Author Note: I'm changing the term "miasma meaning" to "dark meaning" as it sounds a lot better. Honestly I'm surprised I didn't consider this right from the start :p sorry for any confusion this may cause.

  Sunday morning arrived.

  Ethan blinked awake, the soft golden light of dawn filtering through the curtains. It took him a moment to remember where he was—this wasn’t his dormitory. The pin but cozy room of a local inn greeted him with unfamiliar stillness.

  And then the memories returned.

  He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His thoughts were tangled—fshes of the previous night danced behind his eyes, stirring a mix of emotions. There was a sense of nervous guilt, the kind that always came with stepping past a line you weren’t sure you were ready for… but also a strange warmth. A closeness that lingered like a quiet fme.

  “I really did it this time,” he muttered under his breath, exhaling through his nose.

  He turned to gnce across the room.

  There, curled up on the second bed, Misha slept soundly. Her soft breaths rose and fell in rhythm, and a hint of a smile lingered on her lips, as if she were still dreaming of something sweet. The thin bnket wrapped loosely around her form, hiding nothing and yet somehow everything at once. But Ethan didn’t linger on the details. Instead, what caught him—what truly held him—was how peaceful she looked. So completely vulnerable, and yet so sure she was safe beside him.

  That trust hit him harder than anything else.

  "She really trusts me that much..." he whispered to himself.

  Ethan’s gaze dropped to his hands. He flexed his fingers slowly, remembering the comfort they had offered the night before. The passion, the hunger, the thirst. The instincts taking over reason as two bodies became one. The way she had clung to him, her sweet voice asking for more as she sunk her nails in his back refusing to let go. So raw, so wild, so desperate. And then the silence that followed. As if it was just a dream.

  This time I will truly need the potion Professor offered me st time.

  He stood, careful not to make too much noise as he gathered his clothes. A sheepish smile crept across his face as he caught himself checking the mirror, spping his cheeks lightly to shake off the drowsy fog—and the lingering warmth in his chest.

  "Pull yourself together," he muttered with a soft ugh.

  There was a lot ahead of him today.

  Ethan stood by the window, watching the soft morning light stretch across the quiet town. The chill of the gss beneath his fingertips grounded him as he remembered—today was Sunday, which meant another Dark Magic lesson. And not just any lesson but one he felt would be crucial to him. Skipping it—or even arriving te—was out of the question.

  He turned to gnce at the clock on the wall. Still plenty of time. More than enough to make it back to the dorms, change, and freshen up properly. There was a small bath avaible here, sure, but without a change of clothes, it would feel like a waste. Better to return and get ready the right way.

  He shifted his gaze to the bed once more.

  Misha y there, the morning light brushing against her features. Her hair spilled over the pillow in soft waves, her breathing calm and steady. She looked so at ease, wrapped in dreams he hoped were peaceful. Ethan stepped closer, careful not to wake her, and leaned in gently.

  He kissed her—not on the lips, but softly on her forehead, a whisper of affection left behind like a promise.

  “Sleep well,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

  Grabbing a nearby slip of parchment, he scrawled a quick message and pced it by the bedside table.

  “I had to leave early, I got an extra lesson to attend. I’ll see you soon.”

  ——Ethan

  One st gnce, and then he slipped out the door, quiet as a shadow, ready to face whatever the day had in store.

  Ethan stepped out of the inn and onto the cobbled path, ignoring the knowing smirk the busty receptionist shot him on the way out. He kept his eyes forward and his pace brisk. There were more important things on his schedule than dealing with the teasing of a smug stranger—like getting to css on time… and surviving another day with Professor Alric.

  Back at the dorm, Ethan moved efficiently. Off with his rumpled clothes, on with the hot water. The sting hit almost immediately.

  “Gah—damn it,” he hissed through his teeth as the heat met the cw marks on his back.

  The pain wasn’t unbearable, but it definitely wasn’t subtle either.

  First it had been the bite. Now this.

  Ethan exhaled heavily and leaned a hand against the tile. That girl’s a menace. A cute, affectionate, dangerously pyful menace. Like a wild cat that purrs in your p one second and sinks its cws into you the next.

  Still… he wasn’t compining. Not exactly.

