Kael staggered through the academy corridor. Thankfully, the soul wraith seemed to have disappeared—though that hardly mattered now. He had already walked straight into the old ghost's trap.
"Where's your dome?"
"My dome?"
"Why are you answering my question with a question?"
"Oh... well, since you possessed my body, shouldn't you be able to access my memories?"
"I haven't fully integrated into this body yet," Kael muttered, pressing forward. Around him, students whispered as he passed, their hushed voices barely concealed.
"Right… I forgot. Turn left and head to room 406."
Eventually, Kael reached the door and fished out a key from his pocket. He unlocked it, pushed the door open, and slumped onto the bed. His body was exhausted. He needed time to properly merge his soul with it.
"It seems you have quite a reputation," Kael remarked, recalling the murmurs that had followed him through the halls.
"Oh... that," the voice hesitated. "Well... how should I put this…? My reputation's not great. I, uh… touched the saintess's breast."
"…What?"
"It was an accident!" The voice protested quickly. "I tripped and fell! And, well… you know, the holy power pouch is the best cushion to break a fall."
Kael paused. "Did you just call the saintess's breasts holy power pouches?"
"Hey, I was just being descriptive! And in my defense, they are blessed by the gods!"
Kael sighed. "Yeah. You're definitely a pervert."
...
Before long, Kael drifted into sleep. But it wasn't the usual kind. This was deep—so deep that his soul started merging with Ian's body.
Ian, bored as ever, took the opportunity to drag Kael's consciousness into the white space, allowing the integration to continue.
Kael blinked a few times, adjusting to the endless whiteness. In front of him, Ian lounged on a throne, a wide grin on his face.
"Kneel before the king!" Ian declared.
Kael shrugged. "Guess you've never heard the phrase I kneel before no one."
"Tsk, as expected, you haven't changed."
"Uh?"
"Never mind. You'll understand soon enough."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Let me see the contract again."
"Why?"
"When I met the saintess, something felt off. I swear the terms seemed different—like that part about me not being able to show emotions on my face."
"Oh..." Ian reached out, summoning the contract into his hands. "True, it's not written there… at least not in the part you saw. That one's fake."
With a smirk, he tore off the top layer, revealing another contract underneath.
"The real terms are here," he said smugly.
Kael's expression darkened. "You forged a second layer?"
"Of course!" Ian grinned. "I knew how you'd react, so I prepared for it in advance. Genius, right?"
Kael exhaled sharply. "And this actually counts?"
"Yep. Feel free to test it—go ahead and try breaking a term. See what happens."
Ian leaned back, still grinning. "Anyway, this isn't the first time we've had this conversation. I already know all your questions. But trust me—I know everything that'll happen in the academy." He paused. "Well, almost everything."
Kael studied him for a moment, then asked, "If you know so much, why didn't you avoid ending up half-dead in the first place?"
Ian's smile faltered for a brief second. "Good question. The problem isn't knowing—it's changing things. I can't. There's some kind of restriction stopping me. But you, on the other hand… you can."
Kael raised a brow. "And how exactly do you know that?"
"Trial and error," Ian said with a casual shrug. "After testing it countless times, we came up with an idea—you handle the changes. I can only tell you an event before it happens. No more than that."
Kael folded his arms. "So you don't actually see the future. And since we've already had this conversation, that means… you regressed, didn't you?" His voice turned skeptical. "And you expect me to believe that?"
Ian tilted his head. "Oh… I almost forgot." His grin widened. "Your real name is Amon. You reincarnated into this world after dying of hunger in your previous one. Your father was abusive. Your mother was a strip dancer. You were an unwanted pregnancy, so they treated you like trash. When you turned thirteen, you celebrated your birthday by bathing in their blood."
Kael froze.
"Stop!" he shouted, clutching his head as a sudden headache struck him.
His past.
No one—absolutely no one—should have known about that.
But Ian did.
Which meant there was only one explanation.
Ian really was a regressor.
Kael frowned. "Then let's get to the point—what do you want?"
Ian's playful demeanor vanished. He leaned forward, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
"My sister," he said. "No matter what I do, her fate is fixed. Her death always happens. I've regressed over and over, but I can't change it." His fingers clenched into a fist. "So that's my deal. Help me make sure she survives, and once it's done… this body is yours. I'll leave."
Kael watched him for a long moment. Ian didn't look like he was bluffing.
Before Kael could say anything, Ian waved his hand, and several objects appeared between them.
Kael's eyes widened in recognition.
These weren't just any items.
They were things of incredible value.
"You recognize them, don't you?" Ian smirked. "Consider them my first investment in our little deal."
Kael reached out, his fingers grazing one of the items. "...This is getting interesting... a vampiric iron."