Some time had passed since the party, but news of what happened that night spread through the academy like an uncontrollable wildfire.
It reached a point where nearly everyone knew, even if only through distorted rumors, what had taken place.
In the silence of his own room, Ren lay on his bed, staring at the white ceiling, lost in thought.
He had always believed that, since he did not directly participate in the main storyline, the future would remain unchanged. He thought he had absolute control over his memories of the original novel, and so he decided to use them to his advantage, taking a few benefits here and there while avoiding, as much as possible, any interference with the flow of the narrative.
But he had been wrong.
No matter how small the change was. Once it began… there was no stopping it.
The realization struck him all at once.
A minimal alteration could generate massive transformations throughout the entire story. Like a line of dominoes: it didn't matter how weak the initial force was, once the first fell, all the others followed in an inevitable chain reaction.
He had been naïve. No… arrogant.
Because of that arrogance, the plot had begun to drift. Little by little, Ren realized he was losing the greatest advantage he possessed as the author of that story: knowledge of the future.
The incident between Elijah and Amanda should never have happened so early in the novel. Somehow, his actions had accelerated the events. Even as he repeated to himself that everything would be fine, deep down he knew the truth. He was only lying to himself.
However, above even the shock caused by the attack at the party, there was something even stranger that disturbed his mind.
A boy who had appeared out of nowhere and completely altered the course of the battle.
Ren only knew him by name. They had barely interacted. All he knew was that the boy occupied the very last place in the freshman rankings.
Information that now sounded like a cruel joke.
What he had seen during the fight did not match that position at all. Somehow, that boy had managed to hold Elijah back almost entirely on his own throughout the battle, even if he had not been able to finish him off.
But that was not the strangest part.
What truly bothered Ren was the way he had entrusted him with the final blow.
Without hesitation. Without doubt.
He had handed Ren that role with absurd certainty, as if he already knew him deeply… as if he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that Ren was the perfect person to end the fight.
But how could he know that?
That blind trust brought another recent memory to Ren's mind. The Everblood dungeon. Once again, someone had appeared, dominating the battlefield, holding back a demon far stronger than expected… and once again, had placed the responsibility for the final strike in Ren's hands.
His thoughts tangled together, forming an unsettling pattern.
Too many coincidences. Too many conveniences.
Everything was starting to feel wrong. Very wrong…
"Is it possible…?"
✦☀✦──────────────────────⚔──────────────────────✦☾✦
Flip!
With a dull thud, I closed the pages of a book already far too familiar to me. Its blue cover, slightly worn at the edges, bore a golden title that faintly reflected the dim light of the room, catching the weak glow slipping in through the half-open window.
The Chained Swordsman.
I let out a tired sigh, rubbing my face as I leaned back in my chair.
"Arff… looks like he's starting to suspect something…"
Ren was not an idiot. Never had been. And I knew that very well. From the start, it was only a matter of time before he began connecting the dots. Small details, mistimed reactions, information I clearly should not have had. From now on, he would probably be more attentive toward me… more cautious.
But that wasn't exactly a problem.
I had accounted for that possibility from the beginning. Sooner or later, I would have to lay my cards on the table with him. Just… not now. The timing still wasn't right.
I placed the book on the desk, pushing it aside before standing up. My eyes drifted to the clock hanging on the wall, and that was when a chill crept up my spine.
"Damn it…"
Today was Wednesday. After classes ended, I had returned to my room fully intending to take just a quick nap. After all, there were still a few hours left before my first alchemy session with Melissa. Plenty of time, or so I had thought.
The problem… was that I slept a bit too much.
I grabbed the coat tossed over the bed and put it on in a hurry while adjusting the strap of my bag over my shoulder, checking if I hadn't forgotten anything important. I gave the room one last quick glance, more out of habit than necessity, before leaving.
Click.
The sound of the door closing echoed through the silent dormitory corridor as I hurried forward.
"I think she won't kill me, right?"
✦☀✦──────────────────────⚔──────────────────────✦☾✦
After taking transportation and wandering through the ridiculously massive campus for a few minutes, I finally found myself in front of the best dormitory at Lock.
The place reserved for the academy's brightest students.
Melissa lived there. Or rather, in the annex building to the right of the main dormitory. A massive laboratory with an embedded bedroom, designed far more for research than comfort.
As soon as I passed through the double doors at the entrance, I felt the immediate relief of air conditioning, sharply contrasting with the suffocating heat outside.
At the back of the lobby, behind the reception desk, I spotted a familiar face.
Rosie… the same receptionist who had attended me last time.
She frowned the exact second she saw me. When I approached, it was clear her mood was already sour.
"What do you want?" she asked curtly.
Definitely not ideal customer service… but whatever.
