A new thesis submission had just arrived, and one of the scholars, Tristan, began reading it. It had been a while since they’d received a new submission.
“….”
As he read, his expression changed several times. When he finally finished, his eyes went wide.
“This… is this real?”
“What’s wrong, Elder Tristan?” another scholar asked.
“Just read the first page and you’ll see.”
Tristan handed the paper over. The other scholar read the first page, then kept going until the end. When he finished, he turned to Tristan, equally stunned.
“I see what you mean. If the rest of the contents are similar, we need to do a cross verification.”
“Exactly.” Tristan nodded.
A cross verification meant they had to summon the author to verify that the thesis was truly their work.
“Who’s the author? I don’t see a name anywhere.”
“It’s on the last page,” Tristan said.
The scholar flipped to the final page and read it carefully.
“Vanitas Astrea?”
“….Yes.”
The name wasn’t entirely unfamiliar.
Vanitas Astrea had submitted a thesis two years ago, but it wasn’t anything groundbreaking. It was published mainly because it explored a single new idea.
This new submission, however, was filled with concepts that could shake the entire academic world.
For someone with barely any credentials in the Scholars Institute, a thorough verification was essential to ensure the work’s integrity.
“I’ll go meet him myself.”
***
“Call.”
“I fold.”
The chips clinked as one of the men pushed his stack into the center. Irene sat across the table, her fingers lightly tapping her cards.
“Your move, miss,” one of the men said.
Without a word, Irene slid a neat stack of chips forward.
“Raise.”
“….”
The man hesitated. His hand hovered over his cards before finally tossing them down.
“Fold.”
The others at the table exchanged glances. One of the remaining players chuckled nervously, pushing his chips forward.
“Call.”
The dealer flipped the next card. Irene glanced at it briefly, then leaned back in her chair.
Irene’s poker face was impeccable as always, though to the men at the table, it looked like she was nervous.
“Alright,” one of the men said, grinning. “All in.”
The pile of chips in the center grew even larger, drawing the attention of nearby onlookers. Irene’s gaze flicked to the pot before she pushed her stack forward.
“All in,” she said.
Flip— Flip—
The dealer revealed the final cards. The man slapped his cards down on the table.
“Four of a kind!” he declared, grinning.
Irene placed her cards down one by one. She didn’t even have to say anything.
“A straight flush….?” the man said it for her, his grin vanishing immediately, replaced by a stunned expression.
The man’s grin vanished, replaced by a stunned expression. The dealer confirmed the result and pushed the massive pot toward Irene.
“Well played, gentlemen,” Irene said, standing up.
Without waiting for a response, she collected her winnings and walked away, leaving the men at the table stunned.
On regular occasions, Irene would’ve been revered wherever she went, almost like that of a celebrity. But her status was only recognized in official settings.
Here, in the casino area of the Theocracy, she was just another player.
As she headed to her car, she spotted Zia waiting by the door.
“Welcome back, Lady Irene,” Zia said, opening the backseat door for her. “I assume everything went smoothly?”
“Yes, Zia,” Irene replied as she slid into the car. “Even with all their attempts to cheat, I still came out on top.”
It was simple, really. Thanks to her stigmata, 「Eye of Midas」, Irene could perceive the value of her opponent’s hands. Winning was inevitable.
In other words, she was a living gambling hack.
As the car sped off, Irene picked up the document beside her. It was a contract for a partnership to franchise her brand, Cafe Laurent, in the Theocracy.
Cafe Laurent was a well-known cafe in Aetherion, popular among students as a place to study or socialize. Its success had caught attention, leading to an offer to expand into the Theocracy.
“Hmm….”
Irene frowned as she reviewed the document. She wasn’t happy with the proposed location.
Turning to Zia, she asked, “What do you think, Zia? Should we relocate the construction before it starts?”
“Yes,” Zia nodded. “I’ve researched better locations for the cafe, Lady Irene. If any of these interest you, I’ll handle the arrangements.”
“Alright,” Irene said, picking up the documents from the seat beside Zia.
Indeed, Zia was as reliable as ever. She understood how Irene thought and knew the proposal wouldn’t meet her standards.
Scanning the options Zia had prepared, Irene pointed to one.
“This one. Can we relocate it here?”
