“What’s your opinion, Professor?”

“There’s nothing to think about this. This book has to be wrong after all. If you do know how to cherish your life, it’ll be good if you burn this book.”

“This has to be wrong, yet you don’t think this book is wrong?”

“. . .”

He glared at me.

His face was saying, ‘Why did you provoke me and make me say something useless’.

“The stories he mentioned here, like the Saintess, and God’s historic site; how did he find such material?”

“If I tell you everything I know, will you leave me alone?”

As I nodded while smiling widely, he strained his eyes as if he had seen something horrible.

It was an expression of goodwill in my own way, but he seemed to hate me very much.

But I don’t think I did anything wrong to this person in particular?

Although he looked angry, he told me about what he knew.

“This book is a story told by someone my teacher met. He called the figure who told him about this fact as ‘the surviving witness.’”

“The surviving witness . . .”

“This is only a myth written based on that person’s story.”

“Wasn’t there a reason for Mr. Mikel to believe in that person’s story?”

He opened the book and pointed to one page.

[God, who was locked under the ‘ruin’ in the hands of humans he cherished, was angry at them, and that anger caused polumination.

The land of death is the place where God’s anger is manifested.

Those who stayed there were deprived of their lives, stained with bizarre emotions, and possessed by ghosts.

The heads of the three families were wary of the locked God, and decided to grant a portion of the power they got to their descendants.

They put the power they had in their families’ treasure.]

I already knew about each families’ treasure.

Since it was a famous story.

On the Empire’s birthday, on the last day of the festival, each head of the family brought their family treasure and showed the greatness of the Empire’s ‘power’ before the people.

Professor Grein then tapped his finger on the word ‘treasure’.

“A portion of God’s power is granted to their descendants. About the statement that it was put in the family treasure.”

“Yes.”

“In fact, it is said that only the family’s successor—in other words, those who have the family’s blood—can touch the family treasure. Teacher said that is the ‘proof’ that this myth is true. I don’t know about the details, but he said through a certain confirmation, he witnessed someone, who touched the item, turn crazy.”

In the end, didn’t it mean that the truth was only about the witness’s story and his eyewitness?

Besides, that proof looked hard to prove the validity of the whole myth.

It’d be good if at least that witness is alive.

He returned the book to me, who regretted this, and irritatedly sent me out.

“Now I have told you all the facts I know, so please get out.”

“I have no plans to stay longer, sir.”

Then, he suddenly spoke to me, who was heading out, as if he remembered something.

“There is something that’s already announced to other students on the day you didn’t come to the academy.”

“Pardon?”

“There will be career counseling, so please bring your guardian.”

“. . .”

“Whoever it is, the guardian should be a person in the family who can support your career path, or help your career path.”

My head, where the line between dream and reality was blurring, returned to reality with a few words from him.

Career counseling?

Recently Lord Duke was subtly avoiding me because of the mental shock from the love creating project, Mom was busy, and Orion . . . was Orion.

In addition, based on Professor Grein’s attitude, I think he would likely be relentless in front of the students’ guardians.

“I’m worried about him.”

It looked like that person would surely need someone to protect his safety.

Since not only Orion, but my mom too had a temperament that was second to none.

* * *

That night, I, who slept in relative comfort, was flustered at the familiar sensation.

My body once again was entering ‘the dream’.

Inside the dark room, I saw the small creature, who was crouching.

My heart dropped at the familiar figure.

The moment I didn’t want to see the most was replayed before my eyes.

Late at night when everyone had slept, the weeping boy looked up.

The empty eyes entered my view.

He opened the door with his skinny wrists that he couldn’t even control himself properly.

It was me who chased after his figure crossing the garden at night and stopped him.

“Don’t go, Zen!”

Zen twisted his body to shake away me, who was crying and clinging into him.

Even though his feet were bleeding, he acted like a numb person.

Like a person who would soon die, say nothing and not cry.

I desperately held onto Zen, who didn’t even look at me.

“I was wrong! I should have asked Mom to help you. I’m sorry . . .”

I felt goosebumps all over my whole body.

My breath became heavy because I clearly remembered the feelings of that day.

I didn’t want to see this.

I hate this.

Even though I wanted to look away, my stunned body didn’t move.

At that moment, someone grabbed me.

“Marianne!”

I opened my eyes as I was pulled out of the dream.

It was hazy.

I then realized that it wasn’t sweat but tears that covered my face.

Emotions that I couldn’t let out came out of my throat with a strange sound.

A suffocating breath was added to the dripping tears.

Someone then touched my cheeks.

“This isn’t, because of Adel . . .”

“Yeah.”

I powerlessly leaned to Zen, who answered faintly.

My tears didn’t stop.

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