The moment Rein stepped into the Wisdom Zone, he felt the air change.

  The mana here didn’t glitter the way it did in other districts.

  It was calm. Cold. Still.

  And it carried the pressure of something heavy and unseen.

  Ahead stood the Department of Dark Magic, an edifice that ignored every architectural rule the Academy loved to flaunt. While other departments paraded their prestige with arches, ornament, and gilded domes, this one simply stood—silent. A monolith.

  It wasn’t an ancient medieval fortress like the DVM.

  It was a colossal mass of black stone, carved into blade-like lines. Its surface remained raw and unpolished, rising against time itself through a thin veil of mist.

  Rein walked along a corridor flanked by parallel walls of steep stone, leading straight toward the structure. Beneath the walkway lay a sheet of perfectly still water, reflecting the building like a mirror—like a seam between the living world and something else.

  Only a few slits of warm orange light leaked through the stone—just enough to guide the way.

  Simple, yet overwhelming.

  A true tribute to emptiness.

  The closer he got to the entrance—an enormous stair-hall climbing into darkness—the more clearly he felt a faint vibration from inside his coat.

  Nighty, in its pen form, trembled—like it had caught the scent of something familiar—and old. A thin black shadow seeped from the pen’s tip, melting into Rein’s fabric as if the weapon itself was excited to return to a place where darkness was this pure.

  [LIZ: I’m detecting dark-element mana density—over three times higher than outside.]

  “I get it,” Rein murmured. “A place that suits Isabella.”

  He stopped before the massive entrance. A red-orange glow breathed through the seams of the stone door—like the slow exhale of something asleep. Rein adjusted his cloak, then stepped forward into the twilight realm beyond.

  Metal groaned—deep and heavy—as he pushed the giant door of pitch-black steel.

  The instant he crossed the threshold, the world turned into silence. Not ordinary quiet, but a pressure that crushed the senses—like plunging into the ocean’s depths.

  A vast hall stretched ahead, declaring its authority through towering walls of black stone that rose as if they were reaching for the dark sky itself.

  At the center of the reception hall was another still pool of water. Its surface mirrored the geometry of the architecture in layered reflections—severe, imposing. Dim orange-red light bled from cracks in the walls and inner doorways, like magma flowing beneath a crust of stone.

  Rein noticed students of the Department of Dark Magic moving through the space like shadows drifting through a temple.

  All of them wore black cloaks trimmed in deep purple—the department’s color. No one spoke. No one’s footsteps made a sound. Only the faint flick of fabric could be heard when they passed through the muted light along balconies and steep stone stairs.

  Rein drew his own cloak closer against the thick current of dark mana in the air and started up a sharply cut stone staircase at the corner of the hall.

  But when he reached the landing above—

  he stopped.

  A shadow stood in his way—too large to be human.

  It was over seven feet tall, arms crossed, motionless—like a slab of the architecture itself. The gaze that looked down at him was openly malicious.

  And the students who had been moving through the hall just moments ago—

  vanished.

  The space emptied so cleanly it felt as though the darkness had swallowed them whole.

  “You are Rein Rhys, aren’t you…”

  A dry, lifeless voice came from the shadow.

  Rein narrowed his eyes. Its mouth didn’t move at all.

  Telepathic Link. Rein recognized it instantly—dark mages communicating through a mana construct while the real caster watched from somewhere inside the building…

  or perhaps from much farther away.

  Rein only gave a small nod, calm and unreadable, waiting to see how this piece would move.

  “A mere commoner… yet you have some nerve.”

  “Fine. In a few days’ time, we shall deliver your sentence ourselves.”

  The shadow stretched—lunging forward in a threatening surge, meant to overwhelm him with fear.

  But an instant before it reached him—

  BOOM.

  A heavy stomp echoed across the stone landing.

  A shock ran through the floor.

  The demon-shadow shattered into black smoke, scattering helplessly past Rein’s face.

  Rein didn’t flinch. His expression remained flat. Almost bored.

  He offered a faint smile to the girl who had appeared above him.

  Isabella stood there. Her long black hair framed skin pale and cold as carved stone. One foot ground the remaining fragments of the shadow into the floor until they crumbled into dark-element dust.

  “Hello, Isabella,” Rein greeted, adjusting his cloak.

  “Looks like the weather’s bad today.”

  “Yes.” She shook her head lightly—then, unusually, a small smile touched her lips.