“I don’t see any issue,” Zia replied. “Offer them a bit of money and some incentives, and they’ll let us bulldoze their building without a second thought.”
The land Irene chose already had an existing building in a prime location.
But with enough money and perks, purchasing the land and tearing down the building wouldn’t be a problem.
Especially with the support of the merchant backing Cafe Laurent’s expansion, the deal would be sealed in no time.
“Then get it done,” Irene said, closing the folder.
“As you wish, Lady Irene,” Zia replied, already making mental notes.
Setting the document aside, Irene glanced out the car window. For such an old empire, the Theocracy was surprisingly well-maintained.
“….”
Though the buildings were old, they were polished and renewed, showing no signs of wearing down.
“Ah, Zia,” Irene said, still looking out. “Apparently, the new Saintess has been chosen. I’ve been invited to the inauguration ceremony.”
“Is that so?” Zia replied, glancing at Irene through the rearview mirror. “Do you plan to attend?”
“What do you think?” Irene asked. “These so-called prophets the Theocracy parades around are just scams to keep people in line and strengthen their beliefs.”
“I think you should go, Lady Irene,” Zia said, keeping her eyes on the road.
“Why?” Irene asked, curious.
She had been busy with her businesses, meetings, and other activities. Researching anything beyond her work had taken a backseat. Zia, however, always seemed to stay informed.
“This new Saintess,” Zia began, “there’s a rumor she’s an Oracle.”
“An Oracle?” Irene’s interest piqued.
“Yes. They say she’s predicted a lot of events. Or rather, she’s always in the right place at the right time. With so many coincidences, people started to believe she might have that kind of ability.”
“….That sounds ridiculous.”
Even if it was some form of stigmata, it was hard to believe.
“Indeed, rumors are just rumors until proven otherwise, Lady Irene. But who knows? Maybe she can see your future too.”
“I’ll think about it.”
***
Government Hospitals couldn’t be trusted, especially considering the kind of illness Vanitas had.
Still, there was one quack Chae Eun-woo used to visit during his time as a player—a rundown clinic.
He had first found it after failing a fetch quest and suffering a three-day debuff from a monster. With no Rend to spare for proper hospitals, he resorted to clinics, eventually stumbling upon this one.
Located on the eastern side of Aetherion, in Millin City, the rundown clinic was far from reputable.
Yet, for the fifth time since arriving in this world, Vanitas found himself standing outside its doors.
He had tried to visit before, but the doctor was always out. Today, with some free time, he decided to try again.
“….”
The doctor was known for traveling often, and was rarely around. There was still a chance he wasn’t here today, either.
Still, Vanitas stepped inside, hoping this time he’d finally catch the elusive doctor.
As always, the clinic was quiet.
No staff, no modern equipment—just a few chairs for waiting and a couple of empty rooms. According to the doctor, the clinic was more like a personal venture than an actual medical facility.
Tick. Tock.
Four hours passed. Vanitas waited patiently, reading a book.
Finally, one of the doors creaked open, and a figure stepped out. A man in a white lab coat emerged, stretching as if he had just woken up.
“Doctor Yves,” Vanitas said, standing immediately.
“Huh?” The doctor blinked at him, adjusting his glasses. “A patient? Here? That’s rare.”
“It’s been difficult to catch you, Doctor.”
“Yeah, I mostly use this place to sleep,” Yves replied casually. “If you want a checkup, go to Ilnes Hospital. This place isn’t in operation.”
Ilnes Hospital was the government-run facility in Millin City, where Yves officially worked when not traveling.
Yves yawned again, but something caught his attention.
“Wait…. I locked the door. How did you get in?”
He turned and saw the dismantled lock. Vanitas had forced his way in.
“Ah, I see,” Yves said with a chuckle, though his expression quickly darkened. “Get out.”
“I’m here for a checkup.”
“And I said, get out.”
“I have the money,” Vanitas said.
“Do I look like I care?” Yves snapped. “Out.”
Vanitas nodded and turned toward the door, as if leaving.
“The reason I didn’t go to the hospital—”
“I don’t care—”
“Mana Core Degeneration Syndrome.”
“….”
