Even Clump couldn't stop it. Although he had married Erina a year ago, they received no support from either of their families. Without their approval, the couple ended up living in a small newlywed home in a modest district.
It all started with the Mirhi family. When their son announced from abroad that he planned to marry a foolish woman, they flatly refused to accept it.
Then came the response from the Bastard family. Despite both families being first-class aristocrats, the Bastards—based in the capital—looked down on the provincial Mirhis. From their perspective, even if their daughter was lacking, she was still marrying into a lesser family.
In the end, Alpheas and Erina had no choice but to hold a quiet, unofficial wedding with only close friends present.
"Right. There was Mr. Jesu. Why don't you bring him along?"
"It's fine. What wife would enjoy seeing her husband hanging around with a drunkard? I'll just drop by for a bit."
"Damn, you're being careful. Alright, then get going."
"I won't be long. Head to the bar first!"
Alpheas left the castle almost as if he were fleeing. He had poured himself into his studies day and night, leaving him physically drained—but today, he didn't feel tired at all.
'I did it! Finally!'
He had won the most prestigious award in the kingdom. With this achievement, even the Mirhi family would be forced to acknowledge him. A proper, formal wedding with Erina no longer seemed like a far-off dream.
"Honey, I'm home."
Erina knew today was the day the winners were to be announced. She stepped out from the kitchen just like she had yesterday—though if they lived in a better home, she might have prepared a surprise celebration.
"You're back? Have you eaten?"
Alpheas loved her just the way she was. A ten-year-old's intelligence didn't necessarily mean she had the emotional maturity of a child. Erina's eyes filled with tears as she thought about how much her husband had suffered from not winning the award before.
"Honey, I…"
Alpheas, hands trembling, pulled out a golden medallion.
"I did it! I won! It's the Gold Circle Award!"
Erina, usually calm and composed, couldn't hide the emotion in her eyes. They sparkled, as if the entire world was reflected in them. The day Alpheas had spoken of so many times had finally come.
"Congratulations. I knew you would win it."
"It's all thanks to you, Erina. You made this possible. Come here—I want you to see it. Let me put it on you."
To Alpheas, the true owner of the Gold Circle was Erina. Clump, ever the honest man, didn't quite understand. He believed Alpheas deserved the award more than anyone, for seeing through to the brilliance behind Erina's ideas. But Alpheas knew the truth: the little spark of inspiration from Erina had become the core algorithm that would shape the future of humanity.
"This is your award," Alpheas said. "Your idea shook the world."
As he leaned in, lips puckered for a kiss, Erina slipped away playfully, like a teasing bride.
"I need to make dinner. Come help."
"Oh, right. Clump is throwing a party, so I need to head out. I'll eat later."
"I see…"
Erina couldn't quite hide her disappointment this time. Alpheas chuckled, then scooped her up in his arms with a mischievous grin.
"That's why I keep telling you—make time to eat!"
"Kyaaah!"
He carried her up the stairs to the second floor.
"Wait! The bread's going to burn!"
"Then let it burn! Unless you tell it not to!"
After Alpheas won the award, invitations flooded in daily—each from nobles or top-tier organizations. But he knew that trying to please everyone meant pleasing no one. His reputation only grew as he carefully declined all but the most essential engagements. One of those was a dinner with the Alchemy Foundation—an institution that handled 40 percent of all magical material distribution. Missing it simply wasn't an option, so Alpheas left home to attend.
Meanwhile, Sarov and his friends, unaware of Alpheas' plans, waited in front of his house as the sun began to set. Their impatience grew as the sky darkened.
Sarov sighed heavily.
"Ugh, this is bruising my pride."
"Still bothered by your ego? Sure, his reputation shot up, but it was bound to happen. This is Alpheas we're talking about—he wasn't just some talented wizard. We should've seen this coming."
Sarov was also filled with regret. When Alpheas won the Gold Circle, Sarov should've seized the opportunity to patch things up. It had only been a month, but Alpheas' status had skyrocketed to an intimidating level, all thanks to his incredible political acumen. Now that Alpheas was being more selective about the people around him, Sarov's chances of slipping into that inner circle had become even slimmer.
