NOVPUBAn awkward silence filled the faculty office.
As I silently stared at her, Flora floundered, face flushed.
“Ah, n-no, I mean—this is...!”
“Did you... get confused or something?”
Since we’d get nowhere if I just let this drag on, I offered her an excuse.
“Y-yes. I guess I got a little mixed up.”
“Not like you to make a mistake.”
Well, fine.
I smoothly channeled mana into my palm and manifested the framework spell—the magical array that composed [Source Code].
In an instant, a geometric construct of radiant white lines materialized above my hand.
Flora Lumos’s pupils widened at the sight of it, shining like crystal.
“You alright?”
I belatedly recalled Flora’s unique constitution.
She sensed mana through a heightened, alternate perception—one that occasionally overwhelmed her. At times, it caused her knees to buckle or sent her into a daze.
It was similar to what one might call ‘Stendhal Syndrome.’
At my question, Flora took a deep breath and gave a small nod.
“I’m... okay.”
“Good.”
I extended the framework toward her.
“Place your hand here.”
She hesitated briefly—likely remembering her earlier blunder—but eventually did as instructed and placed her hand on the spell.
As her palm touched the glowing framework, it vanished in an instant, melting away like snow under sunlight.
“So this is the framework...”
Flora murmured in awe, marveling at the strange sensation of the spell embedding directly into her body.
It must’ve felt odd—having a technique branded into your skin like that.
“That’s it. Transfer complete. If that’s all, you can go.”
“Ah, um...”
“Yes?”
“That spell you showed me... back in your private lab...”
“When you passed out?”
Her voice had grown faint—probably out of embarrassment.
I quickly recalled the event she was referring to.
“You mean the Klein Bottle?”
The Klein Bottle—a magical array that moved beyond the conventional three-dimensional diagrams of magical theory, expanding into higher dimensions.
Technically speaking, the Klein Bottle had no magical function in itself.
It was simply the result of an experiment—my way of testing how far mana, this mystical energy, could go.
“Why are you asking?”
“There was something else. Another spell you were developing—wasn’t there?”
“So you peeked at what was written on the chalkboard.”
At that, Flora gave me a look of mild exasperation.
“You had it drawn out right there. How could I not see it?”
“Still, it’s impolite to snoop. I’m letting it slide, but be more careful with others.”
“...So what’s that spell called?”
“That one?”
Flora was referring to the advanced construct I’d been designing—something beyond the Klein Bottle.
At a glance, it looked like a pair of interlinked cubes, but in reality, it was a vastly more complex four-dimensional object.
“A Tesseract. That’s what I call it.”
“Tesseract?”
“Or in other words... a hypercube.”
Of course, she wouldn’t understand. The concept was likely incomprehensible in this era.
But just from the name, she seemed to sense that it was something extraordinary. Her voice trembled slightly.
“What kind of magic is it? What are you trying to do with it?”
“Hard to say.”
I gave a vague reply on purpose.
The Klein Bottle and the Tesseract—they were both pure research.
An attempt to understand the limits of mana. To see how far its influence could extend.
To test whether it could reach beyond three-dimensional space and manipulate the fourth dimension—space-time itself.
The Tesseract study was a question posed toward that possibility.
And through the Klein Bottle, I’d already found my answer: yes.
So the real question now was—what would I do with that answer?
That answer... was already settled in my heart.
But it wasn’t something I could share with a student so easily.
“Let’s call it... a pursuit of the unknown.”
That was the best I could offer her for now.
“...Fine. If you don’t want to talk about it, don’t.”
Flora clearly knew I was being evasive, and she replied with a slightly sulky tone.
“Anyway, I’ve got what I came for. I’ll get going. Thanks.”
“Alright.”
“Oh, one more thing—about that girl, Rine.”
She had just reached for the door handle when she turned her head slightly and asked:
“Do you and her... already know each other?”
“Me? Why would you think that?”
“No reason. Just a feeling.”
“‘Just a feeling.’ That’s not very mage-like of you—no analysis?”
“...So? Do you?”
“I’m a newly appointed teacher. I couldn’t possibly have known a freshman before arriving here. Is that a satisfactory answer?”