  He chuckled under his breath, shook his head, and rinsed off. Shower done, scratches accounted for, and the lingering scent of Misha’s perfume now properly washed away, he dressed quickly. But before heading to the infirmary, there was one more thing he needed—fuel.

  The canteen wasn’t too crowded this early, and Ethan made straight for the fruit basket. He picked out a crisp apple and a ripe banana, tossing them into his tray. Nothing fancy, but it’d hold him over until noon. As he turned to leave, something made him pause.

  Near the far corner of the canteen, a small group of students had gathered, clearly surrounding someone.

  At first, Ethan wasn’t interested—drama before breakfast wasn’t exactly his favorite—but then his eyes caught a fsh of familiar brown hair and a quiet face he vaguely recognized.

  Wait… isn’t that… Christopher’s childhood friend?

  He snapped his fingers softly, trying to remember the name, but it didn’t come. Still, the point stood—he did know her. And if she was someone Christopher cared about, Ethan figured turning a blind eye would be a bad look. Besides, getting on the golden boy’s good side wouldn’t hurt either.

  He sighed and left his tray by the table. “Alright,” he muttered under his breath, “let’s be a hero before breakfast.”

  And with that, he headed toward the corner, steps light, expression calm—but eyes sharp and ready.

  The girls surrounding Angeline weren’t even trying to hide their hostility. Their voices were sharp, dripping with passive aggression thinly veiled beneath faux politeness. But Ethan could hear it clearly—every word was ced with jealousy.

  “She’s just clinging to his childhood memories—” “—he deserves someone better.” “Why does she even get to be around him?”

  They didn’t like that Christopher cared about her—a quiet, modest girl who barely spoke in css and didn’t have a fshy personality. To them, she was pin. Unremarkable. A nobody who had somehow earned the attention of someone like him.

  But Ethan? He saw things a bit different from where he stood.

  Angeline was anything but pin. She had a gentle grace about her, a presence that made people instinctively want to protect her. Her expressions were soft, her posture composed, and her eyes held a kind of calm strength that couldn’t be faked. And if that wasn’t enough, her looks were honestly nothing to scoff at—subtle, maybe, but striking in their own way.

  Definitely better than the trio of jealous hyenas barking at her, Ethan thought, unimpressed.

  Still, none of this was his business. Or at least it wouldn’t have been, if she weren’t Christopher’s childhood friend. If an enemy of his enemy was his friend, then a friend of his friend should at least be someone worth helping, right?

  But there was a bance to maintain. Christopher’s friend or not, Angeline was still a girl. And if he wasn’t careful, the way he intervened could be taken the wrong way—by Angeline, or worse, by Christopher. That wasn’t a mess he wanted to expin.

  So… how to py this smart?

  He thought for a second, then nodded to himself. Use authority. Create a reason. Be brief. Get her out clean.

  With a breath to center himself, he approached the four girls with a friendly wave and an easygoing smile.

  “Hey! There you are!”

  All four heads turned, and Angeline blinked, startled by his sudden appearance.

  “I’ve been looking all over for you,” Ethan continued, addressing Angeline directly before any of them could speak. “Professor Alric said he needed to see you. Something about... your mana evaluation form? Said it was urgent.”

  He turned to the other girls and added with an apologetic shrug, “Sorry for cutting in like this. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”

  None of them had time to object before he gently took Angeline’s hand and started walking away at a brisk pace. She followed without a word, almost dazed by how quickly the situation had flipped.

  It wasn’t until they turned the corner and the voices faded behind them that Ethan finally let go of her hand.

  He sighed and gnced back toward the canteen. “Damn. Left my lunch on the table…”

  Angeline looked up at him, a little out of breath but clearly relieved.

  Ethan gnced at her. “You okay?”

  She gave him a small nod. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Honestly, I didn’t know what was going on at first—I just saw a bunch of angry stares and thought, ‘Yep, time to intervene.’”

  Angeline gave the faintest smile.

  “Oh, and for the record,” Ethan added with a crooked grin, “I may not know much about you, but I do know Christopher doesn’t waste time on just anyone. So don't mind what those harpies says and live life as you wish.”

  Her cheeks tinted just slightly, but she didn’t reply.

  “Anyway,” he said, already taking a step back, “I’ve got somewhere to be. See you around. And tell Christopher he owns me a drink!”

