The scent of blood and iron lingered in the morning air.

  Among the trees at the edge of the forest, a wagon stood — its wheels spattered with blood, bodies lying nearby. A few men, clad in gray cloaks bearing the emblem of the Triple Brotherhood, silently checked their weapons. Their movements were precise, calm — they had seen death more than once.

  Garret leaned against the wagon, sword in hand. The blade was still red — the blood just beginning to congeal. He exhaled, surveying the scene.

  > “Finally, he’s here,” he murmured, as if speaking to himself.

  Hooves clattered.

  A group of riders emerged from behind a hill.

  At the front rode Katsu — broad-shouldered, with a cold gaze that even silenced the birds in the branches. He dismounted and, without removing his gloves, approached Garret.

  > “You summoned me,” he said emotionlessly. “Found something interesting?”

  Garret glanced at the wagon, then at the bodies around.

  > “We recently tracked a group,” he said calmly. “They’ve been bringing goods into the kingdom. No seals, no markings.”

  He drew his sword across the fabric, cleaning the blade of blood.

  > “This is one of their wagons we ran into.”

  Katsu scanned the area.

  > “They attacked.”

  > “Exactly,” Garret nodded. “They knew what was being transported… and that it was hidden.”

  He approached the wagon and pulled back the curtain.

  Inside — a heap of violet stones, coal-like. They shimmered faintly in the dim light, emanating a strange, pulling cold.

  Katsu frowned.

  He picked up one stone, holding it for a few seconds. A thin layer of purple dust clung to his glove.

  > “Erkan,” he said, sensing the magic around them dull as if drained. “Suppresses mana.”

  Garret nodded.

  > “An alchemical element. Legal almost everywhere.”

  He clenched his fist.

  > “But not here. In Arcanum — strictly forbidden. Magic is the heart of the kingdom. Without it, we are nothing.”

  Katsu squeezed the stone tighter, then tossed it back into the wagon.

  > “So… smuggling.”

  > “Not just smuggling,” Garret said, staring into the distance. “Think about it: there are almost no swordsmen in the kingdom. Everything relies on mages.”

  He turned to Katsu.

  > “If enough Erkan is collected, spread across the capital, and trained swordsmen are sent in…”

  Katsu finished his thought:

  > “The kingdom falls.”

  They fell silent.

  Only the wind stirred the leaves, and somewhere in the distance, a bridle creaked.

  Katsu frowned.

  > “Should we tell Hiro?”

  Garret stayed quiet for a long moment. Then he exhaled, leaning on the wagon.

  > “I thought about it. But… no. We didn’t send him there for this.”

  He looked toward the horizon.

  > “He’s only fifteen. Fully grown, yes, but an adventurer since he was seven. And we? Adults, you’re thirty, I’m forty. Let him live a normal teenage life, have fun, make friends — we’ll handle this ourselves.”

  He paused, then added softly:

  > “If everything goes completely south — then we’ll tell him.”

  Katsu nodded.

  > “Agreed.”

  He turned to the men behind him.

  > “Burn the bodies. Take the wagon with us.”

  Garret gave one last glance at the stones in the wagon.

  At that moment, the wind picked up, as if the earth itself sensed something — the air smelled of an approaching storm.

  ---

  Meanwhile, in Rosaline’s room…

  The room was silent.

  Only the morning sunlight filtered through the curtain, softly landing on the bed where Rosaline lay.

  Her body twitched, her breathing uneven. Drops of sweat glistened on her temples.

  She tossed and turned, struggling against something unseen.

  In her dream — a mist.

  A boy sat in a chair beside her. Clad in athletic wear, his face shrouded in white fog, unrecognizable. She laughed, and they turned toward a screen to the right.

  A flash.

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  Pain. Light. Ringing in her ears.

  The world cracked like glass.

  Rosaline jerked onto her side, a convulsive gasp escaping her chest.

  Now — another scene.

  The same boy, but screams, gunfire, and the clang of metal surrounded him.

  He grabbed her hand.

  > “Quick! This way!”