“I suppose so. Oh, and one last thing.”
So this is the real reason she stayed?
“What now?”
“Are you... feeling alright? I mean physically.”
“My health? What are you talking about?”
“You’re really okay?”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
And I truly didn’t. But even after hearing my answer, Flora didn’t take her suspicious eyes off me.
In the end, she raised a hand to stop me.
“...Forget it. I shouldn’t have asked. Please pretend you didn’t hear that.”
She shook her head, as if regretting the question, and her hair gently rustled with the motion.
Flora then promptly left the office.
Why did she ask if I was unwell? Is she planning to bring me health supplements or something?
No idea what that was about.
I glanced at the clock on the faculty room wall—and winced.
Damn. Time flew.
Flora’s unexpected visit had eaten up more time than I realized.
I grabbed my coat and quickly left the office.
It was time to head to the Kingdom of Durmang.
* * *
“It’s been a while since I’ve been in this country.”
After a long train ride, I finally arrived at my destination.
Looking out over the landscape, I muttered to myself.
Five years, since the Night of Blood incident?
Back then, I had operated mostly in the city of Jévaudan, so this remote village was practically unknown to me.
“Tch.”
Hans, trailing behind me, let out a heavy sigh.
“Why the hell did I have to come along for this?”
“Because you’re the right man for the job.”
“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Isn’t intelligence gathering your specialty?”
When I said that, Hans muttered with a bitter look, “Well... you’re not wrong.”
He was confident in his network. His reach extended beyond cities—across nations.
But still... this place was another story.
“You think we’ll actually find anything here?”
Hans looked unimpressed at the ruined remains of what had once been one of the most beautiful villages in the kingdom.
Roteng had burned completely during the Great Fire and couldn’t even be called a village anymore.
The blackened char marks had long since faded, replaced by dense overgrowth untouched by human hands.
Vines and moss covered the few remains, and the endless chirping of insects echoed through the overgrown ruins.
It felt more like an ancient ruin than a modern village.
Hans didn’t believe there’d be anything worth recovering here.
“There is something,” I said.
“Like what?”
“A survivor.”
Though the fire was said to have claimed everyone in Roteng, there were three known survivors.
And one of them was said to still live somewhere in the vicinity.
“If you knew that, you could’ve come alone.”
“Would’ve been boring.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“Let’s go.”
“...Haa. Fine.”
Hans and I pushed through the tall grass that now covered the old road.
Once a proper path into the village, it had long since been swallowed by nature.
I reached out, and with a flick of my hand, a breeze cleared the way.
Together, we scoured the ruins of the village of Roteng.
But all we saw were dense weeds and overgrowth. Not a single sign of the survivor.
“Boss. You sure this person didn’t just skip town? We’ve been looking and there’s not even a trace.”
“No. They’re still here.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“Look over there.”
Ludger raised a hand and pointed.
At the edge of the ruins stood a shabby little shack. It was so small it could’ve easily been mistaken for a storage shed.
Unlike the rest of the wreckage, overgrown with vines and moss, that single hut looked... clean, as if someone had been tending to it.
“Looks like someone actually lives there.”
“Huh? Oh damn, you’re right. Weird... why didn’t I see that before?”
“It’s been concealed—so nobody could stumble upon it easily.”
“Come again? What do you mean by that?”
Hans, still puzzled, quickly chased after Ludger, who was already walking ahead.
Ludger stopped in front of the hut and knocked gently on the door.
There was no answer.
Gripping the rusted handle, he slowly pushed. It opened without resistance.
Didn’t even bother locking it.
As the door creaked open, a strange scent wafted out.
Oil paint.
Having lived under many identities, Ludger had dabbled in the arts before—he recognized the smell of pigments used in oil painting.
Sunlight streamed into the cramped hut through a single cracked window, revealing motes of dust swirling in the still air.
Paintings covered the walls and floor.
All were oil-painted landscapes.
“Damn, what’s with all the paintings?”
Hans stepped inside and looked around, his expression twisting as he realized there was barely any room to stand.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s here?”
“Yeah.”
Ludger closed the door.
Whoever lived here clearly still lived here—but they weren’t home at the ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) moment.
