"Are you absolutely certain he only wants 10,000 gold coins?" The middle-aged man leaned forward, his eyes narrowing at the vice principal, suspicion etched into the lines of his face. His brows arched slightly, as if the mere thought of such a simple request raised doubts in his mind.
The vice principal shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. "That's all he asked for, 10,000 gold coins," he said, his voice betraying a hint of reluctance. He was bound by obligation to answer the man truthfully; after all, the family behind this inquisitor had helped him in the past. Though he couldn't stand this man's presence, loyalty demanded cooperation.
The man across from him nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the vice principal's. "If that's all, it seems harmless enough. But tell me, is everything still the same with him at the academy? No changes?" His tone was casual, but the question was far from trivial. It was one he asked every time, a constant reminder that he had an interest in one particular student, Oliver.
"Yes, everything's the same," the vice principal confirmed, sighing as if tired of repeating himself. "No one interacts with him. Well, except for the Principal's granddaughter, but you already know that."
The inquisitor raised an eyebrow, as if this minor detail piqued his interest. "Indeed. Keep a close eye on him, will you? It's fine if they're just acquaintances, but I don't want anyone getting too close to him. You understand the importance of this, don't you?"
The vice principal, growing impatient, finally asked the question that had been brewing for weeks. "Why are you so insistent on this? You've mentioned it time and again. What's going on? Why does it matter if people get close to him?"
The inquisitor's expression darkened for a moment, but then he offered a tight-lipped smile. "It's for his own good, and for the good of everyone around him. We need to ensure he stays on the path we've set for him. Any distractions, any external influences, could lead him astray. I hope you can see that."
"Are you sure nothing bad will happen?" The vice principal's frustration bubbled to the surface. "No danger at all?"
The inquisitor's voice softened, almost as if he were speaking to a child. "Yes, I assure you, no one will be in danger. As long as things remain as they are, you have nothing to worry about."
The vice principal hesitated, then nodded in resignation. "Fine. What about the Principal's granddaughter? Should I be concerned about her involvement?"
"We've already spoken to the Principal," the inquisitor replied, standing up and smoothing his cloak. "He understands the situation and will not interfere. Now, enjoy your afternoon tea, Vice Principal. I'll take my leave." He turned on his heel and strode towards the door before the vice principal could offer a response.
Once outside, the inquisitor reached up and pulled off the mask that had concealed his true face. The human skin slipped away effortlessly, revealing someone entirely different underneath. As for the man the mask had mimicked, his whereabouts remained a mystery. Perhaps no one would ever know.
---
Over the next two days, the academy buzzed with excitement. Beyond the usual competitions, the much-anticipated resurrection matches were set to take place, where the most popular contestants would have a chance to fight their way back into the running. Among them were familiar faces, especially the little girl and the couple who had competed against Oliver earlier. Their popularity was undeniable, with nearly half the audience chanting their names like loyal fans. The other half consisted of teachers, casual spectators, and students who were there simply to enjoy the spectacle.
Surprisingly, even Oliver, a relative newcomer, had started to garner attention. Whispers about his potential circulated through the crowd, though most dismissed him as an underdog destined to fail in the next round. They chalked up his past victories to luck: the first due to his opponent's overconfidence, the second because of his opponent's inexperience with magic, and the third to the classmates who underestimated him and held back.
It stung, even if it wasn't untrue. Oliver could feel the weight of their doubts pressing down on him. But he shrugged it off. Disappointment was a familiar feeling, and he wasn't about to let it consume him now.
With a sigh, he focused his magic and let it course through his body. From his vantage point high above the academy, the scene below unfolded in striking clarity. He could see the contestants laughing, students huddled in groups discussing the latest matches, and teachers trying in vain to maintain order in the chaos.
For a brief moment, Oliver closed his eyes, imagining himself floating higher, as though the very sky was his to command. Up there, the air was crisp and cool, though he couldn't feel it, he was too far gone in thought. Alone in the vast expanse of the cloudless sky, it was just him, suspended between the world he knew and the uncertainty that awaited him.
