A storm had passed.
The dormitory, once filled with wailing and screams, had now fallen into a desolate silence.
“What... just happened?”
Atra brushed her hair back as she spoke. The thick jealousy that had surged up in her moments earlier had been entirely incinerated by the event that had just transpired.
It was that intense... and chilling.
Everyone in the room understood what she was referring to.
The bedroom, though crowded with people whose hair gleamed in various colors, was spacious enough to accommodate them all.
Their gazes were fixed on the bed.
There lay Lee Hayul, sound asleep as if nothing had happened, and Seo Yul, who had cried her heart out and now clung to him tightly, also asleep.
To call them asleep might have been inaccurate.
One wouldn’t typically refer to a state where someone had poured blood from their body and lost consciousness as “sleeping.”
“Could it have been... a restriction?”
Liana replied, her complexion haggard, a testament to the storm she had just weathered.
“Cadet Lee Hayul was clearly trying to say something. But just as he was about to speak, he froze, his body convulsed as if in a seizure, and he vomited blood. Could it have been the backlash from violating a restriction?”
“A restriction? Who would have imposed such a severe restriction, and when? More importantly, how could the subject of the restriction be unaware of the conditions?”
Having worked on the frontlines of the African Mystic Realm, both Liana and Atra had encountered restrictions before, though they were rare.
Atra rebutted because she knew how unlikely it was for a restriction to take hold in the first place, let alone one this powerful.
The vivid image lingered in her mind.
The blood that had surged up like an overflow from his Seven Meridians.
The frothy blood pooling at the corners of his mouth, and the unidentifiable, pulped flesh that spurted out when he coughed.
The circuits across his body, contorted and shattered as if torn apart, and his body convulsing violently like a broken marionette.
‘......’
The recollection made Atra feel as though she might faint. Her head throbbed painfully.
To establish a restriction of that magnitude, what kind of process would it take? And for Lee Hayul to remain unaware of the conditions, only to step into death’s door when trying to reveal a secret?
And most of all...
“He regenerated... no, he healed himself at an absurdly fast rate after the backlash, didn’t he?”
“Giving medicine only to poison later, or whatever the hell that was supposed to be...”
After his body had been mangled from the backlash, the injuries reversed, as if time had rewound.
They had checked multiple times, yet his body was perfectly intact.
The backlash that typically left someone maimed or led to their death had, in this case, inflicted immense pain but then healed him completely.
Why inflict suffering, only to restore him?
Shock-induced death? If the intent was to kill, wouldn’t it have been simpler to use those resources to finish the job?
“...We don’t even know if it’s truly a restriction. All we know is that he suddenly vomited blood and collapsed...”
“Seriously...”
No one could determine the exact reason. The mood grew heavier as everyone’s expressions darkened.
Though they all knew Lee Hayul carried his share of secrets, none had imagined that trying to uncover one of them would lead to this.
Hong Yeonhwa was wracked with guilt, her insides twisting. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was her fault Lee Hayul had ended up in such a state.
She had probed him about his secrets earlier, and the guilt gnawed at her, wondering if that had triggered this outcome.
Beside her, Elia felt no less tormented.
The image of Lee Hayul coughing up what seemed like fragments of his own organs and blood in front of her was seared into her memory.
No matter how much healing and regeneration she poured into him with her innate abilities, the torrent of blood had refused to stop. The thought of his gradually cooling skin and strained, shallow breaths left her pale and trembling.
“Could it be... a curse?”
The voice that pierced the silence drew everyone’s attention.
The mere mention of a curse, with its ominous implications, stiffened their faces.
With waist-length, water-blue hair and sapphire-like eyes, Baek Arin, who had been silent and pensive until now, shrugged under their tense gazes.
“A condition being met without the subject’s awareness... there are plenty of curses like that.”
“That’s true. Considering he didn’t know the condition, it could very well be a curse.”
Liana nodded in agreement.
