Chapter 206: Caught?

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Beneath the steadfastly floating Sky Island, a prestigious academy stood.

With summer vacation in full swing, the usual liveliness brought by students had faded. Amidst this quiet scenery, an elderly mage observed silently.

This was Trace, the professor of Demonology for second-year students.

‘Come to think of it, that student should be arriving soon.’

A first-year he’d met this year—a peculiar girl with ties to his former mentor.

She had a knack for dragging trouble along with her. This time, too, she’d been “involved” in an incident that stirred up chatter among professors and staff. And this was during vacation, no less.

The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. His fingers itched, and he ended up sending her a letter.

Like an old man who enjoyed lecturing others, he’d felt the urge to tease her. Even as age wore away his emotions, that impulse remained.

“Haha…”

A laugh escaped him—weak, but a laugh nonetheless.

Suddenly, a distant memory surfaced. Gazing out the window, it came unbidden. After all, this place was his alma mater too.

‘…I’ve grown old.’

The thought settled heavily. The school’s scenery, its atmosphere, the curriculum—unchanged, yet changed. He was nearing a century in age. Compared to his graduation days, decades had flowed by.

Those who wielded magic lived long lives. By actively channeling mana, their bodies were tempered, slowing aging.

And for those who mastered their flesh to perfection? The decline could be delayed even further. Depending on skill and constitution, some remained active past a hundred without issue.

There were even rare cases where one maintained their youthful appearance.

But no one could escape time’s flow forever. Eventually, everything breaks.

Though Trace remained spry for his age, his soul had begun dying first.

His emotions withered. For now, he could still interact with others and feign normalcy—but the hollowness would only deepen.

Some souls outlast their bodies; others, their bodies outlast their souls. He was the former.

Humans were fragile, after all. No matter what, they broke so easily.

Yet even in that hollowed chest, embers of passion remained.

Something stubbornly clung and burned within the void.

When he first encountered that tangled, clinging thing, Trace named it “vengeance.”

Now, decades later, he still found the term fitting for such an unyielding obsession.

.

.

.

Their first meeting was either utterly ordinary—or utterly peculiar.

A chance encounter around a corner. One party had concealed their mana so perfectly that they collided.

Trace opened his mouth to reprimand them—only to freeze at the sight of a blind woman clutching a walking cane.

“My apologies. I’m still unaccustomed to control. Are you hurt?”

The woman in black robes offered a warm apology first. A cloak bearing the crest of Sky Island draped her shoulders.

It wasn’t her blindness that stole his words. No, it was curiosity.

Why master such thorough concealment if you can’t see? Wouldn’t it be dangerous if others failed to notice you?

Back then, the man had been brimming with scholarly fervor for magic. Surrounded by dispassionate students, this peculiar witch naturally caught his interest.

“How did you do it?”

“Pardon?”

“That level of flawless concealment. How?”

At the abrupt question, the woman tilted her head—then smiled.

“Fufu… You’re an amusing one.”

“What?”

This time, Trace was the one confused.

“Most people fluster over my condition and apologize first… Ah, not that I mind. I genuinely find this refreshing. It’s a first.”

“Ah… My apologies for bumping into you.”

“No, the fault was entirely mine. My control is still lacking.”

She laughed again. Her voice—resonant, deep—somehow pierced his chest.

“So… you want to know how I did this?”

“Yes. Could you teach me?”

“My, my… That’s also a first.”

“Did I offend you?”

“Not at all. I’m delighted. Hmm… Are you a student at Steele?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Ah, as I thought. That makes me even happier. The peers around me all called it ‘creepy’… I have some younger siblings I look after, and they said the same. Fufu. Quite cruel, no?”

They were hardly children by age, but he didn’t correct her.

He did think they’d been too harsh.

“Yes. To dismiss such a refined technique with those words…”

“Oh? Taking my side now? How kind…”

Just as she seemed about to offer something, she dipped her head and made to leave.

“Well… This was pleasant. Goodbye.”

“You’re just leaving?”

“Yes. Why not?”

“You made it sound like you’d share.”

“Tch. I can’t teach just anyone.”

Was it truly unteachable? Or was she refusing?

Or perhaps she was simply drawing a line.

A woman with a mysterious—yet somehow suspicious—aura.

A blind woman, clad head to toe in pitch-black attire.

Trace felt the urge to reach out after this peculiar encounter.

He didn’t know what he expected from such a brief meeting, but something compelled him. It was as if she carried a mesmerizing scent—one that promised to pull him from his boredom.

“A disciple…”

So he spoke the words with gravity.

Among the phrases mages never tossed lightly to one another, this was one.

“If I become your disciple, will you teach me?”

Slowly, her eyelids lifted.

Grey eyes, devoid of light.

Yet it felt like their gazes met—like a serpent coiling around its prey.

“…You don’t have to answer now. Just consider it.”

At the very least, this would ensure they’d meet again. Seeing his resolve, the corners of her lips curled up.

“How amusing you are.”

To want a disciple.

To want a master.

It wasn’t merely about teaching or learning. A mage was one who walked with mystery—with magic—until death.

In other words, it was akin to inheriting a way of life.

Trace had just proposed something profoundly weighty to a woman he’d only just met.

Yet she laughed.

“Is that a refusal?”

“No. This time, it’s an acceptance.”

“You’re agreeing just like that?”

“Yes. I’ve taken a liking to you.”

She said it so breezily, as if she truly meant it. In an instant, a master-disciple bond was formed—so abruptly it left him dazed.

“Though… I worry how much you’ll come to regret this.”

