recognition.
But one day, something changed.
Out of nowhere, another soul seeped into him. A spirit, though at the time, people called it a demon.
The villagers feared him. They called him cursed, dangerous, and in the end, they sentenced him to burn at the stake.
But before the flames could claim him, the spirit took over.
It unleashed a power far greater than anyone expected, allowing Aston to flee his village.
“It’s a rare phenomenon,” the professor explained. “Aston was the first known case, and because of him, this phenomenon was given a name.”
He picked up a piece of chalk, turning back to the board. With one smooth motion, he wrote down.
‘Stigmata Identity Disorder.’
A stigmata, after all, correlated to one’s soul. Naturally, it was led to believe that possessing two stigmatas meant an individual possessed two souls.
“This is why Sir Aston is seen as…. unpredictable. Some days, he’s calm and professional. Other days, it’s like he’s become a child again.”
To put it simply, it was something similar to dissociative identity disorder.
“Of course, you all know him as one of the Great Powers serving under the Sanctis Theocracy.”
The Sanctis Theocracy.
The progenitor Empire that gave birth to every modern Empire in the world today.
Charlotte raised her hand again.
“Yes?”
“If…. the spirit was somehow…. a demon…. then what would happen?”
The professor rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment.
“In the context of stigmata, you can never be too sure,” he said. “But in Sir Aston’s case, it was a kindred spirit, not a demon.”
He paused, letting his words settle.
“But because of his case, scholars put a lot of focus on this phenomenon. If something like that were to happen again, there’d be no way to tell if someone was possessed by a kindred spirit or a demon right away.”
The room grew tense.
“There have even been cases where people with dissociative identity disorder were suspected of having Stigmata Identity Disorder. People started to wonder if they were really dealing with a mental issue…. or something much worse. Like a demon.”
Charlotte nodded, listening intently.
“To avoid mistakes, like killing an innocent person or angering the spirits themselves, the Holy Church of Lumine created a solution.”
He tapped the board and underlined the words Soulbane Toxin in chalk.
“Soulbane Toxin. A purifying poison that targets dark energy. If a person is possessed by a demon, even a high-grade one, the toxin will affect them to some degree. If nothing happens, then the person is safe.”
Silence filled the room.
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “….And if it does work?”
The professor’s gaze darkened.
“Then you know what you’re dealing with,” he said. “And you do whatever it takes to exorcise it.”
Charlotte mulled it over. She had done as prescribed by the church over two months ago.
But the results were clear. The being possessing her brother right now was anything but a demon.
That should’ve been the end of it.
But it wasn’t.
Her stigmata, Breath of the Spirits, refused to stay silent. It whispered in her head constantly, pointing to one thing.
A demonic presence.
Not just anywhere.
But within her brother.
She raised her hand again.
“Professor, what about the cases of demonic spirit possession? Hypothetically, if a demon managed to blend in with humanity, managing to bypass the Soulbane Toxin, and lived as that person…. is it possible for them to pretend to be that person completely?”
The professor’s brows raised in curiosity. It was such a specific question.
“You’re asking an interesting question,” he said. “But to answer you plainly, no.”
He raised a finger.
“There has never been a single recorded case of a demon successfully pretending to be human. Not in any of our historical records, not in any of the church’s texts, and not in any of the scholarly reports.”
“Demons are not subtle creatures,” he continued. “They are chaotic and destructive. They are incapable of restraint and integration. Rather, they corrupt.”
Charlotte nodded and wrote everything down in her notebook.
“Unlike spirits, demons cannot coexist. They are destruction incarnate long before magic was discovered.”
His gaze briefly flickered to Charlotte.
“They announced their presence with violence. They tore cities apart. They butchered thousands. And they left behind marks that are still carved into this world today.”
The professor picked up a piece of chalk.
“Take this, for example,” he said.
The professor began sketching a strange, jagged symbol on the board.
“This is one of many demonic runes found on ancient ruins.”
He underlined it with a stroke of the chalk.
“We still don’t know what it means. No one does. It’s been studied for centuries by some of the most brilliant scholars, but to this day, it remains undeciphered.”
The entire ordeal went on.
