Sunday had arrived again—and with it, Ethan’s weekly Dark Magic lesson with Lilith. After a quick bath, he stood before the mirror, carefully unwrapping the bandage from his head. For a moment, he hesitated—then exhaled in quiet relief.

  His vision was whole again.

  The missing part of his sight, that strange blind spot, was gone. Restored. The golden iris of his new half-demon eye gleamed back at him, a sharp contrast to his natural deep green one. It looked unsettling... but kind of cool.

  His inner chuuni let out a satisfied hum, only mildly disappointed. No cheat powers had awakened—no cursed insight or burning aura—but at least it looked awesome.

  "Now I just need to seal a demon in my left arm, throw on a dark cape, and get myself a crossbow," he muttered with a smirk, adjusting his colr in the mirror. "Then I’ll be unstoppable."

  With that, he grabbed his things and made his way to the infirmary. Lilith was already there, perched near the rune-inscribed chalkboard, her posture straight and theatrical. As always, they exchanged their overly dramatic greetings—his with exaggerated fir, hers with icy elegance. But even as she crossed her arms and tilted her chin upward, Ethan caught it: the flicker of worry behind her violet eyes. She was trying hard not to show it.

  Still, the act continued.

  “As a wise man once said,” Ethan thought, “the show must go on.”

  Lilith stepped forward with practiced authority, casting a shadow over him. “Now, Onii-chan,” she decred in her most commanding tone, “Show me your Dark Sonar!”

  That’s when the realization hit him. He hadn’t even tried it once since getting Ravyn’s tips.

  After everything that had happened, he hadn’t had time—or focus. He’d barely recovered. Now he was standing here, expected to produce results.

  According to Ravyn, switching from rune-by-rune spell construction to full-verse casting was a major hurdle. Most people took weeks to adapt. But he couldn’t back down now.

  Closing his eyes, Ethan inhaled slowly.

  A verse at a time.

  He broke down the spell’s structure like reciting poetry. Visual verse yers aligned in his mind—each tied to a cluster of runes. He stacked them, arranged them, and made sure the pieces matched. Then, with a breath, he opened his eyes and began channeling.

  His mana pulsed outward, shaky at first, but gaining momentum. His mind strained to keep up.

  First verse: Gather Miasma into a singurity.

  He traced the runes in one burst. Slower than usual. Slower than individual casting. All at once. A bit chaotic but the results were passable.

  Second verse: Increase pressure to breaking point.

  The words alone were ominous. The imagery even worse. The spell sounded like it would cause a destructive explosion—but the effect was harmless. A bit fshy maybe but that was all.

  Still, Ethan had to push aside the mental noise. No distractions. Focus.

  The second verse completed. Mana aligned. Runes stable.

  “Faster,” he urged himself. “Do it faster next time.”

  From across the room, Lilith watched intently, her arms folded but her expression rexed.

  A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

  So he hadn’t mastered it in a week after all.

  Seeing his clumsy attempt actually put her at ease. He was using the correct technique but his level of mastery was still cking. Maybe in another week he would do it, but for now, he still failed.

  Even a genius like her couldn’t master Dark Sonar in under a week. The fact he was the same was... a bit disapointing. But at the same time, reassuring.

  Since she was born, Lilith had been praised as a once-in-a-generation talent, a genius without equal. And that’s exactly what she believed—until about a month ago, when her grandfather started compining about a certain new student. Some reckless boy who didn’t know his limits and always pushed himself too hard. A cursed student whose body should’ve colpsed under the weight of what he carried. And yet, somehow... it hadn’t.

  For dark mages, curses were blessings. Each curse embedded in the body increased the production of Miasma—an essential fuel for Dark Magic that, unlike Mana, couldn’t be produced naturally by humans. Most dark mages carried no more than three curses, bancing power and survivability. What their bodies couldn’t generate, they supplemented with external sources like dark crystals or cursed artifacts.

  That was the standard.

  Ethan, however, was anything but standard.

  His body carried over six curses—eight if her grandfather's guess was correct—and somehow, he was still alive. Functioning. Casting. Training. That level of compatibility with Miasma wasn’t just rare; it was absurd. It meant his potential as a dark mage was frightening. Greater, even, than Lilith’s own—despite the five carefully selected curses she had carved into herself since childhood.

  But unlike her, who had been raised and trained from birth, he’d stumbled into this path by accident.

  A walking Miasma core, reckless and clueless.

  It was infuriating.

  And fascinating.

  Curious—and a bit excited—Lilith had begged go to the Adventurer Academy just for the chance of taking a gnce on the said student. Someone like his would certanly join their path. This was not just her prediction, this was fate! She was certain! Her grandfather allowed it, thinking it would be a nice experience for her, but with the condition she could only visit on weekends, when she didn't have any lectures pending in the Royal Academy.