Damn it. I didn't want to bow my head, but now I'm practically forced to kneel. Why is this happening?
There was no answer, no matter how many times he turned it over in his head. The only small comfort was having his friends beside him, making the humiliation slightly more bearable.
"Let's just go in slowly. I'll do the talking."
Sarov took the lead and knocked on the door.
"Is Alpheas home? It's me, Sarov."
To his surprise, Erina opened the door.
"And you are?"
"Oh, hi. You must be his wife. I'm Sarov, one of Alpheas' classmates. Is he in?"
"No, he stepped out. He's attending a dinner with the Alchemy Foundation."
Sarov had heard about the event, and since it wasn't a full banquet, he figured Alpheas wouldn't be gone too long.
"I see. If it's alright with you, may we wait inside? We've come a long way, and people are already starting to take notice…"
It felt awkward standing around outside. They were already attracting curious glances from passersby.
"Sure, come in."
Sarov and his friends sat in the living room, fidgeting nervously as they waited. Though it was a bit pitiful to see, Erina welcomed them kindly. She brought out some snacks and drinks for them.
"Have something to eat. My husband will probably eat at the dinner."
"Thank you so much. You're very kind."
Sarov felt embarrassed and regretted not bringing a gift. He had actually bought one, but when it came time to deliver it, his pride stopped him. He was still upset.
It wasn't about magical skill. Even if he had severed ties with both Alpheas' and Erina's families, his name still carried prestige. That had to count for something in people's eyes—or so he thought.
As he sipped his drink, those bitter thoughts made the alcohol hit him faster. At first, he tried to stay composed, but when he realized just how sharp Erina was, his guard dropped without him noticing.
"I mean, come on! I was once called a genius, remember? Me! That was me!"
"And who wasn't?" his friend chimed in. "The world's unfair! People who work hard get nothing, while those with connections rise to the top. Magic's already dead!"
One of Sarov's eyebrows twitched. He knew exactly who his friend was targeting—Alpheas. Still, he let it slide. Erina probably didn't even realize what was being said. She seemed out of it, maybe even drunk. Had she finally beaten Alpheas in something? How could she mock him like that in front of his wife?
'Tch. The nerve of that bastard. This is all about medicine. Always medicine.'
Sarov leaned in toward Erina.
"Don't you think so, Jesu? Magic isn't just about skill, right? You agree with me, don't you?"
Erina hesitated. "I… I don't know."
"Haha! Of course you don't. But I'm telling you, it's true. Everything I've said."
Sarov felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. Not only had he criticized Alpheas, he'd done it right in front of his wife, with sarcasm layered in. His friends, catching on, began tapping the table with encouragement.
"Jesu-ssi, the vibe's great! How about singing us a song?"
"Yeah, yeah! Pick one to celebrate Alpheas' amazing success!"
Erina's smile froze. People often assumed that those less educated couldn't pick up on social cues. But Erina had always been sensitive to others' emotions—that was often the burden of the weak. She knew this group didn't see her as a friend. Still, she'd tried to be gracious, for her husband's sake.
She started singing, her voice trembling.
"When the wheat in my hometown ripens…"
Sarov and his group clapped and whistled mockingly. Despite it, she kept singing. But before she could finish the third line, a sharp, cold voice rang out from the living room.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Everyone turned. Alpheas stood there, fists clenched, face red with fury. Sarov immediately sobered up. Reality hit him like a slap—he finally realized what he'd done.
"I-I'm sorry. We must've had too much to drink—"
"You bastard!"
Alpheas stormed in and punched Sarov square in the face. Sarov crashed to the floor. His friends jumped up, shouting.
"Alpheas! What the hell?! You can't just—!"
"No, it's fine," Sarov muttered, raising a hand to calm them. He was deeply ashamed. Was this what he'd become? Just a bitter man taking shots at his rival's wife?
"Get out. Before I kill you. Get the hell out of my house."