  “And normally, no one with a functioning mind would walk through snow and wind just to come here.”

  Her eyes glinted.

  “Or… do you dislike riding the Arcadia Tram?”

  Rein fell silent for a beat, then answered with casual ease.

  “Can’t help it. Thinking while walking is my bad habit.”

  “But in a place this grim… is there anywhere we can sit and warm up with a drink?”

  …

  …

  This is… literally black coffee.

  Rein almost laughed inside his own head after the first sip of Vitreol—a pitch-black drink brewed by mana-roasting Vitrum Beans. The aroma was rich and layered, like premium coffee back on Earth.

  More importantly, it sharpened the nervous system’s mana circulation to its limit.

  The shop nestled inside the Department of Dark Magic, an herb-and-drink nook that seemed out of place.

  Pale wood, bright and warm, made the interior seem almost out of place, contrasting with the cold monolithic stone outside. Two desserts that looked suspiciously like cakes from Earth sat on the table; after tasting them, Rein paused—then gave a small, reluctant nod.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  Isabella lifted her Vitreol and took a sip. The steam and fragrance gave her otherwise still face a subtle depth—yet those emerald eyes remained unreadable, like deep water at night.

  “Being an Investigator seems quite convenient,” she said flatly, with a trace of mockery.

  “Free lunch,” she added. “And now free drinks too.”

  Rein paused for a moment, then shrugged and spooned up another bite of dessert without a care.

  “Dark Magic is far from the Academy’s center,” he said mildly.

  “Still,” he added, “news travels faster than I expected.”

  He sipped his Vitreol, eyes sweeping the room with quiet vigilance.

  “That shadow… whose was it?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Don’t worry,” Isabella replied.

  “As long as you’re inside my domain, no one can send a shadow to eavesdrop—unless they’re a higher Tier than me.”

  Rein glanced down and noticed it: a thin black shade spread beneath Isabella’s feet, webbing across the floor like a spider’s network—cutting the room cleanly away from the outside.

  “As for the shadow that greeted you on the stairs…” she continued, crossing one leg over the other as she looked at Rein.

  “It was most likely Oliver Pembroke—a Winter Council member.”

  She swirled her cup slowly.

  “He’s descended from a Necromancer bloodline,” Isabella said.

  “One that carries an exemption.”

  Rein’s brow tightened instantly.

  “An exemption? But Arcadia law says Necromancy is forbidden.”

  “It is,” Isabella said calmly.

  “For commoners.”

  She rotated the cup in her hand, voice as cool as stone.

  “But if you’re of a noble line… or a designated heir granted a ‘special exemption’ by the Kingdom, you’re permitted to study the arts of death—to serve the royal family.”

  Her eyes met his, steady and merciless.

  “Those rules never intended to bind everyone equally, Rein.”

  “So that means…” Rein murmured. “He might already be here.”

  “Not necessarily,” Isabella replied, lifting her Vitreol for another sip. “The caster’s proficiency determines how many kilometers the shadow-communication spell you saw can transmit. But it’s only meant for intimidation—it can’t actually attack anyone.”

  She paused briefly before continuing.

  “At the very least, we’ve confirmed one thing. Oliver is among the first of the Winter Faction to return to the Academy ahead of schedule.”

  “You’re in the same department,” Rein said cautiously. “Yet it doesn’t sound like you get along at all.”

  “He’s an extremist obsessed with pure bloodlines,” Isabella answered. There was a brief silence before she added quietly,

  “…To me,” she said quietly, “that kind of thinking means nothing.”

  Rein gave a small nod, recalling the data LIZ had gathered. The Vane family was an ancient pillar of dark-mage power, yet Isabella clearly carried something beneath that cold exterior—something that made her turn away from the ideology of inherited superiority.

  Isabella was… different from Sophia.

  Sophia was easy to read. A brilliant orange-haired prodigy who had clawed her way into legitimacy as an illegitimate child, breaking rules through sheer effort and talent. Conquest forged her confidence.

  But Isabella remained an elusive variable.

  As though she were bearing a deeper, older contradiction—one rooted far beneath surface ambition.

  Rein cupped the Vitreol with both hands, feeling its warmth, then decided to press the key question.

  “Why did the Reaper target you?”

  Isabella hesitated. She leaned back in her chair, gaze drifting up toward the stone ceiling.

