Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor - Chapter 225: String Theory [3]
Chapter 225: String Theory [3]
To be honest, I was at a loss.
Every day, my body screamed in pain as the cancer progressed, eating me alive from the inside. Despite the Vessel Root strengthening my physique to rival, perhaps even surpass, that of a Crusader, even the smallest of wounds was enough to kill me.
Just a single cut was enough, and it would bleed endlessly unless treated with magic-assisted medicine.
That was my reality.
And worse than the physical decay was the storm brewing in my head.
’What am I supposed to do?’ I thought.
The world itself was heading toward calamity. Selena was here, by my side, with Vanitas Astrea, something that should never have happened in the narrative I knew.
…And moreover, Aston Nietzsche was nowhere to be found.
The only reason I had agreed to the Northern Duke’s request was for leverage, for mutual benefit. If what Selena said was true, then the Pope was no longer the Pope at all, but a completely different person.
That meant I needed a powerful faction to go to war against the Church. If they controlled Aston, then I needed a Great Power at my side.
Because the truth that I had never admitted aloud was simple.
I was weak.
Still, some small deviation, some sliver of hope, pushed me to probe this anomaly further.
“….”
My hand touched the coin in my pocket. I had noticed it before, how it reacted faintly to the leyline.
That meant it was a clue.
“…The Archives of Heaven,” I whispered.
A clue pointing to the Archives of Heaven.
Even if this world was destined to collapse, I wanted at least one victory to call my own.
A win against my terminal illness.
Because this life, living on borrowed time and should have ended long ago, was all I had left.
If I couldn’t steer everyone’s path to the right direction, then I would protect myself, even if only for a little longer.
For survival was victory enough.
“Marquess Astrea, it’s about time we return to our quarters,” Vincent said, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Is it that time already?”
“Yes.” Vincent nodded.
The Scholars offered their farewells in turn, now mindful of the rules that forbade them from wandering the halls at night.
After the fiasco earlier, no one needed reminding.
The rules were absolute. Break them, and death would be the only outcome, just as it had been for Scholar Henrick.
From witness accounts, Henrick had tested the boundaries of the law himself. A true Scholar, he had stepped outside in the name of hypothesis, attempting to see if the doors would remain open or locked.
It had not been stupidity but a Scholar’s devotion to inquiry. His death had served as proof for the ignorant to learn the truth.
In a way, Henrick’s end was no different from those nameless figures throughout history who tasted poison or strange herbs so others would know what was edible and what was not.
Their sacrifice was the foundation of discovery.
They were heroes, in their own way.
Hanging my coat on the rack, I sat on the edge of the bed before letting myself fall back, legs dangling off the side. Covering my face with one hand, I exhaled a long, weary sigh.
“Karina’s here…”
If my conjecture was correct, then by now she must have already told Astrid what she knew.
Where she had obtained most of that information, I couldn’t say. But I suspected that on the day she left me a year ago, she had rifled through my office and stolen certain documents the previous Vanitas Astrea had hidden away.
I had never found them myself. I had no idea where they were kept, nor what they contained. After all, I didn’t possess all of Vanitas Astrea’s memories.
Only enough of it.
Enough to leave me wondering.
Enough to make me feel that the memories surfacing in my mind were those he had chosen to discard, memories Vanitas Astrea no longer wished to bear.
Yes. If my hypothesis was correct, then I, Chae Eunwoo, was nothing more than a figment of Vanitas Astrea’s imagination.
A coping mechanism.
A split personality, so to speak.
There was little evidence to prove it, of course, not when my life as Chae Eunwoo had felt so vividly real.
But one truth remained certain.
That identity had torn his soul apart, and from that piece, Chae Eunwoo was born.
And this—this very phenomenon—became the foundation of my next and final project.
The String Theory.
If a single mind could break and give rise to another self, then why not the universe?
Why not reality itself?
Perhaps every choice, every unbearable memory cast aside, every coping mechanism formed out of despair, was not so easily forgotten, but lived out in another thread.
If so, then I was both proof and paradox.
A life that should never have been, and yet existed nonetheless.
“It’s all up to Astrid now.”
Whether she believed Karina’s words or not was beyond my control. All I could hope was that, if the worst came to pass, the one student I had carefully nurtured would stand by me.
That she would believe in me, until the very end.
That I had loved her mother more than anyone else in this world.
That I had cherished the very existence of Kim Minjeong, no matter what shape or form she took.
And that I… was breaking under Karina’s gaze. Those eyes, filled with longing and disdain alike, wearing the face of my beloved…
Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, I heard a voice.
——….Brother.
My eyes snapped open. Turning toward the door, I rose to my feet and reached for the handle, only to stop as I remembered the rules.
——…Brother, it’s me, Charlotte.
“….”
My chest tightened. The voice was so much like Charlotte’s. Yet I knew better. Whatever was behind this door could not be Charlotte.
——Even if you don’t open the door, it’s fine. I just wanted to tell you this.
“….”
——I’m sorry for leaving you so soon.
“….”
——If only I had been stronger… you wouldn’t have to suffer like this.
“….”
Even if it was only an imitation, the words cut deep. They were just as kind as the ones Charlotte would have spoken.
——Oppa.
My grip on the handle trembled.
——Then this is farewell.
“Wait,” I finally responded to her.
The corridor beyond the door remained silent for a moment.
“…Charlotte,” I whispered with my forehead pressed against the cold wood. “Even if it isn’t really you… don’t go. Not yet.”
For a heartbeat, there was nothing. Then, softly, her voice came again.
——I’m really sorry, Oppa.
The words felt like a cruel lullaby, and I found myself caught between wanting to believe and knowing I shouldn’t.