“But could a curse really come with such backlash and conditions? That level of output seems impossible.”
“If the preparation was meticulous and involved a sacrificial ritual, it could work. More so if the curse had stipulations like non-lethality and regeneration layered on top of it.”
Liana and Baek Arin carried the conversation forward.
The others lacked the specialized knowledge to contribute and instead listened intently.
The discussion flowed seamlessly, and Liana’s eyes widened in surprise.
Baek Arin’s knowledge of curses exceeded all expectations.
It was astonishing; her understanding of curses was leagues ahead.
Baek Arin had a grasp on the mechanisms and principles behind the formation and operation of curses, details even Liana didn’t fully comprehend.
“Curses, huh... It’s a niche subject that most people skim over, only learning countermeasures at best. Yet you seem to know it inside out.”
Even at Siyoram, black magic was taught, though it was often deemed repulsive and taboo.
Complete rejection of the practice wasn’t viable since it would hinder the ability to counter it effectively. For this reason, educational institutions included it in their curricula.
However, it was far from popular. Most students learned only enough to defend against it, rarely delving into the intricate mechanics or advanced theories.
But Baek Arin was well-versed even in those advanced aspects.
“Well... there’s no harm in learning,” Baek Arin replied with a faint smile, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.
“Besides, I’ve always found it interesting.”
* * *
Humans occasionally ponder the reasons for their existence.
Why was I born? What must I achieve in life?
Most often, there is no reason for a human’s birth.
There isn’t typically a grand narrative or predetermined goal for their existence.
Updat𝒆d fr𝑜m freewebnøvel.com.
Humans are rarely born with a purpose, nor are they created for a specific function.
Unlike a sword forged to cut and pierce, humans are not bound by a fixed utility.
“Heeing...”
But Seo Yul was different.
Tears clung to the corners of her eyes. She was overwhelmed with emotion.
The young fairy, unable to articulate the maelstrom of feelings within her, struggled with the flood of emotions.
The commonality in her emotions was their negativity.
Happiness or joy was nowhere to be found.
That dark night, she awoke, consumed by sorrow. Seo Yul turned her head in search of Lee Hayul.
But he was nowhere to be seen.
Lee Hayul was asleep on the other side of the room, nestled close to Elia.
Using Elia’s arm as a pillow, he rested his face against her side, breathing evenly in peaceful slumber.
“Ing...”
Seo Yul flapped her wings.
Dodging Elia’s hand, she maneuvered herself between them. Wriggling into the narrow space, she pressed herself against Lee Hayul’s chest.
Though his body had become smaller than hers after his regression, Seo Yul didn’t mind and buried her face in his embrace.
The comfort and warmth she felt were immeasurable.
Elia’s soft and cozy arms were comforting, but this—this was true happiness.
Not long ago, though it felt like an eternity, Seo Yul had been trapped in her unhatched egg form. Her consciousness was hazy, and she waited for the day her master would awaken her.
She didn’t know how much time had passed.
In her dim awareness and instincts, all she could do was await the moment of hatching.
And then it happened—a stimulus.
The presence of her master, trying to awaken her.
Back then, Seo Yul was certain.
She didn’t feel much.
There was a faint sense of joy that she would finally hatch, but no great exhilaration.
Even before her birth, she understood her role as a fairy knight.
She was a shield, a sword, a spear, and armor meant to protect her master.
Created and born solely to guard her ruler, she would live her life with this singular, absolute purpose.
Her future was set in stone.
While the preceding fairy knight guarded her ruler, Seo Yul would rapidly grow into an adult.
During that time, she would acquire combat skills and knowledge necessary to protect her master.
Once matured, she would spend her entire life by her master’s side, fulfilling her role as a tool.
As she pondered this, she felt a gentle touch on the surface of her egg.
It was a cautious, tender hand, as if the person feared they might break something fragile.
And from that touch, a wave of warmth and affection reverberated through her mind.
