That evening, Rein walked out of the shop with a brand-new pair of boots—430 AC, courtesy of Mira’s relentless bargaining, shaved down from 450.

  The dent in his balance stung a little, but the solid weight under his feet felt far better than walking around with holes gaping through the soles.

  “If you go too cheap on boots, you’ll just end up limping from blisters,” Mira said firmly after watching him pace in careful circles around the shop. “Four-thirty is the sweet spot. Trust me.”

  “Yeah… still within budget,” Rein muttered.

  He tapped his gold card to pay, then left the ruined old pair behind without a second glance.

  Or maybe the shopkeeper knocked off twenty AC just to get those things out of his sight.

  Either way, he no longer had to count every single coin the way he had during his first days in DVM.

  After leaving the shop, the three made their way into the Kingdom District, the bustling gateway that marked the front of Arcadia Academy.

  The place buzzed with life—shops packed shoulder to shoulder, voices overlapping in constant motion. It was less an academy district than a city that refused to sleep.

  As he walked, Rein found his thoughts drifting back to earlier that day—to his first ride on Arcadia’s magical tram.

  The vehicle itself looked like something pulled straight out of the Industrial Revolution: hardwood frames reinforced with steel, seating about twenty passengers per car. The one Rein had boarded ran three cars long, old, and faintly mystical.

  The fare—5 AC—was a small price to avoid walking over ten kilometers on foot.

  What held his attention wasn’t the scenery outside the windows, but the system that moved the tram.

  Runes were embedded along the iron rails—linear-vector mana circuits, stabilizing direction and feeding propulsion forward. Beneath the carriage, a low mechanical hum betrayed the conversion of mana from control-crystal to raw rotational force at the axles.

  Centralized mana structure, Rein noted as the car rattled along.

  No filtering at all. That resonance explains the vibration.

  Crude.

  Which meant someone had already crossed the line from theory to practice.

  As the tram crossed district after district, Rein began to grasp the sheer scale of Arcadia.

  Even from the windows, the distance—over fifteen kilometers—made one thing clear: this wasn’t merely an academy. It was a self-contained city built around magic.

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to explore. Evening plans awaited.

  Arath eased gracefully into dusk. The sun dipped below the horizon, washing the world in brick-orange and deep violet, as if a painter had lost all restraint.

  For once, Rein didn’t calculate anything. Just simply watched.

  Seated on the tram, swaying gently with its clatter, he glanced down at his new boots and tapped one against the wooden floor.

  Then—unbidden—a melody surfaced in his head.

  Maybe…

  you’re gonna be the one that saves me.

  The chorus of an old Oasis song looped quietly in his thoughts.

  Apart from LIZ—who wore the face of Alicia, the woman he loved—only music from his old world still followed him like this. A needle stuck in a groove, spinning whenever reality became too strange to process.

  Even though Rein’s consciousness had fused almost seamlessly with fragments of the original Rein’s memories, he could still feel it—the hairline fracture underneath.

  Like watching life from the wrong side of the glass.

  A presence layered over a body that hadn’t started as his. And these songs were the last anchors keeping him from drifting away entirely.

  Each tram station rose like a towering dome. Massive mana circuits crisscrossed their ceilings, functioning as colossal charging arrays—replenishing the crystals beneath every tram as it docked.

  What changed most along the route wasn’t the infrastructure, but the atmosphere.

  Kingdom Station overflowed with noise and commerce, stalls crowding the platforms.

  Victory Station—the gateway to DVM—was another world entirely.

  White marble floors etched with gold reflected the glow of mana lamps. Voices were hushed. Passengers wore dark, meticulously tailored robes.

  Order. Precision. Cold elegance.

  After more than forty minutes of travel, the three stepped onto Victory Station’s platform. Night had fully fallen, guided only by mana lanterns lining the path toward the DVM buildings perched on the hill.

  As they walked, Boris checked his pocket-watch—mana gears turning with a soft click.