  They ran down a corridor. Glass shattered beneath their feet.

  The world crumbled.

  Final scene.

  He held a door against the roar and flames. She said:

  > “H-hi…”

  Suddenly, an explosion. The floor cracked and gave way. The boy pushed her — and the ground fell from beneath his feet.

  Rosaline hit the floor, turned her head, and saw him vanish; a hole opened beneath. She screamed:

  “No… NO!”

  She bolted upright.

  > “No!”

  Heavy breathing, ragged gasps. Sweat on her neck, trembling fingers.

  She sat on the bed, covered with a blanket, eyes darting — unable to believe it was over.

  A knock at the door.

  > “Rosaline de Lacour, are you alright?”

  A maid peeked inside cautiously.

  Rosaline exhaled, grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand, and took a few sips.

  Her voice trembled, but she tried to appear calm:

  > “Yes… just a nightmare.”

  The maid stepped further in.

  > “Preparations have already begun, milady. You should attend — as the student council president.”

  Rosaline froze.

  > “Already?”

  She caught her breath. “What’s today’s date?”

  > “May twentieth,” the maid replied, glancing at her notebook.

  > “Already the twentieth…” Rosaline whispered.

  She lowered her gaze and wearily rubbed her face.

  “The school year ended so quickly…”

  “With these dreams, I’ve completely lost track of time… every day the same. Only now new details appear. God… what’s happening to me…”

  She forced a strained smile.

  > “Alright. I’ll head out soon.”

  The maid nodded and closed the door.

  The smile vanished.

  Only a shadow of fatigue remained on her face.

  Rosaline walked to the window.

  Sunlight pierced through the glass.

  She gazed at her reflection — dull eyes, dark circles beneath.

  > “I’m so tired…” she whispered to herself.

  Then, quietly, as if nothing had happened, she began getting dressed.

  ---

  The streets of Arcanum came alive with the first rays of sun.

  The air filled with motion and voices. Students, mages, and merchants hustled everywhere. Some carried crates, some hung banners, some argued:

  > “This way, faster!”

  “Where to put the box?”

  “Probably hang the flags at the entrance…”

  “Leave it in the garden, I said!”

  “What about the food?”

  “Rats ate it! And my figurine too!”

  “You won’t catch me!”

  The crowd buzzed with life. Noise, commotion, the faint scent of fresh bread — everything hinted at the approaching festival.

  Hiro walked slowly, careful not to bump into anyone.

  > “What on earth is happening here…” he muttered, dodging a group of hurrying students.

  At that moment, Rosaline noticed him.

  She looked tired, faint shadows under her eyes — remnants of nightmares she hadn’t yet shaken.

  Approaching, she said with quiet exhaustion:

  > “Again wandering around doing nothing?”

  Hiro turned, smirking slightly:

  > “Oh, princess. Sleep well?”

  > “That’s none of your business,” she waved him off, but without her usual sharp tone.

  Just then, a girl collided with him, carrying several boxes. The load nearly fell, but Hiro deftly caught the crates, returning them to the flustered student’s hands.

  > “What a mess,” he said.

  Rosaline rubbed her temple with a finger.

  > “End of May. Preparations for graduation and course allocations. The academy is literally buzzing.”

  > “Ah, right,” Hiro muttered. “I just enrolled three months ago… time flies.”

  He looked up at the sky, clouds peeking between the towers of the faculties. Rosaline froze suddenly. The image flashed in her mind — a boy in a sports shirt, looking at the sky. His face obscured by mist, details blurred. A ringing pierced her ears, then the vision vanished.

  A sharp pain shot through her head.

  She grabbed her temples, staggering.

  > “Hey, are you okay?” Hiro frowned.

  > “Yes… I’m fine,” she managed, averting her gaze.

  > “Doesn’t seem like it. This isn’t the first time you’ve had these attacks.”

  Rosaline’s eyes widened. She grabbed his collar abruptly.

  > “How do you know about them!?”

  > “I just guessed,” Hiro replied calmly. “You lose balance, hold your head, wince in pain. Everything points to it.”