"I have an appointment with Melissa…"
Normally, Rosie would be suspicious of anyone who said that. But considering the last experience, she simply picked up the phone and dialed a number to confirm.
A few seconds later, her expression darkened even more, as if she had heard something unpleasant. She slammed the phone back onto the receiver, grabbed a silver card, and tossed it in my direction.
"Third floor. Laboratory 303."
I watched the silver card in midair before catching it. It looked like an access card, probably specific to that lab. I slipped it into my pocket.
"Alright… thanks!"
She waved impatiently for me to leave. I complied, heading toward the elevator at the back of the hall. The doors opened with a clean mechanical sound.
I pressed the button for the third floor and waited, distracted, thinking about life. More specifically, about an ocarina song I had been practicing lately.
Ding.
The sound snapped me out of my thoughts as the doors opened, revealing a long, pristine white corridor. Along the sides, several doors with futuristic handles lined up in almost surgical order.
301…
302…
Ah… here it is. 303.
Beside the door was a locking mechanism resembling a card reader. Without much thought, I swiped the silver card.
Beep.
Fwoosh.
The door opened automatically, revealing the entrance to a massive white laboratory. Metal workbenches, equipment whose names I couldn't even begin to guess, flasks and tubes everywhere. A faint chemical scent lingered in the air.
But all it took was turning my head to feel a chill run down my spine.
A figure was staring down at me.
Arms crossed, one foot tapping the floor in a slow, irritated rhythm. Bright green eyes,[1] behind thin-framed glasses, crackled with pure impatience.
Melissa wore a turtleneck sweater beneath an impeccably clean white lab coat. Even so, her mood was nowhere near as organized as her appearance.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" she asked coldly.
"Good afternoon to you too, Melissa," I replied, closing the door behind me.
She sighed, wearing the expression of someone seriously reconsidering their life choices.
"Arff… I don't know who you think I am, but understand this. My time is precious."
She paused briefly, her face growing even more serious.
"If you're five seconds late next time, consider the deal canceled."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and gestured for me to follow.
I looked around, slightly lost. The lab was even bigger than I imagined. Long metal benches, glass cabinets filled with hand-labeled bottles, alchemical circles engraved directly into the floor, and a blackboard completely covered in formulas I hadn't had time to decipher yet.
Melissa stopped in front of a cabinet and pulled something out. Without even looking back, she tossed it toward me.
Thud.
I caught the object by reflex.
"What's this?"
"Protective equipment, idiot."
She turned around, crossing her arms once more.
"I don't want to hear you crying later after burning yourself with some chemical reagent."
I unfolded the clothes. A white lab coat, visibly smaller than hers, a pair of gloves, and safety goggles.
"Put it on. Now."
I obeyed.
The problem was… the lab coat was big.
No, not big. Huge. At least for me.
When I slipped my arms in, the sleeves completely covered my hands. The fabric went almost down to my ankles, and the collar sagged crookedly to one side. The gloves only made it worse, with excess fingers folding over themselves.
I looked at myself.
I looked like a ghost made from a badly cut bedsheet.
"…Is it that bad?" I asked, trying to pull up the sleeves.
Melissa stared at me for a full two seconds.
…
Then she brought a hand to her forehead.
Tap.
"I must have kicked a cross in a past life…"
She muttered, one hand on her face, brow furrowed.
She approached with firm steps, dragged a chair over with her foot, and made me climb onto it. With zero delicacy, she began rolling up the lab coat sleeves. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Stay still," she ordered.
"I wasn't going to—"
"Quiet!"
She adjusted the collar, fastened the top buttons, and tugged the fabric back, doing her best to fix the fit. Then she took one of the gloves from my hand and started folding the fingers, reducing the excess.
Despite her striking beauty, up close I could smell ink, paper, and something slightly acidic. Probably the result of far too many hours spent in that lab.
When she finished, she took a step back, analyzing me.
"Done. Now you look…" she grimaced. "Less terrible."
I looked at my hands. Still too big, but usable.
"Thanks… I think."
"Don't thank me. Safety is the bare minimum. Alchemy doesn't forgive carelessness."
She returned to the main bench and lightly knocked her knuckles against the metal surface.
"Last chance to leave," she said without looking at me. "I'm not responsible if you get hurt during the process."
I swallowed.
"It'll be fine…"
She raised an eyebrow.
"We'll see."
Melissa took a deep breath, grabbed a piece of chalk, and turned to the blackboard.
"Very well, bedsheet ghost. Before you blow anything up… let's see if you at least understand why things explode."
And that was how the lesson began.
[1] To this day, I’m still a bit unsure about Melissa’s eye color, but I think I’ll keep it green, it feels like it suits her better.