Simon’s eyes widened. His grip slackened without him realizing it, and Serne, who was on his back, slid down to the ground. ‘Did she just offer me the Ivory Tower?’
He turned to her with a bewildered expression. She was smiling radiantly. "You heard me correctly."
Simon briefly wiped his face with his palm. Regardless of his interest in the Ivory Tower, the offer was staggering. He took a moment to regain his composure, methodically organizing his chaotic thoughts as if he were placing fallen books back onto a shelf. "That’s impossible," Simon concluded. "Even as the official successor, you don’t have the authority to hand over the leadership to a complete stranger."
"Then how about thinking of it this way?" She gracefully spread her long, white fingers. "Marriage to the successor of the Ivory Tower."
Simon looked at her, confused. "It’s a bit embarrassing, but the truth is, the Ivory Tower is a very rigid and patriarchal organization, as befits its long history. In all that time, there have only been two female heads. According to the Tower’s laws, the title ‘Tower Lord’ actually refers to the most outstanding male mage. So..." She cleared her throat with a small cough and spoke with an uncharacteristically flushed face. "After we are married, I will revise my position to that of ‘Tower Queen’ and take a step back. Then the one I serve, the Tower Lord, will naturally be you."
Simon let out a hollow laugh. "Be serious. If that happened, the Tower Lord would be a figurehead with no real power. Real authority would still belong to the Tower Queen, the one who followed the traditional line of succession."
"Wow," she said, her voice turning a shade colder. "That was supposed to be a romantic proposal, you know. And that’s how you respond?"
"Huh?"
"Hmph, never mind." She sniffed and turned her head away, pouting.
Simon was baffled. She had made a recruitment offer, and he had simply pointed out its flaws, yet she was the one who got upset. ‘Ugh, trying to do something I’m not used to is difficult.’
Serne, too, was seething internally. ‘Do I really have to stoop this low to win someone over?’ She could just stick a few feathers in anyone, and they would crawl like a dog and devotedly lick her boots. Besides, after all that, shouldn’t he realize the core of the offer isn’t the position, but her? So clueless, going on about figureheads and power. ‘What could possibly be a greater prize than me? Why do I have to put in so much effort for him? Ugh, the more I think about it, the more infuriating it is.’
As she stewed in her irritation, Simon strode over.
He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders. Still fuming, she glared at him.
"Stretching," he said flatly. "The TA over there is giving us the side-eye."
"Ah."
Serne glanced at the other students and placed her hands on Simon’s shoulders. They both shuffled back, hinged at the hips, and bent their waists at a ninety-degree angle.
"Inhale!"
At the command, they gently pressed on each other’s shoulders, holding the position. The stiffness in their backs and shoulders began to ease. They repeated the motion several times.
"Next position!"
This time, it was a seated stretch. They had to sit and spread their legs as wide as possible until the soles of their feet touched, then one person would hold the other’s hands and pull them forward.
’Ah, I’m screwed.’ Serne looked down at her uniform. She despised the physically demanding Combat Magic class and would often skip it, erase the TAs’ memories with her feathers, or just go through the motions. Out of habit, she had worn her uniform and was now in a predicament. "Wait a minute."
Simon took off the thin outer jacket he was wearing over his gym clothes. He came over and tied it around her waist himself. "This should be okay, right? If it’s still uncomfortable..."
"Thank you. Let’s try it."
They sat facing each other, spread their legs until their feet touched, and clasped hands. "I’ll pull first," Simon said. Her body was suddenly pulled sharply toward him. "Whoa! My back hurts!"
"That’s how you’re supposed to do this stretch."
"Ah, wait! Ugh!" She scowled and glared at him resentfully. Simon laughed out loud. Serne’s gaze shifted to the side. Meirin, stretching with another girl from Class C, was glaring daggers at them. The annoyance she had just felt seemed to melt away, replaced by a surge of satisfaction. She chatted animatedly with Simon as they stretched, as if to show off. Simon, too, seemed to have relaxed, expressing a richer range of emotions than she expected.
"Erzebet’s ability is useful. Have you ever done anything weird with it? Like making her transform into a classmate?"
A deep blush crept up Simon’s neck, and Serne burst into genuine, unrestrained laughter. "You have, haven’t you?"
"N-...! No! That was something Erzebet did on her own!"
Aside from enjoying Meirin’s glares, the moment itself wasn’t so bad. To her, humans were no different from dolls. They laughed when she wanted, cried when she wanted. The answer to her was always yes. The other person always had only the emotions she wanted, to the extent she wanted, and provided the reaction she wanted. It was comfortable that way. ‘But maybe it’s not so bad to have one toy that’s an exception?’
He was a new kind of toy to play with. When she posed a question, his reactions were varied and, above all, unpredictable—like his response about being a powerless figurehead when she brought up marriage. Simon sometimes hid his emotions, sometimes laughed, and sometimes even pushed back. "You said you were sincere with Meirin, too."
"Well, yes."
And that’s what made it fun. Novel. Not bad. It gave her a moment to reconsider something she was feeling for the first time: a relationship between equals. "That’z it for the warm-up. Everyone, ztop!" Hongfeng’s shout was heard. She belatedly snapped out of her rosy mood. ‘It really feels like I’m possessed.’
The two of them slowly got up. Meirin was still glaring as if shooting lasers from her eyes, but Serne simply ignored it and chuckled. "Now, the technique we will learn iz an advanzed application of Internal Jet-Black Zirculation."
