Shirone's face turned red with embarrassment, and his friends weren't any different. Amy sighed and rubbed her temples.
"Seriel, what kind of books have you been reading lately?"
"Ha! This one!"
Seriel pulled out a book she'd clearly been eager to share. The title, Primal Lasso, was stamped across a bright red cover.
"This is the hottest novel in bookstores right now! It's about a married nobleman falling for a lady-in-waiting. Listen to this line—'I broke your plate. What are you going to do now? Will you claim my body?' Then the nobleman ties her up with a rope and—"
"Stop! That's enough!"
Amy raised her hand, cutting her off. She couldn't handle any more of that.
"What? It's just getting to the good part!"
"Seriel, fiction is fine, but don't confuse it with real life. These books are full of flashy, over-the-top drama just to hook the reader."
"Hmph! That's because you haven't read it. Once you do, you'll be hooked too! Want me to lend it to you?"
Seriel held the Primal Lasso out with a hopeful smile, but Amy quickly turned her head. If she gave in, she knew Seriel would bombard her with comments for the next week.
Shirone leaned back into the cushions with a sigh.
"Ha... Today's my last day in the infirmary. Thanks for visiting every day. You too, Senior Seriel."
"Oh, don't say that like it's a sad thing. Honestly, I was suffocating from all the senior year pressure. It was a relief to hang out with you and Amy."
Amy nodded in agreement. Competing for class rankings had been exhausting. The temporary school closure had been a much-needed break for all the upperclassmen.
Seriel's expression darkened slightly.
"But the principal's situation is worrying. Honestly, I didn't expect things to go this far. This kind of issue could've been handled by the Creas Autonomous District, but he insisted on involving the Magic Association himself."
It was Alpheas who had voluntarily reported the issue. Despite his high status across the continent, he accepted the student council's arguments without resistance. Eventually, the matter was handed over to the 3rd Division of the Inspection Department—infamous for being the strictest within the Magic Association.
"The 3rd Division is practically the Magic Association's version of a special prosecutor. They don't care about personal connections—they just follow the law to the letter. Even someone like Principal Alpheas might not escape punishment."
But Shirone actually saw that as a good thing.
"The principal has been carrying this burden for 40 years. If accepting discipline eases that weight even a little... then I think it's worth it."
Neid chimed in.
"For now, let's just watch how things unfold. Who are we talking about here? It's Alpheas—a certified 4th-class mage. Once school starts up again, we'll be busy, so let's enjoy the break while it lasts."
"Yeah, that sounds good," Shirone said, gazing out the window. The afternoon sun filtered in gently, casting a soft golden light.
Capital City: Bashka
Bashka, viewed from the underground mountain range, was a city built in layers. At its center rose the royal castle, piercing the sky, with key institutions spreading out in concentric circles around it. To the people of Bashka, the buildings visible from the mountain range represented the pillars of their nation.
One of those was the Magic Association—a towering 18-story structure that managed all registered mages in the Kingdom of Tormia. It even oversaw intelligence operations through connections with other magical organizations.
It was the kind of place every mage dreamed of visiting at least once. But for Thaad, who accompanied Alpheas and Canis as their leader, the Magic Association felt more like a slaughterhouse than a place of honor.
"Master, are you sure about this?" Thaad asked.
"This is what I want," Alpheas replied firmly. "My only regret is not doing it sooner."
Thaad didn't press further. He'd never expected Alpheas to change his mind—he just wanted to confirm the master's resolve before they crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed.
"Understood. I'll wait until your trial is over."
Alpheas smiled faintly. After surrendering himself along with Canis and Arin, the three were locked in separate rooms under strict surveillance for a day.
The next day, Alpheas was called into the investigation room first. Meanwhile, Canis and Arin remained confined in a magically-sealed facility. The magic suppression devices prevented entry into the Spirit Zone—and even their Harvest techniques were unusable.
About three hours later, their names were called.
"Canis, Arin. Come out."
Though their charges hadn't been formally proven yet, the investigators treated them like criminals. No doubt Alpheas's earlier testimony had shaped that perception.
Canis and Arin said nothing, quietly following the guards through the corridor. As they walked, they spotted Alpheas returning from the opposite direction. Canis intended to pass him without a word—but just as they were about to cross paths, Alpheas turned to the jailer.
"Excuse me, could I speak with them for a moment?"
"Oh, yes, of course. Just keep it brief."
Canis scoffed at how differently the guards treated Alpheas. It wasn't his strength they respected—it was his fame. The fact that someone weaker than Arcane was receiving such polite treatment annoyed him.
As the guards stepped back to give them space, Alpheas spoke gently.
"There's no need to be nervous. Just answer their questions truthfully, and you'll be fine."
"Don't mistake us for your naive students," Canis snapped. "We've survived countless battles. There's nothing to be afraid of anymore."
Canis had lived through more hardships than most kids his age could imagine. But because of that, he'd also lost much. Alpheas wanted to help him regain something—hope, a future.
