Inside the main gate, where the lights had gone out.
In the pitch-black darkness, something stark white writhed and crawled its way out.
That pale-white something, formed of ectoplasm, was faint—but it had taken on the shape of a person.
It looked as though someone had gathered a thin mist and molded it into human form.
Yes.
It looked exactly like a ghost.
There were at least twenty of them.
Beyond the slowly shuffling procession of ghosts, a woman revealed herself.
Unlike the faint revenants who possessed neither will nor desire, she radiated an overwhelming presence—dozens of times stronger.
“Hiiik!”
Hermoa screamed at the sight.
“It’s too late! It finally came out! The Ghost Queen!”
Ludger couldn’t respond at all.
He had dismissed it as nothing more than idle rumors circulating among students—but to think the Ghost Queen actually existed.
Had something gone wrong during necromancy-related research in the research building?
Ludger carefully observed the so-called Ghost Queen Hermoa had mentioned.
“......What? I thought it was a real ghost, but that’s a person, isn’t it?”
The infamous Ghost Queen wasn’t a ghost at all—she was human.
Because of the color of her hair and the pure white lab coat she wore, she resembled the other ghosts, giving rise to that misunderstanding.
She was undeniably alive.
It was just that her piercing gaze and ominous aura made her seem far more dangerous than the ghosts that had appeared before her.
‘But still... I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere.’
As Ludger felt a sense of déjà vu while staring at the Ghost Queen, their eyes met.
Hermoa flinched and hurriedly hid behind Ludger. Just locking eyes with the Ghost Queen was enough to make one’s body tremble uncontrollably.
However, the Ghost Queen wasn’t paying Hermoa any attention.
Her gaze had been fixed on Ludger from the very beginning.
Those eyes, which until now had held nothing but endless rage toward the world, flickered with a new light for the first time.
“Professor Ludger?”
“...You...”
Hearing his name, Ludger spoke the name that had just surfaced in his mind.
“Julia?”
The Ghost Queen of Seorn, the subject of countless rumors.
Her true identity was someone Ludger knew well—a student.
Julia Plumehart.
* * *
Uuuurghhh.
Uoooooohhh.
The ghosts let out zombie-like sounds as they wandered around aimlessly.
Seated on a café chair set up outdoors, Ludger watched them with a complicated expression.
“I was surprised. I never imagined you’d come back here again, Professor.”
“Didn’t you hear the news?”
“I was busy. Well, I did hear from Rine that you’d returned, but who would’ve expected to run into you at Seorn?”
Ludger agreed with that sentiment.
After all, even he hadn’t expected to be reinstated at Seorn himself.
“Anyway, it’s nice to see you again.”
“It’s been a long time. You’ve changed quite a bit.”
“Well, of course. How could I compare to my student days?”
Julia said with a smile.
Like the other students, she had matured considerably over the past three years.
She’d already looked mature even back then, so the difference was less pronounced compared to others.
Ludger nodded, then voiced the question that had been on his mind.
“But what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you got a job at Seorn right after graduating?”
“......”
Julia fell silent at his question.
Her lips pressed into a straight line—exactly how someone who had nothing to say would look.
As Ludger tilted his head in confusion, Julia averted her gaze slightly and spoke.
“No. I didn’t get a job at Seorn.”
“You didn’t? Then are you gaining experience as an intern?”
“I’m not an intern either. I just... didn’t graduate.”
“You didn’t graduate?”
The moment he heard her answer, Ludger realized what choice she had made.
“Don’t tell me. You became a graduate student?”
“......”
Having been hit squarely at the mark, Julia slowly closed her eyes.
It was as though she were once again confronting the grim reality she was in—and quietly accepting it.
“Your grades weren’t bad, were they?”
“Not just not bad. I never once lost the top spot.”
It seemed that even after Ludger left, she had continued to rank first throughout her second year and beyond.
That alone proved how exceptional a mage Julia Plumehart was.
She, too, deserved to be called a once-in-a-generation genius.
And yet, that genius was still unable to graduate from Seorn—remaining in the research building like a wandering ghost.
What a cruel reality.
“Why did you make that choice?”
“Well...”
Hesitating, Julia explained why she had been forced to make such a decision back then.
“As you know, Professor, my magic belongs to the special category—Dreamwalk.”
“That’s right.”
Dream magic was one of the more commonly practiced types among the special categories, but it was still special-category magic.
In other words, it was difficult for most mages to master.
“Most mages in the Dream School are already quite old. At this rate, the school itself is facing an existential crisis.”
On top of that, due to Apostle Nirva, many Dreamwalkers—including Clara Cowen, who had been the school head—had died, leaving their overall strength significantly diminished.
“Our school needs new blood. To do that, we need to accept new people—young mages, in particular.”
“But special-category magic is hard to learn, and finding people with the right aptitude isn’t easy either.”
“Yes. That’s why we need to change our approach. We have to rework Dreamwalk magic so anyone can learn it.”
“That’s... not an easy decision.”
There was a reason special categories weren’t bound to existing magical systems.
Beyond the small number of practitioners, their power was far too abstract and vast to be neatly categorized by formulas or theory.
All existing magic had been created through the accumulated efforts of countless geniuses over human history.
Julia was declaring that she would willingly walk that same pioneer’s path.
If she had simply aimed to reach the pinnacle of Dreamwalk magic, that wouldn’t have been difficult for her.
But trying to integrate Dreamwalk magic into the existing magical framework was far beyond what could be dismissed as a mere “new challenge.”
“I know. I know it was arrogant of me. But I had no other choice.”