Vanitas left the clinic after muttering those words, footsteps echoing on the pavement. He hadn’t gone far before he heard quick steps behind him and Yves’s voice calling out.
“Wait.”
Yves caught up, crouching slightly with his hands on his knees, huffing.
“That. What you said. Are you serious?”
“Why else would I come to your clinic?” Vanitas replied.
“….”
Mana Core Degeneration Syndrome.
A rare and deadly condition—a kind of cancer that attacked the mana core. It was a sensitive topic in the medical field.
There was no cure, and the so-called treatment was little more than an experiment.
In truth, it was trial and error, with patients used as test subjects. Some even called it a way for hospitals to extort money from desperate victims.
After a moment of silence, Yves straightened and said, “Follow me.”
…..
Inside the rundown clinic, the contrast was evident.
While the exterior and lobby were in poor condition, the office, facilities, and laboratory were equipped with state-of-the-art equipment.
The reason was simple. Yves had personally funded it all.
“This is…?” Vanitas asked, eyeing the machine.
“A scanner for cancer cells,” Yves explained. “You came here knowing full well that government hospitals don’t have proper treatment for your condition. I built this machine myself.”
Before seeking Yves, Vanitas had done his research.
The NPC, Yves, was a man who had lost his wife years ago to a terminal illness.
Vanitas didn’t know which illness it was, but he figured a man who had suffered such a loss might feel sympathy for someone facing a similar fate.
Judging by the machine, it was likely cancer-related.
“I trust you,” Vanitas said.
“Alright,” Yves replied, turning to prepare the machine. “Take off your shirt.”
“….”
Vanitas hesitated but eventually complied, removing his shirt and lying down inside the machine as Yves adjusted the settings.
“Stay still.”
Vanitas nodded. The scanner began to light up, tracing faint lines of mana energy across his chest as Yves carefully monitored the readings.
“….”
There was a slight stinging sensation, likely from the magical radiation, but it was manageable.
When the scan was complete, Vanitas stepped out, put his shirt back on, and sat down as Yves jotted notes on a clipboard.
“Name?” Yves asked.
Vanitas blinked, realizing he hadn’t introduced himself. “Vanitas Astrea.”
“Uh-huh, the Astrea Viscount Family, huh?” Yves muttered as he finished writing, then looked up at Vanitas with the clipboard in hand.
“From what I’ve uncovered, based on the scan, the cancer cells were dormant for about 18 years. They started becoming active roughly six years ago.”
“Six? Not four?” Vanitas asked.
“No. Why would you think four?” Yves replied.
“That’s what I was told by a doctor before.”
Yves sighed, setting the clipboard down. “Let me be clear. Hospitals and clinics are businesses at their core. When it comes to conditions like Mana Core Degeneration Syndrome, or Mana Core Cancer, as I prefer to call it, patients are often misled. It’s an uncharted area in medicine, and research takes priority over patient welfare.”
“….”
Vanitas frowned but remained silent, listening.
“You get where I’m going with this?” Yves asked.
“They lie to patients to turn them into test subjects.”
“Exactly,” Yves confirmed. “Let me guess. They told you you’d live one, two, maybe three years?”
“Two.”
“Well, here’s the truth. You’re not dying in two years.”
“….”
Vanitas almost felt a sense of relief, but Yves’s next words quickly erased it.
“You have about ten years. That’s the rough estimate based on the scan.”
“Hoo…” Vanitas exhaled, but this time it was less relief and more acceptance.
“That’s why you came, isn’t it?” Yves asked. “To know how long you actually have.”
“Yes.”
That was his true intent. After his mana reserves expanded, he wondered if his lifespan had increased as well.
If so, maybe Yves’s estimate was off, and the ten years could be due to the mana increase. No one could say for sure.
“Well, that’s the answer. Ten years. Could be nine, maybe eight. But I can tell you this. You’re doing a good job maintaining your health.”
Vanitas nodded.
“Now, ready for the next part?” Yves asked.
“What?”
“Treatment.”
“….”
Vanitas raised an eyebrow. They had just discussed how treatment for Mana Core Cancer was often a scam.
“What kind of treatment?” he asked.
Still, he decided to hear him out. Yves wasn’t the type to con him.
This was the same man who had lost a loved one, and who had once saved Chae Eun–woo’s life when he was afflicted with a fatal debuff during his time as a player.
