Late at night, the house was silent. Yiel stood in the dim corridor holding a lantern.
She had always kept a healthy routine—early to bed, early to rise. Now dressed in her soft pajamas, she was rubbing her sleepy eyes, her voice drowsy.
"I just finished copying the book and went to the bathroom," she murmured, yawning. "Then I saw the light in your room was still on, Master..."
"Ah, don't worry. I'll go to bed after I finish reading this letter," Will replied.
"But you said the same thing last time…" Yiel frowned, her words soft. "And then, in the morning, I found you asleep at your desk. Please don't stay up too late, Master... I worry about you."
"I'm still young. Don't worry, I won't die anytime soon," Will said with a smile, thinking to himself, I stayed up late when I was almost 30 in my last life. Why not now, when I'm just a teenager?
"Hm… that doesn't sound quite right. But... good night, Master~" Yiel whispered, gently closing the door as if lost in thought.
Will turned back to his desk.
The ancient book wasn't too difficult to interpret. The text was mostly legible, but there were missing words and sentences he had to guess at.
It was strange how little the language in this world had changed over the centuries. But then again, expecting a world from a light novel to have realistic linguistic evolution was probably asking too much.
As he read, he scribbled notes on scrap paper, jotting down spells, chants, and procedures.
The Extreme Flame Meteor spell was considered basic ancient flame magic. For witches who specialized in ancient magic, it was little more than a long-range attack.
However, the story world had the classic "older is stronger" trope. Even the simplest ancient spells were more powerful than modern magic.
"Hmm… apply the medium to a round object first? Then... recite the chant like this…"
"The temperature for the medium activation is lower than I expected…"
"…Is this a modern substitute for ancient magic?"
Will muttered to himself, his focus blurring as sleepiness crept in. The flickering candlelight in front of him seemed to merge with his thoughts.
In his dream, the same orange firelight illuminated the scene.
Before him stood Yiel, wearing her maid outfit. Her wolf ears swayed with the flames, and though her stance was shaky, she stood firm.
Her body bore both burns and frostbite—symptoms of someone unskilled in using Ice Armor against a foe far stronger than herself.
In front of her loomed the massive fire dragon, Al, the final boss of the dungeon Galaxy Summit's 50th floor.
Yiel panted, struggling to stand but falling to her knees again. Her once-white socks were stained with ash.
The fire dragon's shadow swallowed her whole. Its massive claw slammed beside her, sending a shockwave that blew her away. She had no weapon, no strength left to fight back.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" Yiel whimpered, tears streaming down her soot-covered face. "Xiu… I should have stood up for you… I should have protected you…"
She lay on her side but forced herself to look up at the shadowy figure standing on the dragon's back.
"Can you come back? You're so strong now…"
"Everyone in the Star of the Morning misses you… I miss you too…"
Her voice cracked, filled with regret.
"I'll make tea for you every afternoon… bake cakes for you… If anyone scolds you, I'll defend you this time…"
But the figure on the dragon's back didn't respond.
Beside him was a small dragon girl, her tail swishing as she clung to his arm. The shadow turned and walked away with the dragon girl, cold and distant.
"Ooo… Did I lose after all?"
Yiel, with her wolf ears and tail, knelt in defeat. Her body was covered in burns and bruises, her tail singed and drooping, her ears bloodied and limp. Tears fell onto the burning ground and evaporated instantly.
"Xiu… please… don't leave me…" she sobbed, trembling.
Her injuries worsened until her burned skin flaked away as ash. The Ice Armor on her shoulders slid off. Her cries grew weaker until she could no longer speak.
Will watched helplessly.
He recognized this moment. It was one of the illustrated scenes from the original story—the one where Yiel, the beast maid, was defeated by the dragon girl.
The image was so vivid: her burnt tail, trembling shoulders, and drooping ears. The shadowy figure on the dragon's back was untouchable, unreachable.
It was, without a doubt, the depiction of a tragic loser.
In the original story, these moments of heartbreak were supposed to entertain readers. After all, wasn't it satisfying to watch people suffer the consequences of their actions?
But now...
Now, Yiel wasn't just a character. She was his loyal, well-behaved maid.
She was the one who knocked on his door in the middle of the night, yawning and reminding him to sleep.
She was the one who sat in the garden, taking notes during his lectures.
She was the one who trained with him every morning and brewed him fresh tea every afternoon.
"Yiel!"
"YIEL!"
"YIEL!!!"
Will reached out, his hand crossing the flames in the dream, grabbing her trembling shoulders—
"Master?!"
Will jolted awake, clutching Yiel's wrist.
She stood in front of him, dressed in her velvet pajamas and holding a thick blanket. Her face was flushed red in the light of the desk lamp.
"Young Master… did you have a nightmare?"
Will blinked, shaking off the remnants of the dream. She looked so much younger—just a girl, five or six years younger than the defeated Yiel in his nightmare.
"I… I guess it was a nightmare," he muttered. "I got too caught up."
He glanced at her.
"But… Yiel, why are you here?"