"That's actually why I wanted to talk," Alpheas said. "When this is over… why don't you consider enrolling in a magic school?"
Canis looked like he'd been slapped. Did Alpheas really think someone like him could just sit in a classroom? After everything he'd been through?
"Don't be ridiculous. I didn't lose because you were strong. If it weren't for Abyss Nova—no, if it had been a fair match, I would've flattened you in an instant."
"You're probably right," Alpheas admitted calmly. "But if things had gone differently, maybe I would've been the one kneeling and begging for mercy."
Canis bit his lip. He couldn't accept those words—but he couldn't deny them either.
"Canis, that's what evil is. No matter how noble your intentions, it'll always be misunderstood and hated. But you? You can rise above it. I want you to have a brighter future—not one lost in darkness."
"Why do you even care?" Canis asked, voice trembling. "Is this sympathy?"
"I was once a disciple of Arcane too. That alone could earn you the death penalty. Just like time can't be turned back, some bonds last forever. But if you truly want to start a new life, I'm willing to help you."
Canis didn't respond. What was the point of a new life? All he'd ever known was battle. It was the only path left to him.
As Alpheas walked away down the corridor, guards seized Canis and Arin once again, dragging them to the interrogation room. Unlike the grim dungeon cells of Inferno that Canis had imagined, the investigation room was surprisingly clean and orderly.
A small figure sat at the table with his back turned. The only detail visible was the silver hair.
"Inspector, these are the suspects in the case—Canis and Arin."
"Ah, bring them in."
The voice was chilling—like metal scraping against metal. It radiated a razor-sharp energy, fitting for someone from the notorious 3rd Division of the Inspection Bureau.
Canis and Arin moved around the table and sat across from the inspector. To their surprise, he didn't look intimidating. He had a sharp, cat-like chin and a thin-lipped smile beneath narrow, slit-like eyes.
"My name is Sakiri, inspector from Division 3. You are Canis and Arin, correct?"
"That's right," Canis replied steadily.
Arin, however, said nothing. Canis turned toward her, sensing her unease.
"Arin? What's wrong?"
She was trembling, her face pale. Her wide, shaking eyes were fixed on Sakiri. Canis noticed the panic in her expression and realized something was very wrong.
What could she be seeing?
"I… I can't read him," Arin whispered.
Arin, as a practitioner of menarche, should've easily been able to sense emotions. The only explanation was that Sakiri had no emotions—or had intentionally erased them.
The way Arin stared at Sakiri was unsettling. To her, his entire body appeared as reflective metal, smooth as a mirror. His face was featureless, shaped like an egg. His hands and feet tapered into conical points, giving off no emotional cues at all. This was the form one could only take in menarche if all emotion was entirely suppressed.
"My, seems the lady is a bit startled. Menarche, is it? I've sealed my magic, but unique traits like that aren't something I can hide. Still, I trust you both won't go berserk."
Sakiri set down his pen and crossed his conical legs with an air of casual interest.
Arin watched them twist and untwist, like a pretzel.
He's toying with us, she thought.
This wasn't just emotional suppression. This was total mastery over one's inner self.
"Focus."
Arin looked up. Sakiri's face had elongated into a pointed cone that hovered right in front of her forehead.
"Concentrate. I'm still on duty. Arin, is that your name?"
"Yes… it is," she answered, startled, not even realizing she had spoken.
The sharp cone pointed at her forehead wasn't a weapon—but Sakiri's focused intent. It was the first time Arin had ever seen menarche presented in such a pristine, intimidating form. She had the distinct feeling that anyone interrogated by this man would be utterly broken.
Canis and Arin were now face-to-face with the most elite judicial force in the kingdom—and there was no escape.
As the two sat quietly, Sakiri's face slowly reshaped from its needle-like point back into the smooth, metallic egg.
"Well then. Based on Alpheas' statement, I've drafted a preliminary report. There are a few things I'd like to clarify. Please answer honestly."
The questioning began. Sakiri asked several probing questions, and both Canis and Arin responded truthfully. After about an hour, Sakiri nodded with a satisfied look and began organizing the papers.
"Good. Most of your answers align with what we've heard. There are a few inconsistencies, but nothing major."
Coming from an inspector of Division 3, that seemed unusually lenient. Still, Sakiri reclined in his chair and continued.
"In the end, this all boils down to a form of brainwashing. Arcane exploited your miserable lives and manipulated you from childhood."
"What?"
Canis's eyes narrowed. He would've preferred to be called a villain. This statement erased everything he had lived through.
"Master never forced me to do anything. The choices were mine. Everything I did—I did because I chose to."
Arin grew tense. She knew how dangerous it was to speak out against an investigator. But Sakiri's metallic form, as seen through menarche, remained unchanged.
"A classic tactic," Sakiri replied. "They rescue you, make you look up to them, then say something like, 'I need this—but only if you want to.'"
Canis couldn't understand what Sakiri was trying to say. He'd come here to pay for his crimes. And now they were talking about brainwashing? Was this a prelude to sending him to a mental facility?