"I'm sorry. We won't come back."
Sarov and his friends left quietly. Silence fell over the room. Alpheas was seething. He knew exactly why they'd made Erina sing that song.
"What happened? Why were they here?"
Erina didn't answer. She was trembling—this was the angriest she'd ever seen her husband.
"I said, talk! Why did you let those bastards in?!"
"I thought… they were your friends. I thought you'd be happy…"
"Happy? With someone like that? You can't even tell the difference between a real friend and a fake one? And you were singing for them? How could you be so stupid?!"
Alpheas turned away, his face contorted with regret. Words he should never have said—words he promised himself he'd never say—had already come out.
You useless girl. You're not even a person.
He wished he could rewind time, but even then… would he have acted differently? The anger was too overwhelming.
"Forget what I said. I didn't mean it. It was a mistake."
"Honey… I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
Her apology made it worse. She wasn't the one who needed to apologize. So where could he unload this rage?
"I'm going out for some air. I'll be fine later. Just go to sleep."
Alpheas left the house. That was the only way he could calm down without making things worse.
He went to the inn where Clump was staying and drank through the night. But no matter how much he drank, he didn't get drunk. The memory of Sarov faded—but the thought of how much Erina must have hurt stayed sharp in his mind.
"Damn it. I'm trash. I don't deserve to be her husband. She trusted me, believed in me… and I talked to her like that."
Clump gave him a sympathetic look. As a fellow man, he understood Alpheas' anger—but it didn't excuse what had happened.
"They say a fight between a husband and wife is like cutting water with a knife. It'll pass. This might even bring you closer."
Alpheas said nothing, so Clump brought up something he'd been thinking about.
"Why don't you two try for a baby?"
Alpheas' eyes lit up briefly but then dimmed again.
Clump narrowed his eyes. "Wait… don't tell me you can't? Not even once—"
"What are you saying? We're married. Erina may be young, but she knows everything."
"Tch, who said anything? I meant you might be the problem. Maybe you're not a man, Jesu. Hah."
Alpheas didn't even smile. He just stared at his drink and knocked it back bitterly.
Clump sighed.
"Seriously though. What's the problem? Just have a kid, live your life."
"It's not that simple. I'm not sure… Erina can handle childbirth."
"What? Is she sick or something?"
"No. It's just… giving birth is incredibly painful. Can she handle it? And raising a child is another challenge altogether."
Clump thought it over. In the end, it came down to one thing—could someone so intelligent truly bear that kind of suffering? Intelligence shapes how we perceive pain. Knowing too much can make suffering worse.
"Alpheas, I hate to say it, but… you knew this from the start. When you decided to marry her…"
"I know. And I don't regret it. Not even a little. I can't live without Erina. Without her, none of this means anything."
Clump took two quick shots, frustrated but understanding.
"So what's the plan? This isn't like you—sitting around moping. What's eating at a genius like you?"
Alpheas spun his glass slowly, eyes distant. But somewhere in that haze, his usual sharpness began to return.
Arcane was aware that someone had broken into his dungeon the night before. But he wasn't concerned. After all, plenty of people had tried their luck in the Archmage's lair, chasing after treasure. Most of them ended up as corpses—either taken by monsters or killed by traps.
Pushing the thought aside, Arcane returned his focus to his research. Lately, he'd been studying how dark magic affects memory. He scribbled notes furiously, but his hand suddenly froze. He removed his glasses and looked toward the door. The dungeon's complex engine systems were being dismantled—quickly.
This one isn't ordinary.
A grin touched Arcane's lips.
"Did I finally catch a worthy fish?"
For Arcane, who spent years in isolation, dungeon raiders were a rare form of entertainment. But this time, it seemed he had hooked someone special.
The heavy iron door creaked open. Arcane glanced at his watch—32 hours, 28 minutes, and 5 seconds—the precise time it took to reach his lab from the dungeon entrance.
A man stepped in, bloodied but determined. He was strikingly handsome, with eyes full of fire.
"The Archmage... are you Viltor Arcane?"