  She loosened her grip slightly and stepped back.

  > “You’re supposed to be the strongest and smartest among us.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Do you know why this happens?”

  Hiro scratched the back of his head.

  > “No. Tell me what you see.”

  Rosaline took a deep breath.

  > “I see… visions. People. Places I don’t know.”

  > “HIRO!” — a sudden shout interrupted her.

  They both turned. Lía — a brunette, energetic, smiling from ear to ear — ran toward them.

  > “Hiro! Hi! I’m so glad I found you!”

  Seeing Rosaline, the girl straightened and bowed politely:

  > “Lady Rosaline, good day.”

  Then she smiled brightly again:

  > “A new café opened! Hiro, come!”

  Hiro smirked:

  > “Alright, alright, don’t pull me.”

  Lía grabbed his hand and pulled him along. Rosaline lingered behind, about to leave, when she heard:

  > “Hey, Rosaline! Maybe you should eat something. Might help. Come with us.”

  She froze, slightly blushing.

  > “W-with you?.. O-okay,” she muttered, quietly following.

  The café stood on the corner, surrounded by greenery.

  A small outdoor terrace was decorated with flowers and wooden railings, the sun playing gently across them. The air smelled of fresh pastries and something sweet, as if spring itself had paused here for a cup of tea.

  Hiro, Rosaline, and Lía took a table at the edge — round, carved from light wood. Thin menus lay on it, decorated with calligraphic writing.

  > “Three Blueberry Clouds, please!” Lía exclaimed immediately, hand raised like a schoolgirl in class.

  Hiro and Rosaline exchanged glances — Lía always acted before thinking.

  Minutes later, the desserts arrived.

  Each plate held something like white jelly, drizzled with thick blueberry syrup. Atop lay a delicate pink petal — a springtime imprint on snow.

  Hiro took a spoon. The cold cloud melted in his mouth, leaving soft sweetness with a slight tang.

  > “Hmm… not bad,” he murmured.

  Rosaline tasted it cautiously — and for the first time that day, a faint relief appeared on her face.

  Warmth slowly spread through her chest, the shadows of the dream retreating.

  > “M-mmm! Delicious!” Lía exclaimed, eyes closed. “I feel like I’m floating on a blueberry river, on a soft cloud! Aaah!”

  Hiro and Rosaline looked at her in sync. When Lía finally opened her eyes, she noticed their gazes:

  > “What? You don’t like it?”

  Hiro shrugged.

  > “It’s tasty. You just… act like it’s a spiritual revelation.”

  > “You’re boring,” Lía snorted, grabbing her spoon again.

  For a while, peace reigned at the table.

  But soon, Hiro noticed the air thickening.

  He saw the girls’ breathing grow uneven. Rosaline flushed, Lía struggled to hold her spoon, their eyes shining.

  > “Uhm… you two okay?” he frowned.

  No answer — only heavy breaths.

  Hiro quickly scanned the menu.

  > “Blueberry Cloud — creamy mousse with elf wine infusion (15%)”

  > “That’s… a horse’s dose of alcohol…” he whispered.

  It affected him not at all, but the girls… definitely.

  > “Alright,” he said, standing, “we need to disperse. Preferably — into the shade.”

  > “Already?” Lía asked, trying to steady herself.

  > “Anyone living nearby?”

  > “Yes…” she blinked. “My dad’s café. He’s inside.”

  > “Perfect. Go inside, sit, maybe lie down.”

  Lía nodded obediently, wobbling toward the door.

  Hiro turned to Rosaline.

  She sat motionless, staring into space. Cheeks burning, breathing uneven.

  > “Rosaline? You okay?”

  She slowly raised her gaze — eyes clouded.

  > “No… Hiro… I’m so hot…”

  Hiro stepped closer, gently taking her hand.

  Her skin was hot, as if fevered.

  > “Stand. Hold onto me.”

  She tried to walk but almost collapsed halfway.

  > “Hiro… I can’t… looks like a heatstroke…”

  He glanced around. More than a kilometer to the female dorm, only a couple of minutes to the male dorm.

