Chapter 5:
“Hey, when did I ever look away? I didn’t!”
“Oh? Michael’s coming. Let’s sit down.”
“Hey!”
Ayla’s shout was ignored as smoothly as water flowing. Damian sat down, and Ayla sat next to him. Ayla stared at him in disbelief. She was about to yell at him again, but had to close her mouth as Michael approached. Michael laid out several herbs on the table.
“These are herbs with rather unique smells. They’re distinguishable by scent since they don’t smell like regular medicinal herbs. Would you like to try smelling them one by one, Senior Ayla?”
“Huh? Me?”
“You’re the only one who remembers the scent.”
At Michael’s words, Ayla had no choice but to pick up the herbs. She carefully sniffed them one by one. Each had such a unique odor that it made her nose feel numb, and she wanted to give up. But she couldn’t ignore the stares focused solely on her. She tried to recall the smell from her memory as she went through the herbs, and then stopped at the fifth one. The scent, etched into her memory like a brand, resurfaced clearly.
This was it.
“This one.”
Michael’s face as he looked at the herb Ayla pointed to was hard to read. It seemed tense. He made eye contact with Damian and spoke gravely.
“This herb… is banned for medicinal use.”
Silence fell. Ayla and Damian said nothing. They couldn’t.
“It was originally used in extremely small amounts to make powerful painkillers, but due to its addictive properties, it has since been prohibited. It can only be harvested from ruins, and not just any ruins—only royal tombs. Because of its danger, it was harvested only under the supervision of three departments: the Department of Magic, the Ministry of Justice, and the Department of Culture and Arts. It’s now banned entirely, but back when it was allowed, the legal amount was strictly regulated. So unless it’s in a huge amount…”
After a pause, Michael stated firmly:
“If the scent is strong enough to cling to clothes or a body, then it couldn’t have come from a small amount.”
“…Which means it was either made using an excessive amount,”
Ayla continued Damian’s thought,
“Or someone has been regularly taking a drug made with this herb.”
“Yes. Repeatedly.”
“Is there a substitute for this herb?”
To Damian’s question, Michael shook his head.
“None at the moment.”
A chilling stillness settled over the herb storage room. All three of them arrived at the same conclusion: either someone illegally created a drug using a banned herb or someone had been regularly consuming a drug made from it.
The forbidden had reached deep into the heart of the Empire—into the Academy, the symbol of scholarship and power. Of course, while illegal, the Empire couldn’t completely stop shady dealings in back alleys. But this was a different matter. Someone had harvested a large quantity of the herb from government-managed ruins and used it to produce an illicit drug. That meant someone had broken through the Mage Tower’s security and entered a ruin—this was now a national security issue, not just an Academy problem.
Ayla turned to look at Damian. He was staring at the herb, seemingly lost in thought. She asked Michael:
“Is cultivation possible?”
“It’s been attempted before, but all efforts failed. It’s safe to say it can’t be cultivated.”
The ruins were from the once-glorious magical empire, the Radia Empire. These ruins had started appearing centuries ago, all protected by magic. The state managed them through a joint effort between the Ministry of Magic and the Department of Culture and Arts. But since magic was essential, the primary responsibility fell on the Magic Department. Most of the work done by mages dispatched from the Mage Tower involved ruin management.
Especially the ruins identified as the royal tombs of the Radia Empire—those were under strict supervision. High-ranking officials from the Mage Tower directly managed them. That’s why at least one high-ranking mage was always dispatched to each site.
But this herb, found only in royal tombs and now impossible to harvest, had reappeared. It couldn’t be cultivated. It had only ever been harvested under the control of three government departments. That meant someone in those departments was involved. They were the only ones who even knew of this herb’s existence. Someone among them had broken into the ruins. If they dug further into this…
“Ayla.”
The voice pulled her from her thoughts. Damian, who had been deep in thought, now looked at her. His expression was deadly serious.
“Do you remember what Gilrotta looked like?”
“Of course I do.”
“How did he look?”
“Why?”
“Just tell me.”
“Well… I’d say he had a strong build.”
“Hair color?”
“Wasn’t it black?”
“…”
Damian didn’t respond. Ayla looked at him in confusion. He locked eyes with her and slowly began to speak.