Internal Jet-Black Circulation wasn’t anything particularly special. It was a technique to activate the core and evenly circulate Jet-Black throughout the body, raising overall physical functions by one level. Simply put, it was a technique to ‘core-ify’ the entire body. At first, one had to consciously guide the flow, but by using Jet-Black’s tendency to remember, one could eventually maintain the state just by activating the core.
The Combat Magic classes up until now had been designed to make this process second nature. The running had started slow, but the pace had recently increased to a point where one couldn’t keep up without circulation. Mastering it was also the key to maintaining balance on the hippo.
But this was the next level.
"Internal Jet-Black Eruption!"
Jet-Black began to flow from Hongfeng’s body like steam. The students gasped in admiration.
The students’ faces went blank. That sounded incredibly difficult. "Of courze, if you juzt increaze it by three timez, your organz will all explode and you’ll die, right?"
"Excuse me?" a student asked, horrified. "Zo you have to dizcharge the Jet-Black outzide your body! Like thiz." She looked at the Jet-Black flowing from her. This time, it wasn’t steam but dripped down like beads of sweat. For beginners, it was easier to discharge it as a liquid along with sweat. "While thiz technique iz maintained, you can defeat opponentz zeveral timez bigger and ztronger than yourzelf! Zinze you’re ztill beginnerz, let’z zet the limit at three minutez!"
Tripling the flow of Jet-Black naturally strained the body. By releasing it like sweat, the core could continue to pump out Jet-Black, maintaining a powerful state for three minutes. It was a special move used to turn the tide in a critical situation or to seal a victory. "Alright! Let’z try it right away!"
The TAs took control of the students. Now they understood the reason for the pairs. While one person turned their back to prepare for ‘Internal Jet-Black Eruption,’ their partner would activate a ‘discharge’ magic circle on their back. Eventually, they would have to perform the discharge themselves, but for now, they would start by just increasing their circulation. "Can I go first?" Simon asked. "Sure, as you wish," Serne replied. Simon turned around. He took a deep breath and activated his core. It was a familiar flow, one he had repeated hundreds of times while fighting various enemies. Jet-Black circulated through his body. This state felt perfect, perfectly balanced. He was even a little afraid that trying to triple it and failing might disrupt the stable circulation he already had. But. ‘I have no intention of getting complacent here.’
Simon mustered his courage. First, he tried doubling the output of Jet-Black from his core. "Ugh!"
A groan escaped his lips. He hadn’t even tripled the core’s output—only doubled it—yet every fiber of his being screamed in protest. "I’ll release it for you," Serne’s voice came from behind him. He felt her palm touch his back. A moment later, the Jet-Black drained out through the release point. Gasping for breath, Simon composed himself, and this time, immediately pushed the core’s output to three times its normal rate. "Gaaah!"
He couldn’t even last five seconds before collapsing to the floor. It seemed the other students were in the same boat; most were either collapsed or slumped on the ground. "Hmm."
Serne crossed her arms. "I suppose it’ll be difficult until you can tame your Jet-Black. It seems brute-force repetition is your only path forward."
Simon nodded and pushed himself up. "Want to try?"
"No, thanks. It’s not a skill I’d ever use, even if I learned it. More importantly..." After glancing over at Meirin, she turned her head back and spoke.
"Want to try again? This time, we do it my way."
"Your way?"
"That’s right!" she chirped. She took a step back, her hands dropping to clutch the hem of her skirt. Then, she began to hop lightly in place. Simon’s eyes widened in disbelief. Feathers materialized around her, cascading like snow to form a soft, white pile at her feet. "You’re not planning on using your ability on me, are you?" Simon asked, his voice laced with suspicion. A light laugh escaped her. She brushed off his concern and plucked a single feather from the floor, touching it to her own skin, then pulling it away in a series of quick motions. "This one? Or maybe this one?" she murmured, and with each word, the Jet-Black hue of the feather shifted subtly. "Ah, there it is."
With a flick of her wrist, the feathers on the ground instantly matched the color of the one in her hand before swarming to her body and clinging to her skin. After about twenty had attached themselves, she snapped her fingers. The remaining feathers on the floor rearranged themselves into a magic circle. "Hold on, what are you—"
"Quiet," she cut in, pressing a single feather to Simon’s chest. He flinched, his body tensing to react, but then...
’Huh?’
A profound calm washed over him. The tension bled from his muscles, leaving them loose and relaxed. He could suddenly hear the crisp whisper of the wind as it rustled through the trees and grass. "It’s a sedative," Serne explained. "A Kizen professor is watching our every move. Do I really seem foolish enough to try anything funny?"
Simon remained silent. She had a point. As Simon considered this, she placed her hands on her hips. "I’m not going to do anything to hurt you, so turn around like before."
After a moment’s hesitation, Simon turned, his expression hardening with resolve. With a soft grunt, she pressed herself against his back in a sudden hug. The sedative’s calming effect vanished in an instant as Simon went rigid, his face flushing crimson. "Serne!"
"Look forward," she commanded. At her words, Simon scanned his surroundings. ‘Wait a second.’
Time seemed to crawl to a halt, and the world around him faded away. It was eerily similar to the mental state Bahil had induced with his curse. "You can do it in this state, can’t you?" Her voice was like a melody in his ear. "Go on. I’ll help you."

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