Simon swallowed hard. After examining Kamibarez’s wounds again, Lena spoke in a calm, measured tone.
"You got into a fight with other students, didn’t you? If there’s a problem, you should deal with it now, during the student protection period. Suffering in silence won’t fix anything."
"It wasn’t a fight with students," Simon insisted. He couldn’t tell her they were attacked by a Priest who had betrayed Kizen. That was a secret that could shake the entire institution to its core and put Lena herself in grave danger. "Then what was it?"
"The situation is... complicated. I can’t tell you everything. I’m sorry."
Lena fell silent, pressing her fingers to her forehead with a stern expression. Through the curtain, she could see Simon’s silhouette bowing his head. Her years of experience had taught her a hard lesson: an attendant getting involved in student affairs changed nothing. ‘First, treatment,’ she decided. She pulled a first-aid kit and various salves from a drawer. After wiping away the blood with gauze, she skillfully disinfected the wounds. The sleeping Kamibarez whimpered and furrowed her brow. Lena then gently applied a regenerative, slime-based ointment to prevent scarring before covering the cuts with bandages. Fortunately, none of the injuries were severe. Once she had carefully wrapped the gash on Kamibarez’s thigh, the girl’s sleeping expression finally eased into one of peace. "Simon."
Lena stepped out from behind the curtain. "Take off your clothes."
"...Wh-What?"
Simon’s eyes widened. She crossed her arms, her face a blank mask. "I need to see to your wounds, too. Shirt off."
"Oh. Right!"
’I’ve been taken aback a lot today,’ Simon thought as he stripped off his jacket and shirt, then rolled his trousers up past his knees. "I’ll disinfect them first," Lena announced, crouching in front of him with a disinfectant-soaked cotton ball. ‘Ahem.’
Seeing Simon’s bare torso up close, she felt an unwelcome blush creep up her neck. ‘Seriously, why is a student in such good shape? What’s with those abs at his age? Ugh, how embarrassing. Calm down, heart,’ she chided herself. She had her pride as an adult; she couldn’t be flustered by a brat who was still wet behind the ears. Composing herself, she tended to his wounds with a professional air. Simon occasionally yelped and flinched. "Ow, that really stings!"
"Just hold still," Lena said, giving his leg a light smack. His dramatic flair proved he was still just a kid. She finished applying the ointment and wrapping his injuries in clean bandages. "The wounds might get infected, so try not to overdo it for a while."
"Thank you!" Simon exclaimed, bowing deeply. A student bowing to an attendant... Lena was so flustered she took a step back before clearing her throat. "I don’t know what happened tonight... but your health is the most important thing. You have to be in one piece if you want to survive Kizen. Understand?"
"Yes!"
"The girl is fine, too. I’ll call some trustworthy colleagues from the girls’ dormitory to escort her back quietly."
"Thank you so much! I won’t forget your kindness," Simon said, bowing respectfully one last time. After he left, Lena sank into her chair with a sigh. ‘I wonder if I’ll be seeing him around for long.’
He possessed a rare, human charm almost unheard of in Kizen. A strange, lingering warmth tickled at her.
"S-Simon! You’re safe!"
The moment Simon entered their dorm room, a frantic Dick rushed over. "What happened? Where’s Kami?"
Simon calmly explained that they had been chased by guards, gotten lost deep in the forest, and had just made it back. He omitted any mention of the Priest, deciding he needed to discuss it with Kamibarez first. Dick explained that he’d also been delayed while evading the guards. Meirin, left alone in the practice room, had apparently been trembling with a mixture of anger and sorrow, though she seemed to understand once he explained the situation. Ultimately, Dick had successfully acquired the ingredients from Rochest, so they would be able to brew the potion tomorrow. The door slammed open with a thud. "Gah, you scared me!" Dick yelped. Kajan Edvalt strode in, a towel draped over his wet hair, suggesting he’d just come from the bathhouse. "You’re back, Kajan," Simon greeted him with a smile. Kajan didn’t reply. He simply threw off his uniform, climbed into the top bunk, and pulled the covers completely over his head. Less than a minute later, the sound of deep snoring filled the room. "...I really have no idea what his deal is," Dick muttered, shrugging as he headed to his own bed. Simon watched Kajan’s sleeping form for a moment before grabbing his own blanket and turning in. It had been an exhausting day.
The next morning, Simon told Dick to go on ahead and waited by the entrance of the building, leaning against a wall. He watched familiar Class A students pass, including Hector and his clique, who shot Simon surprised looks and whispered amongst themselves. ‘She’s late.’