A rare sense of comfort washed over him, but it was fleeting, elusive. Despite his attempts to relax, Oliver couldn't quiet his mind. His body might have been tired, but it was his thoughts, racing, relentless, that truly wore him down. Irritation simmered beneath the surface, his inability to find peace gnawing at him.
Faces flickered in his mind like ghosts, silent and expressionless, one after another. No words were spoken, no emotions conveyed, yet they cycled through his consciousness repeatedly, each appearance feeding his restlessness. He sighed deeply, hoping that sleep might offer him the escape he so desperately sought, a place to hide his worries, to find genuine relaxation, not just of the body but of the mind.
He needed that mental calm, a release from the turmoil swirling inside him. Without it, he feared he'd lose himself to the madness of constant anxiety.
Yet sleep refused to come. His eyes remained open, fixed on the world below as he hovered above it, watching the academy's grounds stretch out in the fading light. Time crept by, minute after minute, until the magic he'd summoned was completely drained. Oliver rose to his feet, stretching as the last vestiges of daylight vanished, the sun replaced by the cold, distant glow of the moon.
His stomach grumbled. You have to eat, he reminded himself. No matter how many burdens you carry, hunger is still real.
On his way to find food, he crossed paths with a small, silver-haired girl.
"Big brother, are you going to get dinner too?" she asked, her wide eyes sparkling with youthful curiosity.
Oliver scratched his head, the simple gesture grounding him. "Yeah, want to join me?"
Her face brightened instantly. "Sure!" she chirped, falling into step beside him.
They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. She was clearly tired from a long day of competition, and Oliver, though not physically exhausted, was weighed down by his mental fatigue. The warmth of the afternoon sun had left her a little sleepy, while he wrestled with the storm in his mind.
After a while, she broke the quiet. "By the way, big brother, how did you find the location of the two wooden signs yesterday?"
Oliver paused, considering his answer before replying with a small grin. "That's a secret."
She gave him a curious look, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. He chuckled, unable to resist her earnestness. "Tell you what," he said, relenting slightly, "I'll let you in on the secret when you can fully control your magic."
It suddenly clicked for him why she hadn't dodged the arrows in the previous round. She was too young, too inexperienced to harness her full power yet. Her raw talent was undeniable, but she still had much to learn.
"Promise?" Her voice was soft but determined, as if she was willing herself to grow stronger right there on the spot.
Oliver smiled, amused by her tenacity. "I promise. In fact, when the time comes, I won't just tell you the secret, I'll teach you how to use it."
Her eyes lit up with excitement, her earlier exhaustion forgotten. Her eagerness reminded him of someone from his past, a friend long gone but never forgotten.
"Really?"
"Really. It wasn't too hard when I learned it, so you'll pick it up in no time."
Her enthusiasm shifted, as she changed the subject with the same youthful energy. "What are you going to eat tonight, big brother?"
He frowned slightly, suddenly unsure. "I haven't decided yet," he admitted, scratching his head again in mock frustration. They spent the next few minutes debating what to eat, only to find that most of the food stalls were already sold out. In the end, they settled on bowls of simple noodles, a humble yet comforting choice.
After finishing their meal, they parted ways with a wave and the usual goodbyes. Oliver found himself once again walking alone down the familiar road he'd traveled countless times before. The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the path.
As he walked, memories of his old friends surfaced, unbidden but welcome. They had grown up together, bonded through the rigorous teachings of their instructor. Though much of their time had been spent under strict guidance, those shared experiences had forged an unbreakable connection. It was a bond that, despite the passage of time, he still cherished.
Yet, despite that connection, he always felt a distance between himself and others. There was something different about him, something that made him hesitant to fully immerse himself in the human world. It was as though he stood on the edge, looking in but never stepping across the line. He feared losing himself, becoming something else entirely, someone unrecognizable.
It was exhausting, this constant balancing act. The effort it took to maintain his identity, to keep from slipping too far into the unknown, left him feeling powerless at times.
He sighed, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him once again. So many worries, so many questions, and no easy answers in sight. "What a bother," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the soft breeze that accompanied him on his lonely walk.
And yet, despite the trouble, he pressed on, as he always did.