"You don't seem like someone driven by greed. Who are you?" Arcane asked, narrowing his eyes.
"My name is Mirhi Alpheas. I had no other way to meet you... so I came myself."
"Oh?" Arcane's interest was piqued. Even though he was shut away from the world, he had already come across Alpheas' photon theory through secret channels.
"A light mage visiting a dark mage… how curious. Sit down. I'll treat your wounds."
Arcane activated his life-support system. The moment Alpheas entered the hemisphere-shaped device filled with green liquid, he fell into a deep sleep.
Three hours later.
"Pwah! Haha!"
Alpheas emerged from the fluid, gasping. He'd nearly drowned, yet somehow had fallen asleep. Confused, he looked around. Arcane sat calmly at his desk, pen in hand, continuing his thesis like an ordinary scholar—not the infamous dark mage feared across the continent.
"Thank you for the treatment. That machine... it's impressive. I'm curious how it works."
"There's no need to talk about that. You're still an uninvited guest. So tell me—why did you come here?"
Alpheas didn't waste time. "I want to learn dark magic. Please take me as your disciple."
Arcane leaned back, intrigued.
"Well, now. That's the most interesting request I've had in years. Any particular reason?"
"I have a wife," Alpheas said. "But her mental faculties are deteriorating. I heard rumors that you're researching memory storage through dark magic. I want to give her my memories."
Arcane's eyes gleamed with curiosity. There was no need for long explanations—they both understood each other's fields.
"I've done quite a bit of work on memory manipulation. But what you're suggesting… it's a whole different level. We're talking about personality transfer—moving a person's entire life experience."
"I believe it's possible. If we combine the absorption properties of dark magic with photon-based information transfer, couldn't we create a form of virtual intelligence?"
"Hmm... using photon magic to construct a nervous system, then embedding it with memories?"
It was a revolutionary idea. Until now, photon magic had been seen as little more than time manipulation. But Arcane believed that, with the right theory, it could shine in the field of information and consciousness.
"But before we go further—did your wife agree to this experiment?"
"I haven't asked her yet. But she'll understand. I'll make sure of it."
"There must be a story behind that," Arcane said.
Alpheas explained everything—his wife, her condition, and the desperate search that led him here. By the end of it, Arcane understood. The man's resolve was real. And his theory wasn't nonsense—it was genius.
They spent the rest of the day reviewing the concept. Eventually, they agreed: this wasn't a pipe dream.
"Very well," Arcane said at last. "If you're prepared to risk your life, I'll accept you as my disciple. But convincing your family… that won't be easy."
Alpheas nodded. He came from a prestigious lineage. Giving up a secure future at the Dragon Magic Division to join a dark mage in an underground lab would be scandalous.
But he had already made up his mind.
If Erina was suffering, he was suffering. Her happiness was all that mattered.
"Thank you. I'll return with my family soon."
Back at home, Alpheas sat down with his wife Erina and her brother, Clump. Given the stakes, Clump needed to be involved.
Alpheas emphasized that there was hope—Erina's declining intellect could be restored. But Clump reacted instantly.
"Alpheas, have you lost your mind? You went to him? That man's a criminal!"
"That doesn't matter," Alpheas replied calmly. "What matters is that he's the greatest expert on dark magic—and on how the brain stores memory. This might be our only chance."
"No, you have to let it go. You're obsessed with something impossible! Implanting memories into another brain? That's pure fantasy!"
"Clump… why are you being like this?"
"Because I'm not like you! I'm not a genius. But even I know one thing: you're throwing away everything you've worked for! If you associate with someone like Arcane, you'll be expelled from the Dragon Magic Division. The family will disown you!"
Alpheas knew all of this. He had weighed every consequence.
"I don't care. None of that defines my life. Not my family, not status or titles. If Erina can smile again… that's all I need to be happy."
Erina hesitated. It was a heavy choice. But Alpheas' final words left no room for doubt.
If he could find happiness through her, then she would find it through him too.
"…Then let's do it, my love," she whispered.