Fatigue colored Julia’s voice, but she didn’t regret her decision.
“Even if I went back to that moment, I’d make the same choice.”
“If you don’t regret it, then that’s enough. So that’s why you’re holed up in the research building, studying Dreamwalk magic?”
“Yes. I’ve been forcing out progress somehow, but lately I’ve been feeling my limits. I mean, I’m practically carving out a completely new path.”
The fact that she had made progress at all was impressive.
“At least I managed to get this far with Franz’s help, but even that’s reaching its limit.”
Franz was also an outstanding Dreamwalker, someone with the potential to become the next head of the Dream School.
Thanks to his help, Julia had achieved significant progress in her plan—but even that was starting to strain them.
“Anyway, since I need help in many ways, I’ve been squeezing the other graduate students pretty hard.”
As expected.
From her words, Ludger could tell she wasn’t an ordinary graduate student.
In terms of seniority, she might rank below those zombie-like ghosts wandering around—but she held her position through pure ability.
Which made sense. She didn’t even have an ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) assigned advisor.
Even so, the reason she was allowed to conduct research here was probably thanks to Headmaster Elisa Willow pulling some strings.
Strictly speaking, it was hard to call her a graduate student. Still, since she worked alongside other graduate students in the research building, perhaps “senior graduate student” fit best.
“Then those ghosts wandering around over there are.......”
“They’re not ghosts. I just separate their minds using Dreamwalk magic and let them rest.”
Julia had fully realized a method Ludger himself had once devised.
“No matter how much you rest the body, mental fatigue still remains. So this is a way to refresh the mood a bit—by taking them out for a walk. Only at night, of course.”
That must have been the source of the Ghost Queen rumors.
Anyone who saw a white-haired woman leading pale ghosts through the night would think the same.
“So that’s how the rumors started.”
“Rumors? There were rumors?”
Julia herself seemed completely unaware.
Well, she probably didn’t have the time to care about outside gossip. Just reworking Dreamwalk magic already filled her days to the brim.
“Still, talking about it like this makes me feel a bit better. Of course, once I go back, I’ll be wrestling with endless theories again.”
Julia shook her head. She claimed she was fine, but she looked utterly worn out.
The anxiety of walking a path with no clear end—and the exhaustion that came with it.
Watching her, Ludger spoke casually.
“If you’re that worried, I can help.”
“...What?”
Julia froze mid-lift of her coffee cup and stared at him.
“You mean you, Professor Ludger?”
“As you know, I can use Dreamwalk magic too.”
Though he hadn’t learned it formally, Ludger had effectively mastered Dreamwalk magic through his journeys into Dreamland.
And the trial Nirva had imposed upon him.
Layered dreams—almost a curse—meant to erase his self through countless dreams.
Ludger had broken through them all, accumulating immeasurable experience.
Naturally, though he wasn’t a Dreamwalker, his understanding of Dreamwalk rivaled that of the Dream School mages.
“Even so... it’s still hard to believe.”
Though her words expressed doubt, a light of hope shone in Julia’s eyes.
As she spoke with Ludger after reuniting with him, she had sensed it faintly.
Three years.
In that time, Ludger had reached an extraordinary realm as a mage.
It was almost instinctive. As someone gifted in Dreamwalk, Julia could feel it clearly.
Dreams tied to the subconscious.
Dreamwalkers, who operated closest to such dreams, unconsciously tapped into humanity’s deeply engraved potential.
Julia’s instincts were whispering to her.
Accept Ludger’s offer.
“If you help me... is there anything you want from me in return?”
Julia grabbed hold of the rope that had dropped from the sky.
She couldn’t deny the fear that it might be rotten—but she chose to boldly trust her judgment.
Her situation was already bleak. Trusting Ludger was her only option.
At her question, Ludger grinned.
“I’ve just been reinstated, but the timing’s bad, so I haven’t been able to secure an assistant yet.”
“So you want me... to be your assistant?”
“That’s right. If you do, I’ll become your academic advisor. I may be a Special Class instructor, but I’m still a formal teacher.”
An outrageous offer—an 8th-circle mage as her advisor.
Of course, Julia didn’t know Ludger’s exact level, so she couldn’t immediately accept the proposal without hesitation.
But the moment she asked for his terms, her conclusion had already been decided.
“Alright. At this point, I’d welcome even the smallest help.”
“Good. Let’s sign a contract, then. It’s best to be thorough at times like this.”
As he spoke, Ludger pulled a contract out of his shadow.
Seeing him manipulate space magic as naturally as breathing sent a shiver down Julia’s spine.
And she realized—
She hadn’t made the wrong choice.
“But why do you already have a contract like that?”
“Since I’d need an assistant after being reinstated, I had to be ready to recruit one at any time.”
Holding the contract, Julia carefully read through it.
It was Seorn’s standard contract, with a few additional clauses.
“Hm.”
One of the added clauses gave her slight pause—but the chance to systematize Dreamwalk magic mattered far more.
Without hesitation, she signed her name.
The magically binding contract was thus formed.
“Congratulations, Julia Plumehart.”
“Here. I’m trusting you to keep your promise.”
“That’s what a contract is for.”
Ludger smiled gently as he offered his congratulations.
Seeing that smile, Julia felt an inexplicable chill run down her spine.
As though she had just signed a contract with the devil.
But it was already done. There was no turning back.
Tucking away the contract, Ludger felt a deep sense of satisfaction.
He had just acquired a senior graduate student who could command other graduate students.
And not just any graduate student—
A rare, wild one without an advisor.