  “About thirty minutes,” he said. “Let’s split up. Freshen up, change if you need to. Meet at the rear connector entrance.”

  “Got it!” Mira replied immediately, arms full of shopping bags as she dashed inside the building.

  Rein paused at the doorway, glanced down at his boots now lightly dusted from the walk, exhaled, and followed Boris in.

  He changed into a spare robe, washed up, and did his best to tame hair that refused to cooperate.

  Outside, the temperature dropped faster than expected. Blue-tinted mana lamps replaced sunlight, casting the stone corridors in solemn, imposing hues.

  Boris and Mira were already waiting at the rear exit of Devil’s Den—the passage leading into the wilderness beyond the academy.

  The path to the Beyond the Enigma Society cut straight through an ancient pine forest. Cold air thickened into drifting fog, sliding low along the ground like something alive.

  Boris cast Flare, conjuring a floating orb of pale light. It scattered against the mist, limiting visibility to a few dozen feet.

  They moved in single file—Boris in front, Mira in the middle, Rein bringing up the rear.

  “Hope this party doesn’t run long,” Mira whispered. “We’ve got four hours. If the rear gate seals on schedule, we’re sleeping outside.”

  Rein said nothing. He pulled his cloak tighter against the cold and stepped across dry pine needles that crackled in the silence of the forest.

  The night swallowed the sound.

  “I still don’t get it,” Rein muttered. “Why put a club all the way out here?”

  His voice was low, half-drowned by fatigue. His eyes followed Boris’s back as the older boy led the way through the misty forest path.

  Now, Rein didn’t want mystery. He only wanted food, polite words, and a warm bed.

  That quiet hope didn’t last.

  “Hey… have you ever heard the story about the Lycan in this forest?”

  Mira’s voice cut through the silence.

  It sounded different—rougher. A little unsteady.

  She conjured a small Flare beneath her chin. The pale glow threw shadows upward across her face, twisting her features into something that looked borrowed from a horror novel.

  “They say he was once a prodigy. A genius mage who pushed his experiments too far.”

  Her eyes flicked toward the darkness between the pines.

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  “The mana went berserk. Ate away what made him human.”

  She swallowed.

  “On nights of the full moon, he hunts here. And whenever a mage wanders into his territory…”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  “…all that’s left are bones beneath those fangs.”

  She dragged the story out deliberately, then turned sharply toward Rein—clearly hoping for a reaction.

  She didn’t get one.

  Rein kept walking. Same pace. Same posture. His expression was blank, like someone running a background process and waiting for it to finish.

  That makes… what? The seventh urban legend this month?

  If we’re counting the “first-year who broke Corvus topology,” anyway.

  Mira pressed her lips together, visibly annoyed.

  “Tch. You guys are impossible,” she muttered, turning back around. “So boring it hurts.”

  Rein exhaled quietly.

  Boring?

  His gaze dropped to the shadow stretching ahead of him on the forest floor.

  I’ve almost died twice this month alone. How exciting does life need to be?

  He stopped.

  Ahead—half-swallowed by fog—stood a structure.

  A single-story wooden cabin, weather-beaten, crouched among the pines. The wood had darkened with age, moss clinging to the beams, dry vines wrapping the walls like dead veins. The porch creaked softly as the wind passed through.

  Rein’s eyes snapped upward.

  Something dark perched along the edge of the roof.

  A bird—

  or something close enough.

  Its eyes caught Boris’s Flare, glinting for a brief second before it spread its wings. A low, unfamiliar cry cut through the mist, and then it was gone—vanishing into the clouds above the treetops.

  “…Was that a mana owl?” Mira whispered, edging closer to Boris.

  “Probably just one of the club’s old familiars,” Boris shrugged, tapping the porch rail. “Look at this place. You told me it was haunted, I’d believe you.”

  The front door creaked open.

  Kellen stepped out, smiling, raising a hand in greeting—

  Snap.

  The world skipped.