“Ayla.”
“Yeah?”
“Gilrotta’s hair isn’t black. It’s brown.”
“…What?”
“It’s always been brown. And though you might not know, even now in his fourth year, he’s never been strongly built. If anything, he’s rather small.”
That couldn’t be. The figure Ayla had seen three days ago in the classroom looked exactly like the person she’d seen in Kyelum. She tried to object.
“No way. In the classroom, he definitely had black hair and a sturdy build.”
“Then it wasn’t Gilrotta.”
The answer came from Michael. Ayla felt like she’d been struck in the head. The person she saw in both Kyelum and the classroom wasn’t Gilrotta. Then… who was he?
“It was an artifact. And when you bumped into him, the physical contact let you see through the illusion to his true form.”
“…Damian.”
She called his name with a soft, trembling voice. One terrifying thought passed through her mind. That unknown person had used an artifact to hide their real identity and had infiltrated the Academy pretending to be Gilrotta. So then, where was the real Gilrotta?
Gilrotta had been missing from the Academy for three days. But if someone else had been impersonating him, then he might have disappeared five days ago—or even earlier.
Missing.
But if someone else had taken his place… or worse…
“…Is Gilrotta still alive?”
A heavy silence crushed them. Damian sank into thought again. Ayla felt the tips of her fingers grow cold. She had never experienced anything like this. She wasn’t supposed to. Her dream had been to become an imperial civil servant. She’d even started giving up on being valedictorian, thinking that just graduating as salutatorian would be enough to achieve her goal. But now, everything had changed. If she pursued this case, she was sure to see a side of the world she had never imagined—ugly and corrupt.
A world Ayla, raised as a noble lady, had never known.
Perhaps sensing her turmoil, Damian tightly gripped her hand. Ayla looked at him. Just knowing he was by her side—just holding his hand—spread warmth and reassurance through her. Her cold fingers were growing warm with his touch.
Michael watched the two of them nervously. He swallowed hard and said in a tense voice:
“We should inform the security corps.”
“…No. If we do that, we’ll definitely lose the trail. And they won’t move for a simple missing persons case anyway.”
Damian, still deep in thought, responded.
“Then what do we do? You’re not saying we just let this go, are you, Senior Damian?”
“If we assume Gilrotta isn’t alive anymore, then they must’ve disposed of the body.”
“If they burned it, only ashes would be left.”
Now calm again, Ayla was able to voice the horrible thought.
“No, they wouldn’t burn it. They’d need to leave a trace. If it involves more than just one person, they’d want to set an example.”
Damian countered, unnervingly composed and rational. His face showed no emotion. Ayla found this side of Damian strangely unfamiliar.
“What kind of example are we talking about? It’s not what I’m thinking… is it?”
“You’re probably right. It’s a warning: ‘This could happen to you too.’”
“Then if we try to trace them…”
Michael couldn’t finish his sentence. He exhaled heavily and ran a hand down his face. All he’d agreed to do was help identify a herb, but somehow he’d uncovered something he never wanted to know. This was far too heavy for a mere Academy student to handle. He didn’t want any part of it. He just wanted to finish school quietly.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of this, seniors. I don’t know anything.”
Michael shook his head, as if trying to empty it of everything he’d just heard. He then tidied up the herbs neatly, left one last request for Damian, and hurried out of the herb storage room.
“Please make sure to lock the door on your way out, Senior Damian. As if nothing ever happened.”
For Damian, that was easier than closing his eyes.
Silence engulfed the herb storage room. Ayla quietly stared at the table. Thanks to Michael’s meticulous cleaning, the white table looked pristine—without a single speck of dust. Her mind grew more tangled. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know. It wasn’t just anyone—it could be a student from the Academy who had disappeared, or worse, been murdered. More than that, this could drag the Empire’s darkest secrets into the light. She couldn’t look away from any of it.
Breaking the silence, Ayla asked:
“Damian. What are you planning to do?”
It was then that something flashed in the air. A yellow butterfly fluttered its wings in front of Damian. Ayla recognized it—she’d seen it before.
Damian stared at the butterfly with a hardened expression. The yellow butterfly, a mass of his magical energy, had been watching the department office.