There were so many things I wanted to tell her. So many things I should have said back then.
But before anything else…
“No, I’m sorry.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than her voice, and my throat felt like it was tightening.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you away,” I whispered. “I should have taken you with me. I should have protected you. I was stupid, undoubtedly so. I had the power, the means, yet I still convinced myself it wouldn’t be enough. I… treated you like a liability. I should have… I should have…”
The rest crumbled on my tongue, swallowed by the lump rising in my chest.
On the other side of the door, the faint sound of breath echoed, as if she were still listening.
But whether it was truly her or only a phantom conjured by the hotel, I could no longer tell.
And yet, for the first time in a long while, I spoke as if it was her.
“W-Why didn’t you tell me you knew I was sick? No… that’s not right. I shouldn’t have hidden it from you in the first place. I thought it would only burden you…”
No, whether or not it was real didn’t matter. Even if it wasn’t her, I wanted to believe it was Charlotte, my little sister.
The sister I had failed… again.
“But I was wrong… I was so wrong…”
My hand pressed harder against the door, trembling as if the thin wood was the only thread holding me together.
“Charlotte… if only I had one more chance—”
The words caught in my throat, and I stopped myself.
A chance? No. This already was my second chance. And I had failed it again. What worth would a third chance hold in the hands of someone like me?
I was a failure, through and through.
The silence that followed was deafening until the sound of weeping seeped through the door.
——sob… sob…
“….Charlotte.”
——I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I never wanted us to meet again like this…
“Charlotte.”
——Oppa.
I wanted to see her, just once more, even if it was for the last time.
My hand twisted the handle before I could stop myself. The door creaked open slowly.
“….”
But the sight that greeted me was not Charlotte.
“….”
….How cruel this world was.
———!
The next instant, a hand shot forward and clamped tightly around my throat.
* * *
The interior of the hotel was nothing short of chaos. Across its halls and rooms, countless phantoms emerged. They were loved ones who reached out to the living, which was far too convincing to dismiss.
The rules had been made clear from the beginning. Yet, despite how blatant they were, temptation ensnared the hearts of many. The surrealism was too much to resist, and the doubt in their minds was too heavy to cast aside.
For not everyone inside had suffered loss. Some still yearned for people they wanted to meet, such as parents, siblings, lovers, whether in the forms of voices, silhouettes, or faces conjured with perfection.
It was far too easy for the hotel to convince them. A single word spoken in a familiar tone, a gesture they had seen countless times in their memories, it was all enough to destroy even the strongest resolve.
In that moment, reason, logic, and caution all crumbled.
The Lily of the Valley needed no demons roaming its corridors, for the true demons resided within the human heart.
Just one night was all it required.
However, for those with the means necessary, they fought back.
Among them was Vanitas. The phantom wearing Charlotte’s voice and face had not devoured enough of his despair to claim him.
With a flick of his wrist, a Windblade hurled the specter backward through the doorway.
Bang——!
The force slammed it into the opposite wall, and the door to the room across opened.
Vanitas stepped inside and froze.
The sight was gruesome. The lights flickered erratically. Cracks spread across the walls, the floor littered with broken furniture and shattered glass.
In the center of it all lay a body.
“….”
Its stomach had been torn open with the intestines spilling out across the broken floorboards. The chest cavity was caved in, and the ribs cracked wide like shattered teeth. The eyes, glazed and rolled back, stared at nothing.
Blood had spilled all over the floor, congealing in thick pools that reflected the intermittent light.
It was Vincent.
The same man who had walked the halls with him not long ago, was now nothing more than a mutilated husk.
“….!”
Vanitas narrowed his eyes and lifted his hand to strike the phantom down. But before his blade could fall, the figure dissolved into shadow and phased through the floorboards.
Flick. Flick——
The lights stuttered, on and off, on and off. And with each pulse of darkness, more bodies appeared.
Scholars he had shared words with earlier were now strewn across the corridor like baggage as their blood painted the wallpaper, pooling into the cracks of the floorboards.
The smell of the rancid stench of death emanated in the air, disgusting enough to sting the back of his throat. Even with all his experience, Vanitas felt bile rise, and it took every ounce of willpower to suppress it.
Tak. Tak. Tak.
He stepped out of the room and scanned the halls once more, only to see them now transformed into a corridor of corpses.
A sudden pressure bore down, and Vanitas turned around sharply.
———!
The next instant, a blade drove straight into his chest. The breath caught in his throat as warmth spilled down, soaking his coat in thick crimson.
“…K-Karina.”
It was Karina, standing before him.
The world around him began to twist. The flickering lights turned into streaks of crimson. The littering the floor seemed to vanish, only to reappear closer, then disappear again.
“…..”
Karina’s lips moved, though no sound reached him. Her eyes stared into him with both sorrow and hatred, before the blade in her hand twisted deeper. The pain was unbearable, spreading like fire through his veins before it forced him down to his knees.
Rumble——
The walls cracked. The ceiling shook, and the shadows stretched wide as if the entire Lily of the Valley was caving in on him.
Vanitas gasped for breath. The last thing he saw was Karina’s face leaning close as her lips formed silent words he could not decipher.
It was then.
“Huukh…!”
His eyes fluttered open.
His body trembled violently, drenched in sweat. He was still in his room with the door shut tight and the ticking of the clock marking midnight.
“…A dream.”
It was said that demons fed on one’s fears.
And in that moment, Vanitas understood.
“….”
Just like Karina had said, he was afraid.
Not fear for what Karina might do to him, but of himself.
“….”
…Of sinking deeper into the void, of what he might do, knowing he had nothing left to lose.