  For a fraction of a second, everything froze.

  The door was closed and opened again, and something in Rein’s chest tightened.

  It wasn’t just familiar—it was exact.

  As if the moment had replayed itself.

  Again?

  Rein’s pulse kicked sharply.

  The drowsiness evaporated, replaced by cold alertness. He reached inward immediately.

  LIZ. Did you see that?

  A translucent interface flickered into existence—visible only to him.

  [LIZ: I detected no external anomaly. However, repeated déjà vu within a short interval is statistically unlikely.]

  [LIZ: This aligns with the ‘glitch’ patterns I warned you about. If occurrences increase, it may indicate interference affecting local space-time.]

  Interference…

  “Rein? What are you spacing out for?” Mira called. “Come on—Kellen’s waiting.”

  Rein looked at Kellen again.

  The smile was ordinary. Friendly.

  And now—faintly wrong.

  Like a hairline crack running through something that pretended to be smooth.

  So it’s not just the food after all…

  He stepped forward.

  Deliberately.

  Same stride, weight, and timing as the image burned into his memory. As if nothing unusual had happened at all.

  Beyond the Enigma Society…

  Yeah. That name might be more accurate than I expected.

  The moment he crossed the threshold, the space inside pressed back against his senses.

  Too wide.

  Too clean.

  The interior stretched far beyond what the cabin’s exterior should have allowed. The narrow walls gave way to a spacious, well-kept lounge. No dust. No cobwebs. Everything here was maintained.

  Warm orange light spilled from oil lamps and candles, replacing the sterile blue-white glow of mana lamps. The scent of burning wood and lamp oil stirred something old—memories of camp lodges, long before mana realms and corrupted physics.

  A large wooden table stood at the center, laid out with food. Nothing extravagant. Just… right.

  Four students were already inside. Two girls chatted quietly on a leather sofa near the fireplace. A tall boy stood by the window, staring into the fog with a watchfulness that didn’t quite fit a party.

  And then there was the chalkboard.

  Rein’s eyes narrowed.

  The diagram scrawled across it wasn’t standard spellwork.

  It was Corvus topology.

  His Corvus topology—the same adjusted structure he’d finalized that morning.

  Every line. Every junction. They were dissecting him.

  “…Welcome to Beyond the Enigma,” Kellen said cheerfully from behind him.

  Boris and Mira were already eyeing the food, blissfully unaware.

  Rein felt it immediately.

  The space wasn’t wrong.

  It was folded.

  Non-Euclidean, his mind supplied quietly.

  Expanded. Cleanly executed.

  “Inside here…” he murmured—then stopped.

  Kellen, who had just closed the door behind them, overheard Rein’s muttered remark. He broke into a wide grin and hurried to explain, unable to hide his excitement.

  “Surprised, aren’t you? This room’s inscribed with a high-tier spatial expansion circuit.”

  He gestured toward the corners of the hall, where unfamiliar runes had been etched with meticulous care.

  “To be honest, I only managed to complete the research recently. The spell comes from an old grimoire passed down in my family—but parts of the original script had eroded over time. I had to reconstruct the missing runes and rework the topology from scratch before I could restore it.”

  Pride crept into his tone at the end. Kellen adjusted his monocle with practiced confidence.

  Rein nodded slowly, listening without interruption.

  But inwardly, a question surfaced on its own.

  Was the déjà vu earlier… a bug? A flaw introduced when Kellen rewrote the ‘code’ of an ancient spell?

  “Mind if I take a closer look at the spell traces?” Rein asked.

  “Not at all! I’d be honored,” Kellen replied at once. Then he paused, clapped his hands, and motioned for the others to gather in the center of the room. “All right, everyone—time for introductions.”

  He turned toward Rein with a smile. “Honestly, I doubt there’s anyone here who doesn’t already know you.” He gave Rein a quick wink before continuing in a more formal tone. “This is Rein—that Rein. Third place at AGMT, and one of the rare minds capable of reshaping magical theory itself. The Corvus structure on the board behind you? Entirely his work.”