  The first time she met Ethan, she recognized him right away. He was exactly as her grandfather described. And honestly? She was a bit disappointed. His appearance was pin, his presence forgettable. Not at all the image of a prodigy she’d imagined. But he was funny. And he didn’t flinch from her teasing. He pyed along. That left a stronger impression than she expected.

  Maybe that’s how having a friend was supposed to feel.

  Then came the shock—her grandfather assigned her as Ethan’s teacher.

  At first, she thought it was a joke.

  It wasn’t.

  Though she was more than qualified in theory and knowledge, Lilith had zero real experience teaching anyone. Even back at the Royal Academy, most of her peers avoided her like the pgue—intimidated by her status, unsettled by her reputation, or simply unsure how to deal with her. But despite her ck of practice, she took the role seriously. She expined the basics of Miasma as clearly as she could, breaking down each concept into manageable steps.

  And that was when she noticed it—Ethan was unnaturally sensitive to Miasma. It was the first prerequisite for any dark mage, and he passed it with flying colors. Clenching her fist in subtle triumph, she silently welcomed him to the fold as her newly acquired older brother. Whether he liked it or not, he was one of them now.

  In hindsight, this sensitivity made perfect sense. Given how many curses were embedded in his body, it was only natural. The more cursed someone was, the more Miasma they produced and absorbed—sharpening their affinity until their very body resonated with the energy. She hadn’t given it much thought at first, but once she connected the dots, it all fell into pce.

  As their first lesson came to a close, Lilith’s pyful streak took over. Just a small tease. A harmless trial.

  She assigned him a task that was, by all accounts, ridiculous for someone at his level: transfer Miasma from one dark crystal into another. A basic exercise for a novice dark mage, sure—but Ethan wasn’t even that yet. She had only just introduced him to the sensation of Miasma—barely taught him how to feel it, much less manipute it.

  It should’ve been impossible.

  And yet—One week passed, and he did it.

  He did it.

  How!?

  The question echoed inside her skull again and again, refusing to leave her alone. How did he do it!? What was his secret!? There was no technique she had taught, no shortcut he should’ve known. It shouldn’t have been possible.

  So there could be only one conclusion.

  If no human could do such a thing... then maybe Ethan wasn’t human.

  She racked her brain for possibilities. The only races she knew with that kind of innate sensitivity to Miasma were Demons and Dark Elves. Ethan clearly wasn’t a Dark Elf. His features, his aura, his mannerisms—none of it matched.

  Which left one possibility.

  He’s a Half-Demon. A disguised Half-Demon, hiding in pin sight at the Adventurer Academy.

  Her blood turned cold, but her heart beat wildly in fear and panic.

  Her grandfather had warned her again and again that Demons were dangerous. Even if she was a genius, she would be hard-pressed fighting against one. As for half-demons, in a way they were even more dangerous. Not because they were as strong as demons, but because they held little value to their lives, suiciding to inflict damage to their enemies without hesitation.

  What had she gotten herself into? What kind of danger was she sitting across from all this time? Unable to control herself, she left the infirmary in a hurry, throwing out the first excuse that came to her lips, and then came the most shameful experience she had in her life.

  Ah, the shame! If she could turn back time, she would sp herself. Why hadn’t she read her grandfather's note earlier? Why was she reading romance novels instead of preparing? Why did she call her grandfather for help the moment she panicked? Ugh! She wanted to erase that moment from existence!

  Once the misunderstanding had been solved, the show, once again, had to go on.

  The lessons continued. This time, it was rune instruction—dry, tedious, and unfortunately necessary. Every mage had to learn them. No shortcuts. No exceptions.

  Lilith remembered her own childhood clearly. She had dodged those lessons like they were cursed, using every excuse she could dream up to escape the monotony. Still, thanks to her perfect memory, it had been child's py. Just one hour a day, and in two months she had memorized the entire base set of runes. No pain. No real struggle.

  Ethan, on the other hand, had no such gift. His memory was good—better than average, even—but far from photographic. So she braced herself for a slow, drawn-out grind. A semester’s worth, maybe two. She sighed inwardly at the thought.

  But then, midway through the first session, Ethan changed everything.

  He made it into a game.

  At first, she was skeptical. Pying games during css? It sounded like an excuse to sck off. But then again... rune study really was boring, and a little flexibility wouldn't hurt. So, indulging him just this once, she agreed to his proposal.

  And it worked.

  A simple competitive game between the two of them—one-on-one, matching runes, using strange symbols and a foreign alphabet as a code—transformed a dull grind into something oddly engaging. With each round, Ethan grew faster, sharper. And to her surprise, Lilith found herself... enjoying it.