Her added words carried a cryptic weight. Was it concern? A joke? Her tone, neither heavy nor light, was impossible to decipher. Trace brushed it off, assuming she meant the lessons would be grueling.

Half a year later

When he learned she was an Apostle of Heresy, he finally understood her words.

But he never regretted it.

Not even half a year after that, when their bond as master and disciple shattered.

Not once.

***************

The day after receiving the attendance notice, Sugar and Riley boarded a carriage headed straight for Steele.

They left Ian and Leon behind. The latter was busy with medicine, and the former wanted to assist him.

Truthfully, Sugar could’ve gone alone—but Riley would never let her.

As a bonus, they handed off the food they’d bought two days prior to the pair remaining in the Holy City. The meals Riley had gotten for Sugar’s dinner, preserved perfectly with magic.

‘Wait, why didn’t you eat a single bite after buying all this?’

‘Ahaha… The timing just never worked out.’

(She’d never admit they’d been too busy fucking all night to eat.)

A gift

Remembering that night, Sugar’s cheeks tinted pink as she glanced at the man in the front seat. When their eyes met, she slid over and nestled beside him.

The carriage’s rhythmic jostling felt oddly indecent as she clung to Riley’s left arm.

She popped open his sleeve button and poked at his exposed forearm, tracing the veins with her fingers. Thick, firm—utterly unlike her own delicate limbs.

“Your hands are huge too…”

She pressed her palm against his, comparing sizes, then began stroking each finger. Her index curled around his, her thumb gliding over his skin. Heat built between them, damp with sweat.

When she reached his ring finger, her touch grew sticky.

“Riley’s hand… so warm…”

She rubbed obsessively, the wet sound of their sweat mingling in the air. Just as Riley opened his mouth to speak, she abruptly shifted back to his index finger.

Then—like magic—she slipped something onto it.

A ring.

“Hehe… a gift.”

“A gift?”

“Mhm. Look familiar?”

Embedded in the center was a smooth white stone. That stone—the one Sugar had once given him, then taken back.

“Remember? I said I wanted to make something… Well? I thought of you the whole time. I even melted in one of Harnielle’s tears for a mana boost…”

Riley examined the ring—a simple gold band with the white stone—while Sugar fidgeted beside him.

“You’re so good at making things, Riley. Your choker, your piercings… I wanted to give you something I made too. I couldn’t add fancy functions like yours, but…”

Back on the carriage to Zenrock, she’d teased him about this project, calling it a “secret.”

He’d worried it’d be something absurd.

Turns out, it was surprisingly normal.

“See? Told you it wasn’t anything weird. Right?”

Her eyes crinkled sweetly, affection overflowing past her lashes.

Riley’s response shattered the mood.

“This… the tear you added. It wasn’t just poured in. You used it as a medium to embed some kind of spell, didn’t you?”

Sugar flinched.

‘I hate—no, love—how sharp you are.’

“W-Well… I did add a tiny function…”

“What function?”

“It’s…”

“Say it.”

“N-Nothing major…”

“If it’s nothing major, then there’s no harm in telling me.”

“It’s really nothing! Just… a standard soul-binding curse and… a recording feature…”

“…”

“Ah… I’m hungry… Should we eat something…?”

Sugar immediately busied herself with rummaging through her bag—pulling out the Dream Lantern, a water bottle, a box of contraceptives—anything to avoid his gaze.

Meanwhile, Riley tried to remove the ring.

It wouldn’t budge.

‘I’ve been had.’

He couldn’t complain about the soul-binding curse; he’d done the same with her choker. And yes, he’d embedded extremely precise tracking magic too. But even he hadn’t gone as far as adding a recording function.

Recording was… wasn’t that a violation of privacy?

He’d debated it but ultimately decided it was too far.

And yet this woman had casually slipped it in without a second thought.

Unbelievable.

“What possessed you to add a recording feature?”

“I just… wondered. What do you do when I’m not around? Who do you talk to? What do you do alone at night…? That sort of thing…”

“Sugar, you’re creepy…”

“Y-You’re one to talk…!”

The two prideful souls locked eyes, each glaring as if to expose the other’s dark obsessions.

‘Riley’s gaze is so intense… I want to kiss him… A sloppy, wet kiss… Over and over…’

‘I should’ve added that feature to the choker too.’

Beneath their heated stares, their thoughts aligned perfectly. Truly, they were made for each other.

.

.

.

Being honest with their emotions was… liberating.

With nothing left to hide, the weight of secrecy lifted, leaving their bodies and minds lighter.

Of course, confronting their inner selves had spawned new worries—but as a woman in love, Sugar was willing to embrace them all.

A woman in love.

The thought still amazed her. She’d never imagined she would fall in love.

The kind of love sung about in ballads, written in novels—cliché, even. And yet, she’d ended up feeling it for her childhood friend.

It hadn’t felt real until she saw him and her heart threatened to burst, her mind melting into mush. It had been like that even before she admitted her feelings, but now it was worse. She barely recognized herself.

I should meet that woman again someday—the one who made me realize this.

The thought surfaced as she finally calmed down.

But anyway.

It was undeniable: Sugar was in love. She’d loved Riley all through Steele, loved him now, loved him with explosive intensity. She was obsessed, unhinged, utterly gone for him.

But even so.

She could swear she hadn’t crossed that line again since that day.

“Care to explain how this happened?”

The stern-faced dorm supervisor of the male dormitory slid a photograph across the table.

After days of travel by carriage, they’d been dragged to the administrative office the moment they arrived at Steele.

In the photo, a petite white-haired girl peeked out from the hallway of the male dorm.