  Every gaze in the room shifted toward Rein, as if an academic legend had just stepped into the room.

  Kellen hesitated, glancing awkwardly at the two beside Rein. “And, uh… the two standing with him are—”

  “I’m Mira, and this is Boris,” Mira cut in smoothly, smiling as she rescued him. “We’re Rein’s friends.”

  Boris simply nodded, true to form.

  “And over there,” Kellen continued, “is Jalara Louden—our club’s angel.” He gestured toward the blonde girl with clear blue eyes and features refined enough to look almost sculpted.

  “The Louden name needs no introduction. One of the wealthiest merchant families in Arcadia. Tonight’s food and drinks are courtesy of her generosity. Let’s hear it!”

  Applause followed. Jalara responded with a faint smile, her gaze lingering on Rein—measured, unreadable.

  “Next to her is Dana Voss,” Kellen said, nodding toward the girl with pale blue hair. “Her father serves as an envoy from the Northreach court.”

  Dana waved shyly, smiling.

  “And that big guy over there is Curt Vanguard—my closest friend. Hey, Curt! Why don’t you tell Rein how you somehow ended up in DVM when you really belong in the Department of Battlemage?”

  Kellen laughed. Curt, arms crossed as ever, answered only with a low chuckle.

  “And lastly…”

  Kellen trailed off.

  “We can skip him,” Jalara said dryly, her smile edged with mockery.

  The smaller boy standing near the blackboard stiffened, clearly alarmed at the thought of being ignored. He hurried forward, pressing a hand to his chest.

  “M-Marten. Marten Blackleaf!” he blurted. “I know the Blackleaf family has… a reputation, but I’m from a minor branch! I’m nothing like the problematic ones in the main line, I swear!”

  He rambled until Dana gently stepped in. “Relax. No one here thinks you’re like Killian.”

  Rein narrowed his eyes slightly. The name Killian tugged at something in his memory—like a file he’d skimmed once but never fully opened.

  Before he could place it, Mira leaned closer and whispered, her voice trembling just enough to be annoying.

  “Killian’s the werewolf from the legend I told you about earlier.”

  Rein winced.

  Seriously… I really should’ve paid more attention when she was telling ghost stories.

  The introductions concluded, and Kellen seemed practically vibrating with energy. He moved to stand beside the long dining table as if delivering a proclamation.

  “All right! As president of the Beyond the Enigma Society, I hereby declare tonight’s special dinner officially open!”

  He paused, turning to Rein. “And as our guest of honor… would you like to say a few words?”

  Every eye in the room turned toward Rein—Jalara’s sharp scrutiny, Marten’s open admiration, all of it converging at once.

  Rein pressed his lips together. He hadn’t prepared for this, and his mind was already full. His gaze drifted over the plates of steak and thick stew laid out on the table before he spoke, his tone as flat and honest as possible.

  “Well… it’s already pretty late. I figure we’d be better off eating while we talk.”

  The silence that followed was absolute.

  So complete that the faint crack of burning firewood in the hearth echoed through the room.

  No one moved. It was as if they were waiting—for a second sentence, a deeper meaning.

  Nothing came.

  Rein, however, showed no embarrassment at all. He walked to the table, picked up a plate, and began serving himself.

  Before taking his first bite, he glanced up at the others—still frozen in place—and frowned slightly. Then he gave a small, indifferent nod.

  What are you waiting for? Eat.

  Boris was the first to let out a quiet chuckle. As Rein’s former creditor, he knew better than most: beneath that composed, brilliant exterior, Rein often did nothing more than follow his instincts—honestly and unapologetically.

  Boris stepped forward to join him at the table, followed by Mira, who shook her head with a smile.

  The remaining members of the Beyond the Enigma Society could only blink in silence.