To Seo Yul, a fairy knight who had yet to experience the world and had only formed a cold self-identity through her innate knowledge, this was a profound and... soft wave of emotions.
‘Is this... my master?’
The master she had imagined was different.
She had expected someone cold and rational, a leader of their kind. Instead, the hands cradling her egg were warm and gentle.
The way they held her close, as if to shield her from harm, overflowed with kindness.
The red woman had genuinely considered breaking the shell and consuming her before she could hatch.
While her tone was mostly teasing, it wasn’t entirely without truth.
They discussed cooking her on a grill, roasting her whole, and savoring her “contents.”
Listening to these horrifying suggestions, Seo Yul trembled with fear inside the egg.
It was her master who shielded her from such threats.
Though his frame was smaller and frailer than the others, he held her egg tightly, protecting her from the dangers around them.
After her birth, though she was young and weak, Lee Hayul cared for her with boundless affection, unbothered by her inability to fulfill her role as a guardian.
He gave her a name, dressed her in soft clothes, kept her warm in his arms, and fed her nourishing meals.
At night, he would cradle her in his arms and gently lull her to sleep. Upon waking, he always greeted her with a smile.
These moments were deeply touching and brought her great joy, but they also made her feel helpless.
She was a fairy knight before she was a child.
How could a fairy knight, whose purpose was to protect her ruler, be the one being protected?
Her instincts as a knight rebelled against this. A fairy knight born with a mission should not be protected by their master.
Where were the previous fairy knights? Why was her ruler forced to endure such hardships alone? Where were her kin?
These were not questions a fairy knight should have to ask.
Seo Yul was a "fairy knight" born to protect her master.
She had a purpose.
She had a reason for being born and a goal she must achieve in life.
Her sole purpose was to protect her ruler.
But reality was harsh for a young fairy knight who hadn’t even lived a quarter of a year since hatching.
Seo Yul had not yet matured, and her master was constantly exposed to danger, fighting battles alone.
Despite her resolve to fulfill her mission, Lee Hayul repeatedly collapsed on the brink of death.
As time passed, his vitality seemed to fade.
And she wasn’t there by his side. There was nothing she could do.
Even now, as Lee Hayul vomited blood and collapsed right before her eyes, Seo Yul was powerless.
She couldn’t even throw herself in harm’s way to shield him.
Overcome with emotion, Seo Yul pressed her face into Lee Hayul’s back, seeking solace like a child seeking comfort.
‘This can’t go on.’
Seo Yul bit her lip.
Excuses wouldn’t change anything; the cruel world would not accommodate her.
‘I must grow... quickly.’
Fairy knights matured rapidly. They were designed to reach adulthood as swiftly as possible to be useful in battle.
But even that time felt too precious to waste.
There was no room for hesitation.
Seo Yul began to sift through the knowledge ingrained in her mind, extracting the information she needed.
Her wings fluttered.
A fairy’s wings were a unique and defining feature, not just for their beauty but also for their functionality.
Seo Yul glanced toward the artifact hovering in the air—the blue fabric of Sky Wings, Lee Hayul’s artifact.
It was also his wings.
Seo Yul extended her own wings, making contact with his.
The wings trembled. Gradually, information began to flow through Lee Hayul’s wings into hers.
‘I need to grow faster.’
She absorbed the knowledge needed to mature into an adult.
It was two days before the start of the second semester.
[Fairy Knight "Seo Yul" is synchronizing.]
[The growth of the Fairy Knight is accelerating.]
...
[Player Adjustment System: Calibration in Progress]
...
“Beauty?”: ?
“Fairy?”: ?
“Mental Damage”: Severe psychological trauma.
“Incomplete”: Fragmented and imperfect.
“Lifeless”: Completely drained of vitality.
...
[“Curse of Solitude” activates.]
[Curse of Solitude: Pain cannot be shared.]
[“Curse of Silence” activates.]
[Curse of Silence: Help cannot be sought.]