The day after I was discharged, I was forced to return to the academy—no exceptions.
’Seriously? After nearly dying, they can’t cut a little slack?’
But in a world where magic could nd shattered bones overnight, apparently this counted as "fully recovered."
I sighed and walked into the classroom.
The whispering started imdiately.
"...Did you hear? Yesterday, Trash Lucien joined the princess and the ducal heirs in a hidden dungeon."
"They said he threw himself into a trap to protect them. That’s why he was sent back early."
Teacher Samantha had warned the academy would spread a safe narrative to avoid political trouble... but this was still surprising—
Until the rest ca in.
"I heard he held everyone back. A total burden. They had to protect him."
"No, no—he triggered the deadly trap himself. Got caught trying to run away alone."
"Ugh, classic trash."
"People don’t change. He’s proof."
Ah. There it was.
Nothing to gain.
Nothing to lose.
And yet their malice flowed effortlessly.
I knew it.
Even if Samantha kept out of political crossfire, rumors were sothing no one could control. Humans were irritatingly predictable—they felt safer when they could shove their insecurities onto soone else.
One rumor becos two.
Two becos four.
A donation turns into an "investnt."
An investnt turns into a "bribe."
Distortion was human nature.
Rumors always grow, twist, rot—
and people justify their hatred as if it were compassion.
Disgusting.
As their whispers swelled, I quietly prepared myself to endure a long day—
"Everyone, stop it."
The entire classroom froze.
Even I looked up.
Kael was standing, brows furrowed, voice steady.
"Talking badly about soone isn’t right."
Kael.
Of all people.
The protagonist—my supposed rival and the one I’d "wronged" the most in this world—was defending .
The class blinked in disbelief.
Bordon cleared his throat loudly.
"Y-Yeah, uh... what does it matter? Everyone’s safe, that’s important."
"R-Right..." Mariella quickly added, nodding.
Elisha and Celestia said nothing—but their silence alone held weight.
An awkward, suffocating atmosphere settled across the room.
Whispers died.
Eyes darted away.
At that mont, the door opened.
"You’re all quiet for once. Take your seats."
Teacher Samantha strode in, her presence slicing through the tension like a blade.
If she hadn’t walked in at that exact mont,
I wasn’t sure how far that strange, uncomfortable scene would have gone.
*****
[Imperial Academy Cafeteria]
"Haa..."
Bordon exhaled into his untouched lunch tray.
The cafeteria was unusually quiet.
Only soft lodies flowed from the mana speakers, blending with the distant clinking of cutlery. Almost no chatter. Not from this table, at least.
Kael.
Celestia.
Elisha.
Bordon.
Mariella.
The so-called "protagonist party."
All seated together.
All silent.
All avoiding each other’s eyes for the sa reason.
Finally—
"...About Lucien."
The mont Bordon spoke, the clinking around their table stopped.
Five pairs of eyes landed on him.
"Could he actually be a good guy...?" he muttered.
Silence.
It wasn’t disbelief—
it was the struggle of people whose entire understanding of soone was being overturned.
"That Dr. Eldric guy," Bordon continued, "he said Lucien was so holy inquisitor or sothing."
The skepticism was thick.
Elisha twirled her spoon, frowning.
"That doesn’t make sense. Lucien’s behavior at the start of the sester... that was real. He was practically dripping venom."
Celestia nodded quietly.
"We all felt it. That... obsessive hostility. That inferiority. It didn’t feel like an act."
Even Kael didn’t deny it.
He simply stared into his cooling soup, lips pressed thin.
"What even are these ’holy assassins’ and ’holy inquisitors,’ anyway?" Elisha snapped, flustered. "How can an assassin be holy?"
Bordon cleared his throat.
"...Actually, about that."
He reached into his coat and pulled out an old piece of parchnt—yellowed, worn, and stamped with the crest of his family.
"I wasn’t sure either. So last night, I asked my family archivist to search for records."
"Look at this. I borrowed it from my family archives."
On it was a symbol:
Two crossed guns, with the upper half of a hooded figure in white robe with golden patterns along the edges looming behind them.
The others leaned in.
"Honestly," Bordon said, "I don’t know if all of this is true. I’m just repeating what the records said."
He took a slow breath, then began:
"...It’s information about the Holy Empire. The one that vanished centuries ago."
Everyone’s expressions sharpened.
"The Holy Empire was once the largest, most influential force on the continent," Bordon said, voice low. "People believed the nation itself was blessed by a literal god."
"No one fell ill inside that empire. Not seriously, at least."
Celestia’s eyes widened slightly.
"A whole empire... without sickness?"
"And their clerics," Bordon continued, "could heal people even if they were at death’s door."
Mariella whispered, "...like miracles."
"Exactly. And saints—according to legends—they could even revive the dead."
Kael stiffened. That kind of power... was beyond comprehension.
"The highest authority was the Pope," Bordon went on. "Under him were the paladins—divine knights. Not soldiers. Warriors infused with holy power. A single battalion of theirs could level a kingdom."
Elisha swallowed.
"And the holy inquisitors," Bordon said, tapping the parchnt, "were agents who road the world, judging and eliminating evil. They were... executioners of divine law."
A heavy pause.
Everyone’s faces grew tense.
Because if Eldric mistook Lucien for such an existence—even for a mont—that ant sothing.
Finally, Elisha whispered the question sitting heavy in the air:
"...If that empire was so powerful... how did it get destroyed?"
Bordon’s expression darkened.
"They sacrificed," he said quietly.
The music in the cafeteria seed to fade.
"They gave up everything," he said. "Their land, their lives, their kingdom... all to stop an enemy no one else could."
Kael clenched his fists.
Celestia looked pale.
Elisha bit her lip.
Mariella covered her mouth in shock.
"And the inquisitors," Bordon finished, "were the last to fall."
Silence claid the table.
Because suddenly, Lucien—the boy they mocked, feared, or hated—
felt like a far bigger mystery than any of them were ready to confront.
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