  You’ve just met a mystery you could spend your whole life trying to solve, Boris thought as he picked up his fork, glancing sideways at the messy-haired boy calmly chewing through a thick cut of steak.

  These entries expand the lore and mechanics introduced in this chapter.

  Completely optional—read only if you enjoy diving deeper into the system.

  Location Codex

  The main commercial district in front of Arcadia Academy. Packed with shops, restaurants, and a constant stream of voices and activity, it resembles a small, self-sufficient city rather than a mere school campus. It embodies the fusion of urban life with magical culture.

  A mana-powered transportation system spanning over 15 kilometers within Arcadia. Trams operate using linear-vector mana circuits embedded in iron rails, converting mana into rotational force via a control-crystal system. The system is crude by Rein’s standards but effective—indicating practical application of theoretical mana engineering. Trams are mana-charged at station domes, each fitted with massive charging arrays.

  The elegant gateway station to DVM (Department of Variant Magic). Known for its white marble floors, etched gold, and silence, it stands in stark contrast to the chaotic Kingdom District. Its design and atmosphere project discipline and hierarchy.

  A bird-like familiar that glows faintly with mana energy. They are often used as magical surveillance creatures or passive guardians. In this chapter, a mana owl appears silently and vanishes, possibly tied to the Enigma Society’s perimeter defense or monitoring system.

  An advanced magical structure inscribed into the cabin, allowing its interior to be non-Euclidean—larger inside than outside. Reconstructed by Kellen from a damaged family grimoire, the circuit adjusts spatial topology to create an expansive, comfortable chamber inside an otherwise small building. Its flawed reworking may be linked to local reality distortions.

  A secretive academic club dedicated to exploring advanced magical theory. Its headquarters is a magically expanded cabin in the forest. Members include Jalara Louden, Curt Vanguard, Dana Voss, Marten Blackleaf, and Kellen (the club president). Rein is invited as a guest of honor, recognizing his contribution to Corvus topology.

  A prominent member of the Beyond the Enigma Society. From one of Arcadia’s wealthiest merchant families, she finances the club’s food and activities. Her demeanor is poised and observant, with a gaze that lingers on Rein—suggesting interest beyond mere curiosity.

  Another member of the society. Daughter of a Northreach envoy. Shy and gentle, she serves as a social buffer within the group.

  A large, stoic student and Kellen’s closest friend. Despite his size and battle-ready appearance, he is enrolled in DVM rather than the Department of Battlemage, hinting at undisclosed talent in magical theory.

  A nervous but well-meaning student from a minor branch of the infamous Blackleaf family. He immediately distances himself from the main lineage, particularly Killian Blackleaf, who is hinted to be the “werewolf” from Mira’s earlier urban legend.

  Previously part of Arcadia folklore as the rumored werewolf haunting the forest. Now identified by name—Killian. He belongs to the Blackleaf family and carries a dangerous reputation. Whether the legend is real or metaphorical remains unclear.

  Pop Cultural Reference

  Artist: Oasis – A pivotal British rock band from the 1990s, central to the Britpop movement. Known for their working-class anthems, Gallagher brothers’ volatile relationship, and swaggering musical style.

  – Genre: Britpop / Alternative Rock

  The History:

  Released as part of their critically acclaimed second album (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?, Wonderwall became one of the most iconic tracks of the 1990s. Its melancholic acoustic guitar riff and cryptic lyrics captured a sense of emotional longing and romantic uncertainty, wrapped in British cool.

  The term “Wonderwall” is never defined directly in the lyrics, which adds to the song’s mystique. It’s often interpreted as a metaphor for a person—or idea—that serves as an emotional anchor, a lifeline in turbulent times.

  Trivia:

  – Wonderwall was originally written by Noel Gallagher and was rumored to be about his then-girlfriend (later denied).

  – The song’s simplicity—both musically and lyrically—has made it a staple for amateur guitarists and karaoke nights worldwide.

  – The band famously began to resent its own popularity, with Liam Gallagher once refusing to perform it live.