The white-clad attendant walked ahead.
His footsteps were quiet.
Even though his shoes touched the corridor floor, they made almost no sound.
Students passed by, someone dropped a book,
and a professor’s voice leaked from far away, but only the space around him felt strangely thin.
I followed behind him.
I didn’t look back.
If I did, I felt like I would see Rine’s face.
The face that had tried to stop me even as her fingertips trembled.
The face that couldn’t say it would be all right, and only kept saying no instead.
Annoying.
She really wore people out.
“Student Valter.”
The white-clad attendant spoke without turning.
“Yes.”
“Where did you learn resonance assistance?”
“In class.”
“That material is not yet part of the official curriculum.”
“Then I must have studied ahead.”
He smiled.
“You study diligently.”
“That sounds obnoxious.”
“That was not my intention.”
I didn’t answer and looked toward the end of the corridor.
It was a path leading down the stairs.
It wasn’t the inner staircase I had seen before.
Instead, it was an auxiliary corridor sometimes used by students from the sanctuary side.
Small lamps hung on the wall at regular intervals.
They were lit even though it was daytime.
The windows were small, so little light came in.
The smell had changed too.
Dried grass.
Wet cloth.
Oil.
And a very faint sweet smell.
It was similar to the smell Mia had mentioned.
She said it had been covered up.
I clenched and unclenched my fingertips once.
Resonance assistance.
A function that substituted a judgment requiring two sacred art users
with one sacred art user and one mana medium.
I can’t use sacred arts.
Instead, I can open my mana like a passage
and forcibly push up the lacking parts of the sacred art output.
In the game, it was just one button.
Select support.
Consume mana.
Raise success rate.
Done.
How kind.
Not here.
The mana gauge doesn’t show up as numbers,
and the failure rate doesn’t appear in a window either.
I’ll find out.
Not that I particularly want to.
The white-clad attendant stopped before a small door at the end of the corridor.
The nameplate read Calming Room.
The letters were neat, and the doorknob shone as if it was wiped often.
He opened the door.
The inside was less like a calming room and more like a washing room.
One bed.
A few folded white cloths.
A water bucket.
A box of herbs.
Thin metal tools hanging on the wall.
One side of the floor was wet, as if it had just been wiped.
Watermarks stretched long toward the window,
and at the end of them lay a piece of dry cloth.
As I entered the room, I looked at the clipboard.
It was hanging right beside the door.
There was no name.
Instead, a single small red dot had been marked on it.
A thin curtain had been set up deeper inside the room.
Beyond the curtain, I could see the silhouette of someone sitting.
Their face wasn’t visible.
Only below the knees and the tips of their shoes could be seen faintly.
They were student shoes.
Clean.
The white-clad attendant said,
“You may sit here.”
“What’s that student’s name?”
“Stabilizing their condition comes first.”
“Will their condition get worse if you tell me their name first?”
The white-clad attendant smiled.
“It is difficult to disclose due to procedure.”
I didn’t sit in the chair and swept my eyes around the room once more.
The bedsheet was white.
There were no stains.
But on the inside of the bed leg, there were thin marks like scratches from fingernails.
There were also faint friction marks left on the floor beneath the curtain.
It seemed someone hadn’t just calmly stabilized here.
The door opened again.
This time, another person entered.
He was a little older.
His way of speaking was slower than the white-clad attendant’s, and his hands were cleaner too.
The smell of medicine was soaked beneath his fingernails.
He bowed his head when he saw me.
“Student Valter.”
“Yes.”
“I heard you volunteered for resonance assistance.”
“Because your side was trying to take someone away.”
“Miss Rine’s sacred art is suited for stabilization support.”
“I know.”
“And Student Valter is not a sacred art user.”
“I know that too.”
The practitioner looked at me for a moment.
Those eyes were more unpleasant than the white-clad attendant’s.
He had a gentle face,
but eyes that did not see people as people.
Eyes checking whether the tool in his hand fit well.
He placed a small metal plate on the desk.
It was the size of a palm.
Its surface was smooth,
and thin grooves were carved along the edges.
I looked at it.
