Edmond saw himself in a full-length mirror in the infirmary.
He was stunned. The black-haired boy in the mirror looked fine—no heavy wounds or damage, except for slightly chapped lips.
“How can this be…?” he whispered, touching his throat that had felt like it was destroyed by poison.
He realized aloud how ridiculous he sounded.
At that moment, footsteps approached behind him.
“Oh—Wolfgang, you’re awake?”
It was Professor Kestan. He explained that someone had reported a collapsed student, so Edmond had been brought here. They suspected a fainting spell and checked him—no injuries, no internal damage.
Edmond learned the tests showed nothing wrong with his throat or organs—despite feeling like they were eaten away.
“Please, Edmond… forget what happened today,” those were Irene’s words from yesterday.
Suddenly Edmond realized what she was asking him to forget.
Venomain success, healing or purification—that was rare and treasured. But if her purifying ability became known, she, born to a commoner mother, would lose her place entirely—even be cast out of the family.
Even though she must have known that, she still helped him—and erased his recent memories to protect her secret.
“Irene.”
This was the first time in years he had said her name again. And she had used his name yesterday to help calm him. His heart thumped, faster than usual—not from poison but from something else.
“Ugh…ow…”
Edmond was walking back from the library to his dorm when he heard a soft, painful groan echo in a dark hallway. He recognized the voice immediately: Irene’s.
“No… the ability…”
He saw her—leaning against a stone pillar, tears in her eyes, as blood dripped from her mouth.
She moved weakly, pulling out a small metal syringe from trembling hands, and injected poison into herself.
Poison. Just like Pierson forced on Edmond. But Irene chose to endure it to protect something—perhaps her dream to become a “Named” hero.
Even now, while his enemy’s enemy, she used her own body to help him—and keep her purification power secret from everyone.
His father’s warning echoed in his mind:
“Son, don’t go near Venomains. They’re demons hiding venomous fangs…”
But Irene didn’t seem demonic—she was kind and brave.
Since then, Edmond thought: if loving Irene could erase his guilt, he’d do anything—even give up his life. She must have believed he forgot what happened; otherwise she wouldn’t avoid him.
He tried apologizing casually in the hallway, but his presence drew teasing:
“Wolfgang’s picking a fight with a Venomain again!”
Soon a crowd gathered—and Irene slipped away before he could reach her.
He hated himself for all he’d done. But couldn’t avoid her either—especially with his reputation in their families on the line.
One afternoon, he worked up courage. He left a bouquet of deep purple lobelia (symbolizing “malice”) and an anonymous note under her desk, asking her to meet on the roof at 5 PM.
He caught her at 2 PM, cheeks subtly flushed as she quietly took note and flowers. Hope filled him—three hours to prepare.
At 5 PM, he found her on the roof—but about twenty students surrounded her, curious about the surprise.
She spoke calmly:
“I saw your gift. Good guess, Wolfgang.”
She held a wooden training sword, eyes sharp.
“Let’s have a match—swordfight or bare-handed.”
Students booed and cheered.
He protested:
“Bare-handed?! What?”
She replied:
“You issued the challenge. I figured you wanted your test.”
And added:
“The lobelia flower has the meaning ‘malice’. I guessed right.”
Embarrassed, Edmond realized how foolish he’d been.
The duel began. He chose swordplay—but she outclassed him utterly. She won. When she strode off, the crowd echoed her victory.
Edmond lay drained on the roof, tasting defeat’s bitterness.
He spent the entire night crying into his pillow.
At breakfast the next day, a classmate whispered:
“Hey, did you hear? Irene Venomain got engaged—to Tession Rihalar!”
Edmond dropped his teacup in shock.
“What did you say?”