  The results spoke for themselves.

  By the end of that session, Ethan had absorbed more than she had expected him to learn in weeks. Her original six-month estimate shrank to three. At this pace, he would master the foundational runes within a few more weeks—more than enough to begin casting real Dark Magic.

  But spellcasting wasn’t his goal. No, his true focus was regaining control over the curses embedded in his body.

  So, when it came time to assign his next task, Lilith let her sadistic side take over.

  Instead of giving him an easy spell—something fshy and practical that he could cast right away—she handed him something ridiculous. An impossible spell. One that was far too advanced for his current level. But one that, if mastered, would serve him well ter.

  She hadn’t expected him to succeed. In fact, she was counting on him to fail.

  It was the perfect excuse to tease him. To needle him. To watch him flounder and squirm until he broke just enough to show a crack in that id-back mask.

  But deep down... she also wanted to see how far he could go.

  Then, this week arrived.

  She was zily making her way to the infirmary on Saturday, fully expecting another slow session—and the opportunity to mock his ck of progress—when she peeked through the doorway and froze.

  There he was.

  Unconscious on the infirmary bed. A thick bandage wrapped around his head, covering one eye.

  Panic surged through her.

  She didn’t even knock. She just turned and sprinted straight to her grandfather’s office.

  He expined everything calmly, like he always did: the reckless boy had tried to py the hero and paid the price. Broken bones. Blood loss. And worst of all—he’d lost his left eye. Her grandfather was searching for a compatible repcement.

  And just like that, a storm of emotions erupted inside her.

  Part of her wanted to praise him. He’d risked himself to protect someone. That was noble. Admirable.

  Another part wanted to throttle him. What was he thinking!? Throwing himself into danger without telling her? He was her student! How dare he get hurt without her permission!?

  And then came the fury. Not at him—but at the people who had done this. She wanted to curse them, tear them limb from limb.

  But... they were already dead. Killed by Ethan’s friend.

  There was no one left to punish.

  No one left to bme.

  Nothing left to hit.

  She clenched her fists, helpless.

  He was her student. She was supposed to protect him. Guide him. She wasn’t supposed to just sit there while he nearly died!

  And then... there was her. That girl sitting beside his bed.

  Who the hell was she!?

  He never said he had a girlfriend! Since when!? Who gave him permission to have one!? She certainly didn’t!

  Maybe she’d bring that up during his next scolding.

  Feeling completely out of pce, she’d left. Let the emotions settle.

  Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow he was hers. No rivals, no visitors, no interruptions. Just the two of them—teacher and student.

  Then she could vent all her frustration, under the convenient excuse that he still hadn’t mastered Dark Sonar.

  Which brought her back to the present.

  Wait...

  Was he getting faster?

  Her eyes narrowed, watching him carefully.

  Yes. He was definitely getting faster.

  If this kept up, he’d actually complete the spell if he tried once again!

  Wait—no! That wasn’t how this was supposed to go!

  If he succeeded, then what about her pent-up frustration!? Where was she supposed to put it!?

  Still, Ethan couldn’t read her heart. Not that he would’ve even noticed—right now, his entire world was consumed by the runes. The verses. The spell. Everything else had faded to the background.

  Bit by bit, he was getting a feel for it. The logic behind the structure, the rhythm of the verses, the delicate threading of Mana through the runes. His confidence swelled.

  Just one more time, he told himself. One more attempt, and this time, I’ll get it.

  “Tch! One more time. This time for sure!” he muttered under his breath.

  He focused everything he had. The lines of the spell unfolded in his mind like poetry. He divided it into verses, shaped his mana carefully, and drew each rune with increasing speed. One. Two. Three. His casting rhythm caught up with his thoughts and then overtook them.

  Yes! Just one st step!

  His fist clenched as he reached the final sequence. With a surge of triumph, he filled every rune with mana at once.

  ..........

  Nothing happened.

  He blinked. "What?"

  From the side, Lilith stared bnkly at him for a moment—before suddenly bursting into ughter. A sharp, delighted, and completely unrestrained ugh.

  “You complete idiot!” she cackled. “You tried to fuel a Dark Magic spell with mana? Have you gone crazy or what!?”

  Ethan’s ears turned crimson as the heat of shame climbed up his neck. His whole face flushed red. He’d done everything right... up until the st damn step. He had messed up. Badly.

  Before he could even speak, Lilith cut in, still grinning ear to ear.

  “Well, that’s a fail, isn’t it? I’ll take that as your formal surrender.”

  “Wait, just give me one more—”

  “Nope!” she snapped, gleefully cutting him off. “No second chances for silly boys who forget the core requirement of the spell type they’re casting! Accept your punishment with what little dignity you have left!”