What started as a lesson on the intricacies of stigmata, had shifted into a lesson about demons, and a back-and-forth Q&A session between the professor and Charlotte.
***
There was still a lot to do.
Reality hit Vanitas hard after everything that had happened.
But the constant ache from the cancer was becoming a real nuisance.
After placing an order for a revolver, Vanitas turned his attention to the stack of documents and envelopes on the desk of the Astrea Estate office.
[Clover Pharmaceuticals — Dividend Report]
[Victory Textiles Ltd. — Quarterly Payout]
[Silverbyte Solutions — Special Dividend Notice]
.
.
Page after page, it was the same thing. Dividend reports, quarterly statements, and earnings summaries.
All of them were results of investments made by the original Vanitas.
He glanced at one of the reports from Clover Pharmaceuticals.
∎ Initial Investment: 150,000,000 Rend
∎ Dividend Yield: 6.5%
∎ Total Payout: 9,750,000 Rend (Annual)
∎ Payment Frequency: Quarterly (4 payments of 2,437,500 Rend)
“Quarterly disbursement…. not bad.”
After sorting through them all, the total earnings from the investments came to 1,318,000,121 Rend.
Vanitas glanced at the clock. 11:41 P.M.
There was still time to train.
Despite his terminal illness, Vanitas wanted to live as healthily as possible.
Just as Vanitas stood to leave, a voice echoed from behind.
——Vanitas Astrea.
“…!”
Vanitas flinched and turned around.
From behind the curtains, a figure emerged like a magician. As the moonlight illuminated their figure, Vanitas’s expression hardened.
“….”
Of course.
He had been expecting something like this.
The original Vanitas had ties to the underworld.
After sifting through documents and receipts, there were deals regarding dark magic artifacts, forbidden scrolls, brokers, and underworld organizations.
He had already cut ties with anything that didn’t benefit him. But some connections weren’t so easy to sever.
It was only a matter of time before someone from that world came to find him.
Pouring mana into the spectacles, Vanitas narrowed his eyes.
———「Name: Luca Gambino」———
◆ Age: 29
◆ Stigmata: None
◆ Essence Discovered:
—Pyro: Master
—Zephyr: Intermediate
—Gaia: Advanced
—Umbra: Master
————————————
Gambino.
In the original game, the Gambino family was one of the five major crime syndicates in the underworld.
They had deep ties to some government officials, and had done favors for several aristocratic families.
Simply put, it was the mafia.
“Luca,” Vanitas said.
“Your debt is overdue, Vanitas Astrea.”
The Astrea family was one of the many aristocratic families indebted to them, dating back to their grandfather’s time.
It was a secret not even the original Vanitas knew. Not until he inherited the head position.
Lacking experience as the head of the family, the original Vanitas had leaned on the mafia for handling shady affairs.
At least, that was Chae Eun-woo’s assumption.
“How much was it?” Vanitas asked.
“112,500,000 Rend.”
“….”
112.5 million Rend.
It wasn’t an impossible number, but it was far from small. For a brief moment, his mind shifted to the receipt. The date on it was from a year ago.
The original loan was 90 million Rend. It was a manageable amount back then. But with interest and a few “service fees,” it had ballooned.
“Break it down for me,” Vanitas said.
Luca smirked. He loved this part.
“Then there’s monthly interest, 3% on the principal.”
“3%?” Vanitas raised an eyebrow. “That’s less than I expected.”
“We’re not sharks, Astrea. We don’t eat the fish, we farm them.” Luca grinned. “We want you to stay afloat.”
That could be further from the truth. While the terms weren’t predatory to aristocrats, to the commoners, it was an entirely different story.
“Then there’s the service fees handling charges.”
“Service fees,” Vanitas repeated. “For what, exactly?”
Luca shrugged, hands raised like he was being framed for a crime. This was something that wasn’t broken down in the receipt.
“Missed payments. A favor here and there. You remember that little ‘shipment’ we cleaned up for you, right?”
“….How much?”
“8.1 million Rend.”
“I see.”
If the Gambino family wanted their money, they’d have to take it through a method that benefited him as well.
He wasn’t about to bow to them like his predecessor. If the Gambino family wanted to play smart, then he’d play smarter.