It resembled the resonance plate I had seen in the game.
So far, this was correct.
The practitioner said,
“Please place your palm on it.
We will conduct the sacred art from this side.
Student Valter, you need only open the flow.”
“Simple.”
“It is not difficult.”
The white-clad attendant stood beside the desk.
In his hand was a red thread.
It was very thin.
Just the right length to wrap around a wrist.
I saw it and laughed.
“What’s that?”
“A restraint to prevent shaking.”
“Was wrist restraint necessary for resonance assistance?”
The white-clad attendant’s smile stopped for a very brief moment.
Truly only for a moment.
But I saw it.
The practitioner also glanced once at the white-clad attendant.
Pretending not to know, I added,
“I think the textbook taught it with the palm. Roughly.”
I had never seen any textbook.
I had seen game tooltips and logs.
But I couldn’t say that here.
The practitioner spoke gently.
“In theory, palm contact alone is sufficient.”
“Then let’s do it by the theory.”
“If you become tense, the flow may waver.”
“I’m not tense.”
The white-clad attendant said,
“It is a safety device.”
“There are too many safety devices for stabilization support.”
The room went quiet for a moment.
A small breath could be heard beyond the curtain.
The white-clad attendant set the red thread down on the right side of the desk.
He hadn’t completely put it away.
It was close enough to reach if he only stretched out his hand.
Meaning he intended to use it again later.
I sat in the chair.
I placed my palm on the metal plate.
It was cold.
Colder than I expected.
The inside of my palm immediately went numb.
It didn’t feel like being pricked by needles.
Sensation slowly withdrew, like when you keep your hand in cold water for a long time.
The practitioner raised his hand toward the curtain.
White light bloomed.
It was the light of sacred arts.
Clean.
So clean it made me feel unpleasant instead.
The student beyond the curtain took in a small breath.
The white light flowed toward them,
and the groove beneath the metal plate shone very faintly.
Then my mana drained away.
At first, it was nothing much.
About like a single drop of water falling from my palm.
After that, it felt as if someone were tugging at the inside of my wrist with a thin thread.
I slowly exhaled.
In the game, the mana gauge went down.
Here, my fingertips tell me first.
The practitioner said,
“Good.
Please open it just a little more.”
“I already opened it.”
“The flow is shallow.”
“It’s my first time.”
“That is fine. Just a little more.”
I relaxed the strength in my palm.
Then I felt the metal plate grip my hand more tightly.
It wasn’t actually gripping me.
If I wanted to pull my hand away, I probably could.
Probably.
I looked beneath the curtain.
I could see the student’s toes.
Their shoes were polished,
and the laces were neatly tied.
But there was a very small amount of red powder on the inside of the shoelace.
It resembled the powder that had fallen from the burned thread.
The practitioner’s voice continued.
“I will adjust the output.”
The light grew a little stronger.
The sensation in my fingertips grew more distant.
I bit the inside of my mouth.
It hurt.
At that moment, a black line briefly caught at the edge of my vision.
It wasn’t on the metal plate.
It was at the left corner of the metal plate.
And in the wet watermarks on the floor beneath the desk.
I didn’t yank my hand away.
If I did, the black line seemed like it would bite immediately.
Instead, I slowed my breath once.
I slowed the mana flow along with it.
The white light wavered.
The practitioner noticed at once.
“The flow is wavering.”
“It’s my first time.”
“Keep your breathing steady.”
“I’m trying.”
It wasn’t a lie.
I was trying to make it unsteady.
The practitioner raised the output again.
This time, it was more blatant.
The grooves of the metal plate brightened a little more,
and something warm rose from beneath my palm.
It was warm, yet cold.
A strange sensation.
I slowed the flow a second time.
This time, a little more greatly.
The metal plate trembled faintly.
The water inside the cup on the desk rippled in a circle.
The student beyond the curtain swallowed a breath.
The white-clad attendant stepped closer.
“I will secure your hand.”
Of course.
Without pulling my hand away, I struck the corner of the desk with my elbow.
Clang.
The metal plate didn’t come completely loose.
Instead, its position shifted crookedly.