  And with a casual wave, he turned and headed toward the infirmary, leaving the echoes of confrontation—and a rather flustered Angeline—behind him.

  Arriving at the infirmary, Ethan gave his usual half-bow, dramatic as always. “Your humble apprentice has returned, Mistress of the Forbidden Arts.”

  Lilith didn’t even look up at first—but when she did, a grin curled at the corners of her mouth.

  “Well, well~ If it isn’t Onii-chan,” she said with mock affection, csping her hands together and swaying side to side. “Come to bother your cute little sister again?”

  With a grin, Ethan dropped his bag onto the table and began pulling out a familiar sack. As he unwrapped its contents, a neat pile of wooden memory pieces slid onto the desk.

  Lilith leaned over, her curiosity piqued—only for her expression to ftten once she realized what it was. “Ugh. Another memory game? Seriously?”

  “It works, doesn’t it?” Ethan said defensively. “Besides, I added another fifty runes. That’s fifty new dark meanings to go over. I thought we were all about learning efficiently.”

  She crossed her arms, frowning. “So you want to py around all morning again.”

  “It’s still studying!” he insisted. “A very rigorous and effective method.”

  “Hmph.” She turned away with a soft scoff—but Ethan caught the way her eyes lingered on the pieces, her fingers twitching ever so slightly. For all her grumbling, she didn’t seem particurly upset. Maybe even the opposite.

  He chuckled. “Admit it, you like beating me at this.”

  “I like watching you struggle,” she corrected, though the corner of her mouth betrayed a smirk.

  Ethan started setting the pieces in neat rows on the table. “Same rules as before?”

  Lilith stepped over with a sigh, already rolling up her sleeves. “Let’s just get this over with, peasant.”

  A dozen matches ter, Ethan was starting to feel confident. The dark meanings of the runes were sticking, and his recall was sharper with each game. He was just about to pull out another batch of rune pieces when Lilith pced a hand on his wrist.

  “Onii-chan,” she said, her voice ced with pyful suspicion, “are you absolutely sure you’ve memorized all the ones we’ve gone through?”

  “Pretty much,” Ethan shrugged. “Even if a few are fuzzy, I’ll nail them down eventually. The more we py, the deeper they sink in.”

  Lilith eyed him for a moment, then sighed. “Hmm, fine. But let’s stop here for now. Time for something else.”

  He raised a brow. “Something else?”

  Without answering, she hopped off her chair and made her way to a nearby bookshelf. Stretching up toward one of the top shelves, she reached for a worn leather-bound tome. But even on her toes, her fingers barely brushed the spine.

  Ethan chuckled under his breath and quietly walked up behind her. With a swift but gentle motion, he lifted her by the waist.

  “Eek! Idiot! You could’ve warned me!” she protested, squirming in surprise. But she quickly snatched the book and muttered a small, flustered, “...Thanks,” as he set her back down.

  Returning to the desk, she pced the book in front of him with a soft thud.

  “I’m going to teach you a spell,” she said, flipping the book open. “It’s a second-grade dark magic spell, so don’t expect to master it in a day, but it’s important. Really important.”

  Ethan leaned in, already curious.

  “It’s called Dark Sonar. It’s used to detect Dark Runes—runes saturated with Miasma. They’re the components that make up your curses.”

  “Ah... like runes make up a spell?” Ethan realized, “So curses are pretty much the same as enchantments?”

  “Exactly,” she nodded. “But they act more like chains, deeply tying the target from inside, that’s why they’re hard to deal with. You can’t just erase a curse—you have to identify it, understand each rune, and dismantle them one by one, or better yet, repce its core runes, turning curses into blessings. Problem is, Dark Runes don’t glow like normal ones filled with mana. They’re silent. Invisible, unless you know what to look for.”

  “And this spell helps you find them?”

  Lilith smirked. “Yes! Normally you can’t sense most Dark Runes without it. Or at least not without years of experience—or a ridiculous sensitivity like yours. Anyway, even if you can do without it, you’ll find things a lot easier and clearer with this spell. So your next step is learning to cast it yourself.”

  She pushed the book toward him.

  “It might not show you all the runes from all your curses, but at least it will reveal the lower-level stuff, which is exactly what we’re aiming for right now!”