Impatience crept onto Simon’s face as he glanced at the wall clock. Class was about to begin, but there was still no sign of Kamibarez. ‘What’s wrong? Is she in too much pain? Or was she so traumatized that she’s skipping class?’
Even Simon felt a prickle of fear when he recalled the image of the Priest praying in the Forbidden Forest. He’d had nightmares about it. He was at least somewhat accustomed to prayer, thanks to his mother, but the psychological shock for Kamibarez must have been immense. ‘I should check the girls’ dorm after class... Huh?’
Just then, a girl carrying a school bag walked past him. Her face was achingly familiar, and when their eyes met, she broke into a bright smile. "Hey, Simon! Good morning!" Kamibarez chirped, trotting over to him. She seemed far more energetic than he had feared. "...Can I talk to you for a second, Kami?"
They moved to a quiet, empty lot behind the building. "You must have been terrified yesterday. Are you really okay?"
She gave a small nod. "Yes, I’m fine. It just... it feels like it was all a dream."
"A dream?"
A pleasant night walk. Picking mushrooms with him. Fleeing from the guards. Him holding her as he leaped from a cliff. And finally, the horrifying moment they came face-to-face with the Priest. "It was like the dream turned into a nightmare, my memory cut off, and then I woke up," she explained, rubbing a scraped elbow. "It doesn’t feel entirely real."
’Maybe perceiving it as a dream lessened the shock,’ Simon mused. Whatever the reason, he was relieved she seemed alright. He got straight to the point. "The Priest ran when he saw the guards. There’s a good chance he didn’t see your face."
"Oh..."
"Don’t tell anyone about this. Just act normal. I’ll find out who he is."
"I want to...!"
She suddenly stepped closer, rising onto her tiptoes. "I want to help you, Simon!"
"Uh, huh?"
"It’s not fair for me to stay out of this just because he didn’t see my face! This happened to both of us!"
Taken aback by her sudden intensity, Simon leaned back slightly. "O-Okay. I get it. I’ll ask for your help when the time comes."
"Okay!" she beamed. Just then, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. They took off in a panicked sprint toward the classroom.
First period was Professor Bahil’s Cursology. The moment class began, Simon was so engrossed that he completely forgot about the previous night’s events. After a brief lecture, Bahil moved directly into the practical exercise. "In the last Exhaust class, I noticed many of you were overly reliant on the correction device," Bahil announced. "Therefore, today we will practice with a simpler curse."
The ‘Curse of Transference’ was a foundational spell that involved imbuing a target with Jet-Black. Their objective was to cast its magic circle in mid-air without the aid of a device. Simon took a slow breath, centering his focus. He held his palms facing each other as if cradling a large piece of fruit, channeling Jet-Black from both hands to draw the circle in the empty space between them. His dark blue Jet-Black flowed out, forming the basic circular frame.
’This is tough right from the start,’ he thought. After painstakingly creating the base, he began inscribing runes in its center. It didn’t go well. As he tried to add the runes, the base circle wavered in protest, and his hands began to tremble uncontrollably. Still, he managed to sketch out the runes and formulas, however clumsily. The final product was supposed to be as clean as a printed diagram, but Simon’s magic circle was a writhing mess of unstable energy. ‘Ugh.’
He decided to try casting it anyway. On his desk sat a plant that resembled a tall, straight stalk. It fed on Jet-Black, and a successful Curse of Transference would cause it to bloom. With a silent prayer, Simon activated the magic circle. It imploded with a faint ‘pop’, dissipating into nothing. Simon sighed in frustration. ‘This is harder than I thought.’
He had to face a cyclops next week; he couldn’t afford to be stuck on the basics. Gritting his teeth, he spread his palms to try again. "How are we finding it? Manageable?"
A warm hand rested on his shoulder. He turned to see Professor Bahil standing beside him, a gentle smile on his face. Simon tensed. "Uh, yes! I’m working hard..."
"It’s your Core operation."
Simon froze. "Your control over your Core is underdeveloped, which reduces the consistency of your Jet-Black. As a result, you cannot properly construct the magic circle."
"Ah..."
His heart hammered in his chest. It was a weakness he was keenly aware of, but hearing it diagnosed so bluntly by a Kizen professor was entirely different from knowing it himself. "There are few places to properly learn Core operation," Bahil continued. "It’s too fundamental for the Kizen curriculum, and the method varies for each individual."
Bahil raised the index finger of the hand on Simon’s shoulder. "Pardon me."