An idea formed.
An orphanage.
It was the perfect solution. It would be untraceable once it was disguised as a “charitable donation.”
The Astrea family would be praised for their philanthropy, and no one would question a large donation to an orphanage.
Vanitas reached for a fresh sheet of paper. He drafted the outline for a donation contract.
As he reached the final line, he glanced up.
“The Mafia will handle the complicated matters, correct?”
“Of course.”
Satisfied, Vanitas pressed the Astrea family seal into the wax. He folded the document neatly, slid it into a black envelope, and set it aside.
Luca, now standing by the window, watched the Astrea estate.
“By the way, we’ve been keeping an eye on your recent moves. Index, huh?” Luca glanced over his shoulder. “Quite noble of you, Astrea.”
“Heh.”
“You thinking of cutting ties with the underworld?” Luca asked casually.
“That depends. If it’s easy, I might consider it. If it’s not….” He trailed off, letting the silence fill in the blanks.
“Cutting ties ain’t ever easy,” Luca said. “But you know that already, don’t you?”
Vanitas didn’t respond right away. His eyes lingered on Luca, gauging how much he could be trusted.
Eventually, he spoke.
“If I need to clean up loose ends. I’ll let you know.”
Luca’s grin turned into a full smirk. He gave a small nod with his hands in his coat pockets.
“Good. The Gambino family’s always ready for that kind of work.”
“Of course you are.”
He could hear Luca chuckling softly as he made his way toward the door.
“Take care, Astrea,” Luca called over his shoulder. “It’s always the clean hands that end up the dirtiest.”
The door shut behind him. Vanitas sank in his chair and breathed out a sigh of relief.
“I’ll need to reinforce the barrier….”
***
Cemeteries always stirred something deep within Chae Eun–woo. It felt like a place caught between worlds.
The soft rustle of the breeze against the trees. The distant chirping of birds.
Standing there with Charlotte, all he felt was emptiness.
It reminded him too much of the Chae family. His father, his mother, and his little sister.
No matter how many times he visited a cemetery, it always brought him back to the lowest points of his life.
Vanitas glanced down at the headstone.
[Vanir Astrea]
[1961 – 2020]
[Clarice Astrea]
[1970 – 2010]
Vanitas and Charlotte’s parents. He didn’t particularly know them, nor had he ever met them.
Yet, the somber atmosphere still pressed down on him.
“You know,” Charlotte began. “I never really expected my father would do something like that to my brother.”
Vanitas remained quiet, listening intently.
“I still think about those days…. when everything felt simpler.”
“Do you still distrust me?” Vanitas asked, glancing her way.
“Hm?”
“I’ve been here for nearly three months,” he said. “I can’t help but wonder what you think of me.”
Charlotte turned to face him.
“Trust….” She paused for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “If I’m being honest, I still can’t shake off the doubt.”
Her eyes lingered on his face.
“Can you blame me?” she continued. “You wear the face of the person I despised the most in this world. But you’re not him.”
Vanitas tilted his head slightly. “And what about that whole.… demon fiasco?”
“I’ve thought about it.”
Her eyes closed for a moment, as if she were steadying herself.
“Which brings me to this question.”
When they reopened, she looked at him seriously.
“Is my brother still in there?”
It was a question she could never find the courage to ask back then.
“Ah….”
Vanitas understood why such a question occurred. It was the game’s concept of double stigmatas. It had also crossed his mind. What if there were three entities using the same body?
But no, that wasn’t the case this time. He had three stigmatas, yet only had one soul.
He wasn’t sure where the original Vanitas had disappeared off to, but he knew he wasn’t here anymore.
He was certain of it.
“No,” he shook his head. “He’s not.”
Charlotte nodded silently.
His vast knowledge of complex magic theories and formulas, his understanding of this world, his refined communication skills, his ability to manage assets as a head, how quickly he adapted to his position, even his preference for older things over modern trends.
It all added up.
Of course, if she asked him directly, he would vehemently deny it. He had already established that, giving her a strange and false name.
But Charlotte was certain of the truth. Otherwise, there was no other answer.
The spirit inhabiting her brother’s body was none other than the Archmage, Zen.