My palm slid with it, and the white light shook violently once.
For the first time, the practitioner’s expression crumbled.
“Do not move.”
“The medium is bouncing.”
“Your hand—”
“Don’t touch me.”
My voice came out lower than I expected.
The white-clad attendant’s hand stopped.
I breathed in short, rough bursts.
Half acting, half real.
The sensation in my palm still hadn’t returned.
Then a knock came from outside the door.
Tap.
Just once.
The white-clad attendant looked toward the door.
“We are currently in the middle of a stabilization procedure.”
A low voice came from beyond the door.
“The dean of student affairs is looking for Student Valter.”
It was Leona.
The air in the room changed very slightly.
Dean of student affairs.
Whether it was true or not didn’t matter.
What mattered was that the name had been spoken in this room right now.
The white-clad attendant’s smile returned to his face.
“We will send him once the procedure is complete.”
Leona’s words were brief.
“If there is a delay, I will leave the reason on record.”
Reason.
At that word, the practitioner’s hand stopped.
The white-clad attendant was silent for a moment, then turned his head.
“That will be all for today.”
The practitioner lowered his hand.
The white light slowly went out, and the light of the metal plate died with it.
I took my hand off the metal plate.
A mark from the plate remained on the inside of my palm.
It had been faintly pressed in the shape of the grooves along the edge.
And a very small amount of red powder was caught between the lines of my palm.
I immediately clenched my hand.
The practitioner’s gaze moved toward my hand.
“Are you uncomfortable?”
“It’s numb.”
“It is temporary.”
“Can I trust that?”
“In most cases, yes.”
Most.
What a nice phrase.
I rose from my seat.
I looked once more beneath the curtain.
The student’s toes moved very slightly.
Then a small voice was heard.
“I’m… all right.”
My steps stopped.
It wasn’t Rine’s voice.
Not at all.
I’m all right.
Even here, it was those words.
I didn’t look toward the curtain.
The white-clad attendant opened the door.
Leona was standing outside.
I stepped out of the room.
When the door closed and the smell of the corridor grew a little fainter, I asked,
“Is the dean of student affairs really looking for me?”
“No.”
That was fast.
I swallowed a hollow laugh.
“You lie very confidently.”
“It was necessary.”
“Did your master tell you to?”
“She said it was a name that could be used if trouble arose.”
Just like Serena.
She didn’t have the power to overturn the board herself,
so she only threw out a name that made it look as if the board might flip.
“Does this dean of student affairs know their name is being sold?”
“I suspect not.”
“What excellent ducal house etiquette.”
“I will relay that.”
“Don’t.”
“I have already memorized it.”
These people were seriously exhausting.
I clenched my hand harder.
Leona’s gaze touched my hand for a very brief moment.
“Is your hand all right?”
“Did the dean of student affairs tell you to ask that too?”
“That is my own judgment.”
“Everyone sure loves making judgments.”
At the end of the corridor, I saw Mia.
She was waiting with her back against the wall.
She didn’t run over.
Instead, the tip of her nose was already moving.
The moment she came almost all the way to me, Mia stopped.
Her gaze was fixed on my hand.
“Senior.”
“What?”
Mia’s ears lowered.
“There’s something on it.”
I clenched my hand harder.
I couldn’t feel the powder caught between the lines of my palm being pressed.
It was too small to detect by touch.
But Mia was seeing it.
No, smelling it.
Leona’s gaze also touched my hand.
“What is on it?”
“That’s what I’d like to ask.”
Mia wrinkled the tip of her nose.
“It’s different from the smell in that room.”
“And if it’s different?”
“Thinner.”
Great.
Starting with something hard to understand.
I looked behind me. The door to the calming room was closed.
The white-clad attendant had not come out.
But there was more than enough chance someone inside was listening.
We shouldn’t talk here for long.
“Talk while we walk.”
Mia nodded right away.
Leona did not follow.
Instead, he took one step to the side.
It looked as if he was making way.
“The route to the Dean of Students is not this way.”
“You said there wasn’t one.”
“Even so, it isn’t this way.”
“What’s there?”
“The possibility of being caught again.”
