Chapter 51: Sometimes, reality feels more like a novel than a novel itself Part 2

The press conference, which should have ended on a warm note, was abruptly disrupted.

Without any warning, the sound of gunfire echoed through the air, and the Supreme Court building exploded from a bullet impact.

Panic broke out among the people.

Screams filled the air as they cowered in fear of additional gunshots or fled in chaos, losing their composure entirely.

It was a complete uproar.

Yet, among the chaos, one group clearly stood out as peculiar.

Their reaction was different.

Instead of fearing for their lives, they were furious that someone dared to attack me.

The group of students quickly divided tasks among themselves.

Though they were all magic majors who had taken my mountain-climbing class, some had a decent grasp of physical combat and immediately moved to protect me.

The rest began a rapid search to identify and subdue the perpetrator.

Those who had charged toward me moments ago regained their composure and exchanged instructions with one another.

They nodded in agreement and split into two groups.

‘I don’t remember ever training personal bodyguards, yet they’re all acting like professionals, to the point it’s unsettling.’

Their performance was not only highly efficient but also astonishing.

Even compared to the Imperial Princess Lucie’s elite guards, trained knights couldn’t have responded with this level of speed.

‘For now, I can relax a little.’

At last, I regained some of my composure.

It’s inconvenient when they scramble for reasons to fire me, but in situations like this, having such capable subordinates was reassuring.

At the very least, I wouldn’t meet my end at the hands of some unknown assassin.

I racked my brain as fast as I could.

Who could be behind this attack? Could this be connected to the original storyline?

I concentrated fully, trying to devise a plan to navigate this crisis.

However, as it turned out, my efforts were unnecessary.

***

“We’ve confirmed the assassin’s death.”

Barely thirty seconds had passed.

One of the guards who had used detection magic reported the intruder’s demise.

It was beyond fast—unbelievably so.

For a moment, I doubted their claim.

‘Could this be some kind of elaborate ruse?’

Maybe they were trying to lull us into a false sense of security before launching another assassination attempt.

But that wasn’t the case at all.

The student pointed toward a scarred middle-aged man lying on the ground.

His menacing demeanor and the sniper rifle in his hands, which looked like it had just been fired, left little room for doubt.

‘Why is that guy already dead?’

He lay there as if asleep, but the gaping, donut-sized hole in his chest spoke otherwise.

If one of my mountain-climbing students had taken him down, they would have used magic, and there’s no way I would’ve missed that.

And the wound didn’t match a strike from the sword of a trained knight.

‘Could he have sacrificed his life as part of some dark magic ritual?’

But even as I considered the possibility, I dismissed it.

The idea of sacrificing one’s life for a final attack might sound dramatic, but it’s the pinnacle of inefficiency.

Whether using someone else’s soul or their own as fuel, the energy output would be the same.

‘What kind of fool would burn their own life for such a purpose?’

If they lacked power, they could’ve spent more time preparing, hunting humans to replenish their energy, and then attacking.

There’s no way the assassin wouldn’t have thought of such an obvious choice.

And considering he managed to infiltrate with such a massive gun, likely aided by some stealth abilities, fleeing and regrouping for another attempt would’ve been a much smarter move.

This wasn’t suicide—it was murder.

It seemed everyone else had reached the same conclusion.

The expressions around me were ones of confusion and disbelief.

‘Who could have dealt with the assassin so quickly?’

People pondered for a moment before…

***

“…Ah.”

As if on cue, they turned to look at me.

Their gazes were filled with realization, as if they’d uncovered the answer.

Expressions of understanding and awe spread across their faces.

My mind raced.

‘The professor rumored to casually cast Meteor-class spells, interpret runes, and master swordsmanship to its pinnacle…’

‘Is there anyone more suspicious than me right now?’

‘Even I would suspect myself at this point.’

***

“I am in awe. It seems we didn’t even need to step in.”

Karen, her eyes brimming with respect, spoke.

The guards kneeled before me in unison.