  “Honestly… I don’t know,” she said softly, exhaling. “It might be someone on the council who resents me for proposing a change to the rules—from restricting council eligibility to nobles, to opening applications to commoners.”

  Her eyes returned to Rein, troubled.

  “The motion is scheduled for a vote before the end of the month. I’d already secured support from the independents—Amelia, and others. If even one vote from Winter broke ranks, we would have had a real chance to win…”

  Her gaze dropped to the pitch-black Vitreol in her cup.

  “…But now that Amelia is dead, we don’t even have a chance anymore. And yet they still sent an assassin after me. That’s the part I can’t explain.”

  [LIZ: There’s something interesting here, Rein. If Amelia’s death already guaranteed their victory, but they still want Isabella dead, then the true objective may not be ‘stopping the vote’ at all—but wiping out the Spring Faction entirely.]

  A blue window flickered briefly in the dim shop. Rein glanced at it for less than a second before casually rotating his wrist, stretching as if easing stiffness, and dismissing the display without drawing attention.

  That’s possible, Rein replied silently.

  Isabella was the backbone of the Faction. Remove her—and Spring would collapse overnight.

  He finished the last piece of dessert. The gentle sweetness cut perfectly against the bitterness of the Vitreol.

  Then, without circling the issue any further, he met her gaze.

  “What do you think,” he asked,

  “about the duel in three days?”

  Isabella didn’t answer right away. She remained still for a moment, then shook her head faintly.

  “That… I’m not sure,” she said, avoiding Rein’s sharp gaze and looking instead at the stone floor—at the shadow pooling beneath him.

  Rein lowered his eyes as well, tapping the heel of his boot lightly against the wooden floor, as if testing its density.

  “I see,” he said. “You already know which side you’ll stand on when the time comes.”

  He set the empty cup down on the pale wooden table. The sound of wood against wood echoed softly.

  Rising, he adjusted his cloak.

  “Thanks for the Vitreol. It’s making me think the DVM really ought to have a place like this.”

  He smiled—strangely warm, for a place steeped in dark mana.

  “There’s a shop in the Kingdom Zone with a similar taste,” Isabella replied with a slight shrug, her composure returning to its usual calm.

  “You can try that one,” she said. “If you want.”

  She didn’t stand.

  “I won’t walk you out,” she added flatly. “And on your way back… try not to step on the tail of something again.”

  The half-annoyed warning followed him as she remained seated. Rein didn’t turn back—he only chuckled softly in response.

  Not long after, he pushed open the heavy iron door and returned to the outside world.

  Beyond the black-stone building, Rein looked up at the gray sky and exhaled a thin white breath. Evening seemed to arrive faster than expected. Fine snow began to fall, settling into the cracks of the stone walls, thin and deliberate.

  “The problem is—why use the same element every time?” Rein muttered as he trudged through thickening snow toward the DVM dormitory.

  [LIZ: Even when it tried to kill you last night, it deliberately used ‘Delay Casting’—exactly the same technique the ‘previous Rein’ used.]

  “That’s what bothers me,” Rein replied, brow furrowing. “Why go that far? It’s almost like the culprit is trying to prove they can do what I did—or maybe do it even better.”

  He slowed slightly.

  “Or maybe… the Shapeshifters are trying to prove something.”

  [LIZ: The real question, Rein, is who they’re trying to prove it to.]

  “Yes,” he mumbled. “Someone’s pulling the strings. And this kind of redundancy—it’s not designed for optimal assassination. It’s a stress test. Data collection.”

  His voice grew colder.

  “Just like a lab experiment. Control group. Test group.”

  He shoved both hands into his pockets.

  [LIZ: If that’s true, then the duel in three days isn’t just about settling a conflict… It’s a product demonstration—for someone.]

  “That’s exactly what worries me,” Rein muttered. “And I’m not the type to volunteer as a lab rat.”

  He reached the Department of Variant Magic—Devil’s Den—by early evening, as the snowstorm intensified. Yet his clothes were completely dry. The continuous circulation of mana-generated heat had evaporated the snow long before it could soak into the fabric.

  The moment he stepped into the shabby but familiar entrance hall, he found Boris and Mira waiting with crossed arms, their expressions tense.

  Rein sighed faintly, then forced a smile.

  “Have you two eaten yet? If not,” he added lightly, “dinner’s on me.”

  Soon enough, the three of them were seated together in the Devil’s Den cafeteria. It couldn’t compare to the luxurious dining hall of the Department of Elemental Magic—but the warmth here felt oddly more genuine.