His words were terribly dry.
It annoyed me even more because he was right.
I walked down the opposite corridor with Mia.
Mia followed three steps behind me.
Normally, she would have stuck right beside me,
but now she was deliberately keeping her distance.
It seemed she was avoiding letting the scents mix.
“Water.”
Mia spoke.
“What?”
“Don’t wash.”
I started to look toward where the sink was, then stopped.
“Why?”
“I think it’ll spread.”
“In water?”
“Yeah.”
Mia looked at my hand.
“It smells like wet cloth.”
At those words, my palm felt even more uncomfortable.
“I wonder where Erka is.”
When I said that, Mia’s ears rose slightly.
“Experiment building.”
“She’s there?”
“Yeah.”
“By smell?”
“Yeah.”
That’s convenient.
And frightening.
The path to the experiment building was quieter than the main building.
But since it was between classes, it wasn’t completely empty.
A few students passed by carrying metal boxes,
and one professor’s assistant was carrying a broken glass bottle wrapped in cloth.
I didn’t put my hand in my pocket.
If it got on the inside of my pocket, it would be even more troublesome.
I just walked with my fist clenched.
Mia said in a low voice,
“The smell’s getting stronger.”
“My hand?”
“Yeah.”
“Because I’m moving?”
“Probably.”
“Probably doesn’t sound like you.”
“Because I don’t know.”
I liked her honesty.
The situation was not good.
When we arrived in front of the experiment building door,
the sound of metal scraping came from inside.
It was the room Erka was in.
I pushed the door with the tip of my foot.
Creeeak.
The door opened.
Erka, inside, spoke without even lifting her head.
“Doors are things you open with your hands.”
“I don’t think I should be using my hands right now.”
Only then did Erka raise her head.
Her gaze passed over my face and dropped to my hand.
Her brows immediately furrowed.
“Again?”
“I haven’t even explained yet.”
“Your hand is explaining for you.”
“Smart.”
“Don’t compliment me. It makes me uneasy.”
Erka stood up and moved the water bottle sitting on the table.
The fact that she moved it before I even looked at it meant her judgment was quick.
“It can’t touch water, right?”
Mia nodded.
“Yeah. It’ll spread.”
Erka swallowed a short curse.
“I really hate this.”
“It’s not like I came because I wanted to.”
“I know.
You always bring things you hate.”
She was right, so I didn’t argue.
Erka took a glass plate and a pair of thin tweezers from the cabinet.
Then she picked up a dry cloth, only to put it back down.
“Not cloth either?”
“Not for now.
If it gets on it, that’s the end.”
“Then?”
“Open your hand.
Don’t rub it. Don’t force it open either.”
“That’s a lot of instructions just to open a hand.”
“Your hand is in a state that requires a lot of instructions right now.”
I slowly opened my hand.
The mark of the metal plate remained on the edge of my palm.
Faint lines pressed in the shape of the grooves curved across it,
and a very small amount of red powder was caught between the creases of my palm.
At a glance, it looked like dust.
Under the lamplight, it wasn’t.
It glowed, ever so faintly.
Erka’s face hardened further.
“This is similar to the powder from last time.”
“When the thread burned?”
“Yes. But it’s finer.
And it’s stuck more firmly.”
“Not a good difference, I’m guessing.”
“If it were a good difference, would I be making this face?”
Erka placed the glass plate under my hand.
“Touch it lightly.
Like you’re stamping it. Don’t rub.”
I pressed my palm very lightly against the glass plate, then lifted it away.
Some of the powder transferred to the glass plate.
Not all of it.
More remained inside the creases of my palm.
Erka touched the powder on the glass plate with the tip of the tweezers.
The powder did not scatter like ash.
It flattened thinly, then clung to the glass plate.
“This isn’t ash.”
“A mark?”
“It’s closer to that.”
“I don’t like ‘closer’ either.”
“We don’t have time to confirm it.”
Erka brought the lamp a little closer.
At that moment, the red powder on the glass plate spread very thinly.
Its color didn’t brighten; it stretched out like lines.
As if it were trying to follow palm lines that weren’t on the glass plate.