Seeing this, everyone’s thoughts were predictable.

With the crime practically attributed to me by default, even the skeptical bystanders began to murmur.

“I—I know who that is! That’s Buffalo Bill!”

“The mad black mage who makes clothes out of human skin? He killed that guy so quickly?”

Those unfamiliar with me stared in shock.

Though they’d heard my name a few times, it was clear they’d never imagined I’d be this formidable.

This was already overwhelming enough…

But it was nothing compared to what came next.

Those who followed the news and had read all the absurd rumors about me wore expressions of sheer astonishment as they exclaimed:

***

“P-Psyche Blade! It’s real?!”

“I never thought I’d live to see it in person.”

An elderly swordsman wiped tears from his eyes and declared, “I can die without regrets now.”

Cheers erupted from all directions.

I watched the scene with half-dead eyes, wiping away a single tear alongside the old swordsman.

Admiration is the emotion farthest from understanding.

A quote left by a famous manga artist and poet.

I thought I might finally grasp its meaning now.

Humans inherently see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear.

Once someone projects an illusion onto another and believes it, no matter what is said, meaningful conversation becomes impossible.

Thus, my desperate shouts toward the reporters vanished pitifully, unheard.

***

“I’ll confess the truth. I have been colluding with black mages all along. I’m merely a hypocrite who betrayed them out of guilt. I’m a sinner guilty of the same crimes.”

An excuse I came up with after wringing my brain dry.

The claim that I was once part of the organization but had defected.

It was risky, treading a fine line.

But if I combined the discovery of the primeval dragon’s power with my eventual repentance and contribution to capturing two criminals, it might end with just a few months in prison.

This explanation would justify how I discovered Hannibal and serve as an appropriate prelude to resigning as a professor in penance.

***

[New Professor Revealed to Have Conducted Years-Long Undercover Investigation.]

[Unveiling the Dangerous Infiltration of a Criminal Organization by a Professor Determined to Capture a Murderer. Despite Countless Threats, They Stood Unwavering for Justice!]

[Declared Guilt Over Not Catching the Killer Sooner, Even After Risking Their Life. Masses Shout in Unison: ‘It’s Not Your Fault!’]

The results returned as nothing but horrendous headlines like these.

“Don’t be hurt! We know how much you’ve done for us! Now it’s our turn to stand by you!”

The crowd shouted these words, wailing as tears streamed down their faces.

Even amidst this ocean of madness and tears, I managed to cling to sanity, barely keeping myself from losing it entirely.

With eyes lifeless like a dead fish, I still resisted.

“I never used Psyche Blade! Look at those wounds. They’re not marks from an ethereal sword. I am not a martial artist who’s reached such heights!”

But that was my mistake.

I should have realized it by then.

The people gathered here—the numerous reporters and stakeholders—were already beyond reason.

They were no different from those lunatics at the Imperial Academy.

***

[Riyan Declares: ‘I Have Surpassed the Realm of Psyche Blade.’]

[From Psyche Blade to Psyche Kill. Determining Life and Death with Pure Willpower. Has He Finally Transcended Humanity and Stepped Into the Realm of Gods?]

Failing to recognize this reality, I was punished.

A punishment so terrifying I felt I might pass out.

I unfolded the last newspaper to look at it.

***

Cromwell Edelphilt.

A person with whom I could not share the same sky.

My nemesis, who had relentlessly tormented me.

Despair struck me as I gazed at the photo accompanying the article.

White hair fluttering in the wind.

Eyes brimming with an unyielding determination toward justice.

A raised fist directed at the heavens and the imperial flag waving boldly behind him.

An image worthy of slapping the President of the United States three times in envy.

Beneath it, a single caption was inscribed.

***

[Riyan Becomes the Symbol of Peace. Crime Rates Plummet Just by His Presence!]

His commanding figure seemed to declare, “Now that I’m here, you can all rest easy.”

It crushed every ounce of resolve I had left.

A world where no one would be hurt—except for me.