Chapter 7
Return
“…Am I already dead?”
Mioon had asked himself that same question so many times he’d lost count.
Right up to the moment his consciousness faded, there was no doubt—he had been lying in a pool of his own blood, waiting for the judgment of fate.
—What are the odds I’ll survive this?
The pitch-black void around him was eerily silent, devoid of all life.
No emotion showed on Mioon’s face.
Strangely enough, he found himself oddly calm about such an ending—almost detached, as if it didn’t concern him.
“The first day I became a magician… and the last. I guess that’s what you’d call a speedrun ending.”
He gave a bitter, self-mocking laugh.
Despite the heavy wounds he’d taken, he didn’t feel any pain now.
There were only two possible explanations for wounds that severe to vanish in such a short time—
—magic, or death.
Since neither he nor Reona could use healing magic, he concluded it must be the latter.
“Wait—if I’m dead, then what happens to Reona…?”
He vaguely remembered her tear-streaked face beside him as he fell.
That part of the memory was one he didn’t want to revisit.
It was one of the few questions for which he didn’t want an answer—because he could already sense it would only hurt.
(…Re—on…)
And yet, the last words of the bearded man came back to him—words claiming that the very existence of him and Reona had been a mistake.
(…Reona…)
Those words lingered like a splinter in his mind. They sounded like mockery—like a curse aimed at denying everything about the Scarlet family.
Why?
(Hey, Reona…)
…Well, whatever.
If he was dead, he’d have all the time in the world to think about it.
(Mioon, please… get better soon…)
(Huh?)
A soft, gentle voice reached him.
It was faint, but it filled the hollow inside him with warmth.
“R–Reona…?”
Hearing her voice here could only mean one thing—
that the tragedy had happened again.
And that thought terrified him more than death itself.
Fortunately, when he looked around, she wasn’t there.
That alone eased his panic a little.
“Thank goodness… Reona’s alive… Wait, then that voice just now—telepathy? Which means—”
Suddenly, everything tilted.
A powerful pull cut his inner monologue short.
Mioon’s soul, which had been drifting between the underworld and the realm of the living, was yanked downward—straight into the depths.
Or perhaps not downward—
more like through a tunnel leading to an exit.
And then—
He returned to his original vessel: his own body, which had been lying unconscious.
“—Ah?!”
Mioon’s eyes flew open.
He kicked off the blanket and sat up, blinking against the blurry light as he scanned his surroundings.
The room felt deeply familiar.
Of course it did—he’d lived here for over ten years.
The clock on his desk showed 7:30 AM.
Wednesday.
The day after the forced event.
“I slept that long…? Wait—”
His body felt heavier than usual.
Then he noticed why.
On the left side of the bed, Reona was sound asleep, using his thigh as a pillow.
There were faint dark circles under her eyes—clear signs she hadn’t slept all night.
“Reona… ah, right!”
He quickly lifted his shirt and looked down at his stomach.
There it was—a four-centimeter scar, proof that the previous night’s attack hadn’t been a dream.
Bandages wrapped his arms and other wounded spots, and the neatly applied ointment suggested careful tending.
It was obvious who had done it.
“Thank you, Reona.”
He smiled faintly as he glanced at the first-aid supplies scattered across the floor.
But his brief peace was shattered by a sharp headache.
“Ugh! Damn it… what the hell happened to me?”
His head throbbed. His memories were fragmented, disconnected.
If survival counted as victory, then none of the cells in his body were celebrating it.
All he could remember was being carried halfway by someone—and then, standing before a door, being enveloped in light.
Only fragments remained.
Why was I attacked?
Why were there magicians here—around Silphas?
And that silver-haired girl who appeared at the end—who was she? An illusion? A dream?
Those questions gnawed at him.
When he looked at himself through the mirror in his closet, he saw a worn-out, exhausted reflection staring back.
“Tch…”
He clutched the blanket and looked out the window.
Outside, everything seemed so peaceful—
people walking by, students heading to school, office workers waiting for buses.
The same everyday scenery as always.
And yet… something felt subtly wrong. Something he couldn’t name.
“…I need answers.”
He considered staying home to rest.
But his irritation turned into determination.
He had to find the missing pieces of his memory.
Information gathering—that’s the priority.
With that plan in mind, Mioon climbed out of bed and quickly changed into his school uniform.
“Let’s go together. Yesterday’s still not…”
Her sleepy mumble trailed off.
He turned. Reona was still curled up, breathing softly—her peaceful, kitten-like face enough to melt anyone’s heart.
He couldn’t bring himself to wake her, not after she’d stayed up all night caring for him.
The fact that he could breathe this morning air at all was thanks to her.
“…Get some rest, okay?”
He found a blanket and gently draped it over her small frame as she murmured, “Fnyaa…” in her sleep.
Then he brushed his hand through her red-violet hair and moved toward the door.
But the moment he opened it, he stopped.
Instinctively, he turned back to look at her again—sleeping peacefully, the embodiment of warmth.
For a few seconds, he stood there, unmoving.
In his eyes shimmered quiet kindness and gratitude.
“Thanks, Reona. Really.”
Even if she couldn’t hear it now, he knew the feeling would reach her—telepathically, somehow.
And for once, before stepping outside, Mioon added something rare:
“…I’m off.”