He pressed his finger firmly into Simon’s shoulder. In that instant, Simon’s mind went blank. He heard the distinct sound of a single drop of water falling. The classroom noise vanished, and his body felt as if it were adrift in a silent void. "There is a common prejudice that curses are only harmful," Bahil said, his voice echoing in the silence with a bitter smile. "As a practitioner, I find it most regrettable."
"Professor, this is..."
"Do not be alarmed. I have merely used a variation of a sensory curse to maximize your focus. Now, concentrate."
Bahil’s voice was a soft, soothing resonance that put Simon strangely at ease. He didn’t feel threatened. "Take a deep breath. Draw the mana from the atmosphere into your body."
Simon obeyed. Bahil then placed his other hand on Simon’s opposite shoulder. "Now, we will pass the mana through your Core. First, observe me carefully."
Simon felt a stream of mana within him move, guided by a will that was not his own. It flowed into the Core beneath his heart, but it didn’t simply pass through. Instead, it began to rotate, swirling within the Core in a viscous process of transformation. "Your Jet-Black is different from others," Bahil explained. "The simple image of ‘extracting’ it is inefficient for you."
"Then..."
"Circulation."
The mana rotating in the Core seamlessly transformed into Jet-Black and radiated outward, an image reminiscent of the corona of a black sun. "Discard the concepts of conversion and transformation. Think of your Core as a living thing. Soothe it, guide it, and wait for the Jet-Black to flow from it naturally."
"I see...!"
"Now, it is your turn."
Simon nodded and focused on the mana inside him. ‘Not conversion. Circulation.’ He repeated the word in his mind, visualizing the process. As if responding to his will, the mana flowed into his Core and began to swirl. "There is no need to force control," Bahil’s voice guided him. "Relax your mind and simply observe. Let the child do as it pleases."
Just as he said, the Core began to move on its own. As it spun, it drew in ambient mana, feeding the Jet-Black and making it grow. Soon, the Core was full, and it released the energy outward. ‘Oh...!’
Finally. A black sun ignited within Simon’s body. "Well done. Now, shall we lower your senses to fifty percent?"
His vision cleared. The feeling of total isolation faded, replaced by the faint, boisterous chatter of his classmates. "Now, try again."
"Okay!"
Simon repeated the process. His first attempt failed—the Jet-Black was not as pliant as it had been under the curse’s full effect—but he found his rhythm on the second try and succeeded on the third. "Jet-Black has a tendency to remember," Bahil said, tapping his own temple. "It is like your hands and feet. Repeat a motion hundreds, thousands of times, and eventually, it will reproduce the learned flow without conscious thought. Fascinating, is it not? That is why repetition and proper habits are paramount."
A thrill ran through Simon. It felt like true enlightenment, each concept clicking perfectly into place. He had thought Bahil was merely a cold, calculating man, but now he was seeing an entirely new side to his professor. "Excellent. While we’re at it, shall we attempt the curse itself?"
At Bahil’s words, Simon’s senses were once again plunged into that heightened state. All distractions vanished, leaving only his body, his Jet-Black, and the plant on his desk. "Raise your Jet-Black."
Simon held his hands apart, and the dark energy flowed from his fingertips like ink in water. "I am assisting you, so feel at ease. Complete the magic circle to your heart’s content."
"Got it!"
The sensation was completely different from when he’d tried it alone. The magic circle floated in the air, perfectly stable and centered, allowing him to pour his energy into it without fear of it collapsing. It was a marvelous feeling. The circle formed in an instant, making his struggles from moments before seem laughable. "Now, activate it!"
As his senses returned to normal, Simon’s eyes snapped open, and he unleashed the spell. A crackling bolt of Jet-Black shot out and struck the plant. A breathtaking spectacle unfolded with a soft ‘whoosh’. Countless flower buds exploded from the stalk, blooming in a riot of color. They spilled across his desk and onto the floor, engulfing him in a sudden, vibrant field of flowers. "Woooow!"
"What in the world?"
Gasps of awe echoed through the classroom. "P-Professor, this...!"
"This is the potential you possess," Bahil murmured, his voice low enough for only Simon to hear. "Do not misunderstand. I merely provided a stable output. This is a feat you will be able to achieve on your own in the near future."
He was right. The power that had made the flowers bloom was undeniably Simon’s.
"Your Jet-Black is special, Simon Polentia." Bahil’s fingers twitched on Simon’s shoulder. The flowers continued to multiply, now reaching his chest. "Please, think on it carefully," Bahil said, his expression turning deadly serious. "Consider the best path to make your talent blossom. And consider which direction you must take to utilize this special Jet-Black to its absolute, fullest potential."

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