  Ethan nodded slowly, eyes flicking over the detailed diagrams and instructions.

  “And after that?” he asked.

  “We take it one step at a time,” Lilith said firmly. “Master this first. Once you can see the enemy… then we’ll talk about fighting it.”

  Ethan sat back in his chair, mind already working through the runes written in the book.

  “Alright. Let’s begin.”

  A Grade 2 spell meant working with at least a hundred runes—a daunting leap from the short, simple incantations Ethan was used to. Up until now, the spells he had cast were barely a dozen runes long, straightforward and linear. But this?

  This was something else entirely.

  The spell for Dark Sonar sprawled across the page like the branch of a tree. A single line of runes transformed in two, then three and four, branching out like trails of a maze, most ending abruptaly into dead ends while parallel lines continued in their paths. Ethan stared at the diagram in silence, a pit forming in his stomach.

  “How am I supposed to cast this?” he finally asked, bewildered.

  Lilith gnced up from the corner of the desk where she sat perched like a smug little raven. “Like any other spell,” she said, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. “The book already has the correct sequence. All you have to do is copy the runes and push Miasma through it, in the exact same order.”

  He gave her a ft look. “You say that like it's easy.”

  “It is,” she said sweetly. “If you’re good enough.”

  With a sigh, Ethan gave it a try.

  His first attempt took nearly five minutes. He traced each rune in the air carefully, making sure to maintain the correct order as he constructed the spell. But by the time he reached the mid point, the first several had already faded from the air, and soon the whole spell unraveled, colpsing before his eyes.

  Second try. The same.

  Third. A bit better—he managed to reach around seventy percent before the early runes faded.

  Fourth try. Not much progress. The problem was simple, he still wasn’t fast enough.

  A small sigh escaped him. He rubbed his face, groaning softly in frustration.

  “Let me guess,” he muttered. “You gave me this spell just to humble me for learning the runes too fast.”

  Lilith smirked. “Maaaaybe. But mostly because it’s essential. You’ll never fix the curses in your body if you can’t even see them. Dark Sonar is step one.”

  Ethan stared at the page again, trying to commit the path to memory. “Can you show me how it's done?”

  “Nope,” she replied immediately, not even blinking.

  “…Why not?”

  “Because that’s not how you ask favors from me, Onii-chan~,” she said, her tone dripping with mock affection.

  Ethan groaned, resisting the urge to smack his forehead. But he knew his resistance would only make her double down, so he decided to accept his fate while it still didn't affect his wallet.

  With a long, reluctant breath, he straightened up and bowed slightly. “Please, oh Mistress of the Forbidden Arts. Would you kindly demonstrate the proper casting for this very important and complicated spell to your loyal, struggling, and ever-grateful pupil?”

  Lilith tilted her head thoughtfully, as if weighing his performance. “…That’ll do.”

  She hopped off her chair, the teasing gleam in her eyes fading as she shifted into a more serious stance. Opening the book to the page, she raised her hand and began.

  It was fast. Blindingly fast. Her fingers moved through the air like a conductor directing a silent orchestra, weaving the branches of the spell in flowing curves and precise angles. Within seconds, the entire construct floated before them—a pulsing, quiet diagram of Miasma-bound runes that slowly faded in the air, leaving only a faint dark wave that expanded to all sides before disappearing as well.

  “Dark Sonar,” she said simply, dusting her hands like it was nothing. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Ethan swallowed. “That was insane.”

  “You’ll manage.” She gave him a wink. “Eventually.”

  He let out a low breath, determination settling in his chest as he returned to the book.

  Eventually, huh?

  Noon crept up on him, and despite dozens of attempts, the spell still refused to take form.

  Lilith stretched, her arms high above her head, and gave him a zy smile. “Let’s leave it as your homework, Onii-chan. You’ll figure it out.”

  Ethan sighed, shoulders heavy but not defeated. “Fine,” he said, giving her a small nod. “Thanks for everything.”

  He began gathering the scattered Memory game pieces, carefully pcing them back into his pouch one by one.

  Lilith watched him with a faint smirk. “Don’t lose those. We will be adding even more pieces next week.”

  Ethan smiled over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  And with that, he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door, the afternoon sun already warming the corridor outside. Another failure, maybe—but also another step forward.