“I won’t promise you anything,” Yves began. “This is still experimental, and I lack the funding to move forward. But if it works, I might be able to save your life.”
“….”
Considering the nature of Mana Core Cancer, those were bold words—promises no doctor should ever make.
“One percent,” Yves said bluntly.
“One percent?”
“Yes. That’s the current success rate. To put it bluntly, it’s a gamble. But it’s the best shot you’ll get without being turned into a test subject by some hospital.”
Vanitas thought for a moment. “What’s the process?”
“I’ve been working on a mana purification treatment,” Yves explained. “The idea is to isolate and purge the cancerous mana cells. It’s risky and painful, and if it fails, there’s a chance it could speed up your condition.”
Vanitas frowned. “Why offer it to me, then?”
Yves leaned back, crossing his arms.
“Because you’re healthy enough to handle it. Besides, you came here for a reason, didn’t you? Even if you won’t take the offer, your timeline is still ten years at best.”
“….”
Vanitas frowned. It sounded like just another experiment.
“It’s not an experiment,” Yves said, as if reading his thoughts. “I’ve already tested the machine on a patient with the same illness as yours.”
“And where is that person now?” Vanitas asked.
“Up there,” Yves said, pointing upward.
“…I see.” Vanitas’s expression darkened. It wasn’t exactly reassuring.
“As I said, it’s a treatment,” Yves clarified. “But it was too late for that patient. The cancer had already progressed too far.”
Vanitas thought carefully. If this treatment worked, it would buy him more time so he didn’t have to rush his search for the Archives of Haven.
After a few moments, he made up his mind.
“What you need is funding, correct?”
“Yes,” Yves nodded. “What I have isn’t enough to fully develop the machine.”
“If I fund you, how long will it take to complete the machine?”
“By estimate, fifteen years.”
“….”
Vanitas frowned. What was the point of funding a machine that would take fifteen years to finish when he had only ten years left to live?
Yves spoke again, as if reading his thoughts.
“Don’t misunderstand. I’ll still treat you every month. These treatments, in theory, could extend your lifespan. The machine is functional, just not fully optimized to cure you yet.”
“That makes sense.”
“So,” Yves leaned forward. “What do you decide?”
Vanitas exhaled, weighing his options.
“I’ll fund it. But only if you guarantee the treatments will at least keep me alive long enough to find another solution.”
Yves nodded. “I’ll do everything I can.”
***
Tick. Tock.
The treatment took five hours. By the time it was over, the moon hung high in the sky.
Vanitas had already left a while ago, and Yves sat back in his chair, staring at the briefcase full of cash.
“Roxanne….”
His wife.
“I wonder…. will I be able to save that boy’s life when I couldn’t save yours?”
Roxanne, his beloved wife, had died of Mana Core Degeneration Syndrome. An illness of unknown origins—or at least, that’s what the public believed.
But Yves knew better.
Recalling his conversation with Vanitas, his eyes narrowed.
“Artificially created. An accident.”
A terminal illness born from a failed experiment. Yves had pieced that much together over years of relentless investigation.
What he did know was that Roxanne, his wife, had been one of the alchemists involved in the research.
“An experiment to artificially expand the mana core.”
To artificially create an Archmage. Perhaps even to mass-produce human weapons.
But the deeper he dug, the harder it became to pinpoint the ones truly responsible.
Every lead led to another organization, which led to yet another. It was a never-ending spider–web.
And then, forty years ago, Roxanne fell ill. The illness that had taken her life.
A sudden memory surfaced. Another woman Yves had met long ago.
“Clarice….”
Clarice Astrea. Roxanne’s colleague and a fellow researcher on the same project.
“Is this fate?”
Clarice had died too. The Astrea family had kept the details quiet, but Yves had a good idea what had happened.
The same fate befell every alchemist and researcher involved in the experiment.
They had all died.
Yves’s resolve hardened. He would see this through to the end. Vanitas’s arrival had finally broken the decade-long roadblock he’d faced.
“Is this a chance from the gods?” Yves muttered. “A chance to atone for the sins Roxanne and I committed against you, Clarice?”
A chance to save Clarice’s son.
Vanitas Astrea.