Should they wait for the occupant to return? Or go find them? Ludger hesitated briefly.
Then he raised his head and looked off into the distance.
“Sir? What is it?”
“They’re that way.”
“Huh? Hey, hold on! Wait for me!”
A faint residual trace of mana drifted on the breeze. Ludger followed it at a steady pace.
The magic trail wasn’t far.
Behind the village, atop a gentle hill overlooking the ruined town, sat a man. He was quietly sketching something.
“Wait, don’t tell me that’s the guy?”
“Seems like we found him.”
One of the three survivors of the Great Fire of Roteng.
Ludger resumed walking.
As they closed the distance, the man’s appearance became clear.
He looked to be in his thirties, with a gentle, fragile expression. His worn clothes were stained with paint.
But what stood out most were the black blindfolds wrapped around both of his eyes.
He’s blind? Yet the paintings in the shack had been filled with vivid color and detail.
Even up close, the man didn’t turn toward them—no twitch, no flicker of recognition.
It wasn’t an act or a trick. He truly couldn’t see.
Ludger ascended the grassy hill, each step stirring the wind through the tall grass.
Rustle.
Hearing the sound, the man paused mid-brushstroke.
“A visitor?” he said quietly. “What brings you to a place like this?”
“If I interrupted your painting, I apologize.”
The man gave a faint smile and shook his head.
“No, not at all. I was nearly finished anyway.”
Ludger glanced at the canvas.
A detailed image of the ruined village below stretched across it—accurate to the smallest detail.
“You can see all that?”
“No. I simply... feel it. The scents carried on the wind. The sound of insects. The touch of nature against my skin. If you live long enough in one place, your body learns these things.”
The man began calmly packing up his painting tools.
Ludger waited silently.
“Thank you for waiting. I’d offer you some tea, but... well, my home’s a mess.”
“It’s fine.”
Ludger looked around for somewhere to sit.
Other than the stone the man himself was using, there weren’t any decent options.
Thud.
He stomped lightly on the ground—and a small mound of earth rose up like a seat.
Ludger sat down casually.
“...You’re a mage?”
Apparently, the man had sensed Ludger using magic. He seemed a bit surprised.
Ludger chuckled.
“Aren’t you one as well?”
“...Pardon?”
Hans, who had been quietly listening, was the only one still confused.
“He’s a mage too,” Ludger explained.
“...You noticed. Yes. I suppose I am, in a way.”
The reason Ludger had been able to trace him here in the first place was because of the mana that lingered as he painted.
The reason Hans hadn’t spotted the hut was the same—
—the man had used magic to conceal it.
“Didn’t expect one of the few survivors of the Great Fire to be a mage.”
“I’m not skilled enough to be called that, honestly. I only picked up a bit, secondhand.”
“Yet you imbue mana into your paintings. That’s not something you learn from just watching others.”
“I’ve painted for a long time. It just came naturally. Anyway... may I ask why someone like you has come all the way here?”
“You know who I am?”
The man shook his head.
“No. I don’t know your name.”
“Then why call me someone important?”
“Because even if I can’t see... sometimes, not seeing lets you feel things more clearly.”
The blindfolded man stared in Ludger’s direction as if looking straight through him.
“The wind tells me. The strange aura you carry. Nature itself whispers to me... that you’re the one who stopped the horrors that once plagued this land.”
“...Didn’t expect you to be attuned to spirits too.”
“I’ve never formed a contract. I only hear fragments—faint echoes, that’s all. Nothing worthy of a title.”
“Same here. I’m not someone grand enough to be called a hero.”
The man finally moved to the heart of the matter.
“Then what brings you here?”
“The Great Fire of Roteng.”
At Ludger’s words, the man flinched.
“I heard there were survivors.”
“Yes. I’m one of them.”
“There were three in total, counting you.”
“...So you know that too.”
The expression on the blindfolded man’s face made it clear—he hadn’t expected Ludger to know that detail.
“You came to learn more?”
“I want to know who the other two are.”
By now, the sun had started to set.
The world turned crimson under the blazing dusk sky.
A cold breeze blew in from the west, carrying with it the chill of night.
Their shadows stretched long over the hilltop.
“...I’d appreciate it if you told me.”