  Decision made instantly.

  > “Hang on. It’s cooler there.”

  He helped her, supporting her shoulders.

  Rosaline spoke little — just breathing deeply, fighting the internal heat.

  In the male dorm, he laid her on a bed in his room.

  > “Lie down. I’ll get ice.”

  He turned to the door, hearing only her shallow, ragged breaths and the rustle of sheets.

  Half an hour passed.

  Rosaline’s heat began to subside, but instead of relief, a strange sensation overtook her. Legs trembled, breathing quickened, body seemed to crave someone’s presence. Her gaze blurred, and her once-proud demeanor took on playful shades.

  She slowly opened her eyes — and the world seemed bathed in pink light.

  The room glowed with the sunset, yet everything shone from her internal warmth. On the nearby desk lay Hiro’s diary — casually open, as if inviting her to read it.

  > “Well, well… someone has secrets,” she whispered, biting her lip.

  She grabbed the diary, hiding it under her uniform at her waist. A soft laugh escaped — muffled, yet full of strange pleasure.

  The door creaked quietly at that moment—Hiro entered the room, holding a paper bundle filled with pieces of ice.

  The moment his eyes met hers, he realized the ice was no longer needed. Rosalyn, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, was staring straight at him as if he were the only living being in the universe.

  “Looks like the ice won’t be necessary after all,” Hiro said with a tired smile.

  “Hiiiii Hiro…” she murmured softly, almost purring.

  He exhaled, glanced out the window, and without another word opened it, tossing the melted ice outside.

  “Feeling better?” he asked, looking at her over his shoulder.

  “Aghhh…” Rosalyn reached out, touching his chest and running her hand over it, as if checking whether he was real.

  “Having that much fun, huh?” Hiro smirked, gently lifting her over his shoulders. “Let’s go, princess. Time to head home.”

  The sun was already tilting toward the horizon as they left the dormitory. The evening air was filled with the scent of lilacs and silence, broken only by the sound of their footsteps.

  “Hiiiro! Why are you so strong?” Rosalyn asked, her voice soft and slightly intoxicated from the heat.

  “I don’t know,” he replied calmly.

  “God of the Void will definitely notice you!”

  “Mmm… God of the Void,” Hiro repeated softly.

  “Yes, he’s so mysterious and magnificent… You’re somewhat like him.”

  “How interesting.”

  “That annoys me.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “He once saved my life,” she added unexpectedly.

  “Really? Will you tell me later?”

  “Huh? Yeah, I will…”

  They walked in silence for a while.

  “Damn, it’s not fair… Why am I not that strong?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’ve always dreamed of meeting the God of the Void… since I was a child!”

  “You’ll meet him one day.”

  “He’s a legendary S-rank adventurer!”

  “A-rank,” Hiro corrected automatically.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  When they reached the women’s dormitory, maids ran out from the doors. Rosalyn was already falling asleep in his arms, her breathing steady. Hiro carefully handed her over to them, nodded briefly, and headed back.

  ---

  Returning to his room, Hiro barely stepped over something on the floor.

  He bent down. Embroidery hoops lay there—unfinished, seemingly depicting a landscape… a lake in a forest, with two small pink lights as well. Hiro picked them up.

  “Probably from Rosalyn,” he muttered, holding them in his hands.

  Outside, night had already fallen. Darkness enveloped the Academy, but Hiro could still faintly smell Rosalyn’s perfume on the fabric.

  He decided to return the item immediately. Hiro made his way back to the women’s dormitory.

  Sneaking through the quiet corridors, he reached the third floor. Silence lingered at Rosalyn’s door. Hiro cautiously opened it…

  And at that instant, his heart froze.

  In the dimly lit room, illuminated only by moonlight, Rosalyn was sleeping in bed.

  Next to her, leaning over, was a girl in a tight black suit.

  Her right hand was raised, and in it gleamed a dagger.

  The blade was already poised for a strike.

  Hiro did not hesitate. His gaze instantly turned as cold as the void itself.