  Rein played the role of host without hesitation, even as the number—132,000 AC—echoed faintly in the back of his mind.

  Mira chose a simple salad. Boris stayed loyal to his protein-heavy steak.

  “Where the hell have you been all day?!” Mira complained, shoveling salad into her mouth. “Do you have any idea how chaotic things got after you posted that notice?!”

  Boris nodded in agreement, chewing silently.

  Rein calmly began recounting everything—details of the council murder, the emergence of the Shapeshifters, his confrontation—pausing only to spoon down hot, hearty stew to replenish his energy.

  The moment Mira heard the word Shapeshifter, her eyes lit up.

  “Wait—if they can imitate people that perfectly, isn’t that bad?!” she blurted, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Rein. “Then how do I know you’re the real Rein? No—wait. You’re the fake, aren’t you?! The real Rein would never be generous enough to treat us to dinner!”

  “Kgh—!”

  The strike was fatal.

  Rein choked violently on hot stew, coughing until his face turned red and tears streamed down his cheeks. He grabbed a drink and downed it in one go, desperately trying to soothe his burning throat.

  “I see… so this is my fault,” he croaked weakly, wiping his eyes. “Fine. From now on, I’ll try to treat you better… as the real Rein.”

  Boris, who had been quietly chewing his steak, swallowed and finally spoke.

  “Why don’t we set up a code between us?” he said.

  Both Rein and Mira froze, staring at him. Boris stopped mid-motion, fork hovering in the air.

  “Like… if we ever get suspicious, we just ask the code. That way we can tell who’s real—and who’s a Shapeshifter pretending.”

  For a moment, silence.

  Then—

  “That’s brilliant, Boris!” Rein said, pointing his spoon at him. “That idea might be the only thing that keeps us from losing our minds first.”

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

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

  Location

  Department of Dark Magic

  A prestigious and intimidating structure located in the Wisdom Zone of Arcadia Academy. Unlike other departments adorned with grand ornamentation, Department of Dark Magic is a monolithic black-stone building designed as a tribute to austerity and silence. It emanates a high density of dark-element mana and carries a temple-like atmosphere. Students wear black cloaks trimmed with deep purple and move silently within its walls. The department is home to elite dark mages and often used as a political base for Council members.

  Magic and Spell Techniques

  Shadow Communication Spell

  A long-distance telepathic projection used primarily by dark mages. Allows the caster to send an intangible shadow construct capable of communicating through telepathy. While non-lethal and unable to attack, it’s frequently used for intimidation and surveillance. Effective range spans several kilometers depending on the caster’s tier.

  Key Characters

  Oliver Pembroke

  A high-ranking Winter Council member and descendant of a necromancer bloodline. Legally permitted to study necromancy because of a noble exemption—despite necromantic arts being forbidden for commoners. Known for extreme pro-purity beliefs and hostility toward commoners in power.

  Beverage

  Vitreol

  A dark-element beverage brewed from mana-roasted Vitrum Beans. Its flavor is reminiscent of premium black coffee from Earth, but with magical properties that enhance mana circulation and nervous system focus. Served within the Department of Dark Magic’s secret cafe—one of the rare warm and inviting places within an otherwise grim building.

  Other

  Necromancy Exemption Clause

  A legal exception granted by the Kingdom of Arcadia allowing noble families of specific bloodlines to study necromancy, under the justification that such knowledge may serve the royal family. This privilege is not available to commoners, despite the art being banned in general.

  The Spring Faction’s Council Reform Proposal

  A political initiative led by Isabella Vane to open student council eligibility to commoners. Historically, the council was restricted to nobles. The motion had gained support from key independents like Amelia—but with Amelia’s death, the proposal is likely to fail. The assassination attempt on Isabella suggests deeper motives beyond politics—possibly aiming to eliminate the entire Spring Faction.

  Verification Code System (Proposed)

  Boris suggests creating a secret “code” among trusted allies to identify each other and guard against shapeshifter impersonation. Rein and Mira warmly received this idea, marking the first strategic step toward countering the identity threat.

  Dark Element Mana Density

  The ambient magical pressure inside the Department of Dark Magic is over three times higher than in other zones. This not only alters perception but affects magic responsiveness. Dark-element weapons and beings (such as Nighty) resonate or react more intensely within this domain.