  Ethan groaned. “Fine... what do I have to do?”

  Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Buy me shaved ice.”

  “What!?”

  She stepped closer, enjoying every second of this. “You heard me. Shaved. Ice. Are you deaf now too, or just stupid today?”

  “Seriously...?”

  “Move it, sve!” she barked with theatrical cruelty, pointing toward the door. “You failed, and now you pay. How long do you pn to keep your gracious teacher waiting? My mouth is dry! My patience is thinner than your excuses!”

  Ethan sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Why do I feel like you were looking forward to this?”

  “Oh, I have no idea what you are talking about!” she said with a smirk. “Now go. The longer you take, the colder my smile gets.”

  “So, Onii-chan,” Lilith began with a smirk, scooping a delicate spoonful of shaved ice and letting it melt slowly on her tongue. “Who told you about verses? I thought this shitty academy didn’t teach those until second year.”

  Her voice dripped with mocking amusement, the kind that sounded innocent to anyone listening—but to Ethan, it felt like she was sharpening a knife with every word.

  “It was Ravyn,” Ethan replied, trying to stay casual. “A friend from the Mage css.”

  Lilith’s spoon paused mid-air. Her eyes slid toward him, and her smirk widened. “Hmm... a girl, right?”

  “Eh? Yeah. As I said, a friend.”

  “A friend, huh?” she echoed, dragging the word out pyfully. “Hmm~”

  Ethan already regretted answering.

  “She’s on Daniel’s team for the upcoming tournament,” he added quickly. “He’s one of my close friends. I just know her through him.”

  “I see…” Lilith purred, finally taking another bite of ice, the sound of the spoon tapping the gss cup louder than it should’ve been.

  She didn't let the matter go. Of course not.

  “Well, she taught you correctly,” she said sweetly, with that same glint in her eyes that always meant trouble. “I was really looking forward to watching you crash and burn today. It would’ve been the perfect chance to dramatically unveil the truth about verses, like the gracious teacher I am.”

  Another bite. Another smirk.

  “But nooo~ This girl had to swoop in and ruin it. She stole my moment,” Lilith added, her tone darkening slightly, though her expression remained disturbingly cheerful.

  Ethan sat stiffly across from her, silently bracing for impact.

  “When we meet at the tournament two weeks from now,” she continued, licking her spoon slowly, “make sure you introduce her to me.”

  Her smile was too wide. Too calm. Too full of sadistic promise.

  “I’ve got to repay my debts, after all.”

  The way she said it sent a chill crawling straight down Ethan’s spine. He could already see it—Ravyn’s cold stare locking horns with Lilith’s sadistic grin in a csh of magical titans.

  “Sure,” he said weakly, nodding. “Yeah. I’ll... make sure that happens.”

  And silently, he prayed to every god he knew that the two of them would never meet.

  “That said, we’ve already wasted too much time,” Lilith decred, brushing her hands off as she took the st bite of her dessert and set the empty cup aside with an elegant clink. “Onii-chan, take out your game. Let’s learn some more runes!”

  “Right away!” Ethan replied, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

  He wasn’t about to let her keep circling back to the Ravyn topic, and this was his best shot at steering the conversation elsewhere. No way was he going to let her build a detailed torture pn for someone he actually liked.

  He quickly pulled out the now well-worn rune game and set it on the table, organizing the pieces with practiced speed. Lilith leaned in with an expectant smile, that glint of competition already back in her eyes.

  The game started as usual—adding 48 new runes to the board, the game started with head-to-head rounds, matching meanings, second meanings, hidden traps, and cheeky distractions.

  With so many already in py, it was becoming difficult to fit them all on the table. The neat lines were now sprawling into yered stacks and chaotic clusters. Ethan knew the day was coming soon—he’d have to start repcing older sets instead of just adding more.

  Still, the game carried on, both of them focused, pieces clicking against wood as knowledge disguised as competition lit up the room.

  And as the lesson came to an end, Lilith leaned back with a casual air and said, “Oh, and Onii-chan—you might want to wear an eyepatch over that half-demon eye of yours. Just to avoid... misunderstandings in town.”

  Ethan blinked. An eyepatch?

  He pictured it for a second. The golden demon eye. His already suspicious heterochromia. Add an eyepatch to the mix and—yeah. That was it. He’d never be able to leave his room again.

  It’s already chūni enough having mismatched eyes... If I wear an eyepatch too, I’ll basically be a walking light novel protagonist.

  Still, there was no way he could say that out loud. Not to the chūni princess herself, sitting across from him looking way too pleased with her suggestion.

  So, instead, he just nodded politely and said, “I’ll consider it.”

  Lilith grinned, clearly convinced he would. Ethan groaned internally. This was going to come back to haunt him. He could feel it.