Chapter – 23
It was as if shards of malice had flown out from the printed letters and struck Hyacinth—
all the color drained from her face in an instant.
Her skin turned pale.
She looked down at the suddenly gaunt face she now wore, filled with questions, and asked her teacher:
“Then… then why is that child still locked up in there?”
“You’ll know if you read to the end.”
“……”
Hyacinth unconsciously pulled her gaze away from the journal.
Her fingertips trembled as if she wanted to drop the thing right now.
The shock looked enormous.
She hesitated for a long time before her eyes met mine.
Those confused red-brown irises stared at me, and perhaps she took courage from that insignificant act—
she drew a deep, slow breath and began to read aloud.
“Success!
The researcher in charge of verifying the numbers came running to us, half in ecstasy, half in terror.
50%.
Exactly half—no more, no less—stared back at us like a pure, unaltered truth.
The experiment had succeeded. Now all we had to do was observe the results.
That’s what everyone thought.
Myself included.
Kalam Castruna laughed at us.
‘So this is all the Tower has left—nothing but the useless ones.’
Her voice was small, clearly meant for herself alone, yet every syllable struck my ears.
And the moment her words ended, the immortal shed half its body as if sloughing off dead skin, then regenerated the missing half again.
The same failure as the countless ones before.
Had our hypothesis been wrong?
Months of work down the drain—no one could hide their disappointment.
Some couldn’t hide their irritation, others lashed out at whatever was nearby.
I felt the accumulated exhaustion pounding in my temples.
As for Kalam Castruna, she simply said:
‘Do you really think that thing actually split in half?’
Leaving behind only those ominous words, she walked away.”
“The experiment to divide the immortal into halves collapsed.
Of the original thirty, half were reduced again.
Despite the irresistible lure of something as fascinating as ‘that which does not die.’
Despite the fact that only one hypothesis had failed.
Despite the fact that we could try again and again.
Their behavior was bizarre for scholars of magic.
They hurriedly packed their belongings and fled the research lab as if running for their lives.
I knew why.
I understood.
They feared Kalam Castruna.
The esteemed figures of the Tower—terrified by a woman who hardly looked older than thirty.
Exactly seven researchers remained, including me.
All of us exhausted, aimless, following whatever personal curiosity happened to tug at us.
I was no different.
Among us were those whose actions could hardly be called ‘research.’
Adol.
Yes. The one who vented his frustrations on the immortal even during the experiments.
Kalam Castruna seemed almost pleased with him—
or rather, with what he did to the test subject.
She egged him on with quiet words:
‘Do it this way; more blood will come out.’
‘If you extract the marrow first, it hurts more.’
‘Squeeze the organs—maybe it’ll scream.’
‘Isn’t that what you want?’
It was horrific advice.
Drenched in the creature’s blood, wearing a smile full of madness, Adol had long since departed from anything resembling a proper mage.
One researcher quit today, disgust twisting his face so fiercely I’ll never forget it.
Six remained.”
Hyacinth flipped the page—then suddenly tilted her head.
“The writing got weird.”
“The writing?”
“It looks shaky. Like something shocking happened. I’ll keep reading…”
“…How did I not notice until now?
Now that I’ve realized it, I can’t look away.
The same unchanged experiment logs had worn me down.
Restless and stifled, I looked up at the ceiling without thinking.
There I saw it—
a swarm of black currents, clustered together like insects, swirling overhead.
And then Kalam Castruna looked at me.
I knew instantly.
That thing—
that was what she wanted.
And the moment she realized I’d noticed it, she would kill me.
Terror surged through me, yet somehow I kept a straight face.
Some instinct for survival, perhaps.
Thankfully, she did nothing.
It seemed she hadn’t noticed.
For several days I observed the black currents, always wary of her.
They grew larger with each passing day.
Neither mana nor divinity—
something my limited knowledge could not identify.
I soon learned how it formed.
Adol, lost in his mindless cruelty as usual, performed another of his brutal acts.
And from the limp body of the subject, something formless drifted upward and gathered on the ceiling.
The black current—
Yes. It devoured it, swelling further.
It was not hard to guess why Kalam Castruna encouraged Adol’s actions.
Today, she finally left the room.
I put my plan into motion.
Some sense of duty—
perhaps a scholar’s curiosity—
compelled me to uncover the nature of that black current.
What was it, that she desired so badly?
I levitated myself up carefully and touched its surface with my staff.
Nothing happened.
Impatient, I touched it with my hand.
Immediately, the blackness flowed through my fingertips, flooding my whole body.
If I hadn’t pulled away in time… I cannot imagine what would’ve happened.
It was so sticky, foul, terrifying, nauseating—
hate, disgust, pain, bitterness, horror—
Just one drop.
One drop on my fingertip nearly made me faint.
And I understood:
It was the test subject’s negative emotions, condensed into a physical form.
Whenever I looked at the test subject after that, guilt gnawed at me.
I was one of the perpetrators—
I had no right to feel anything, and yet the emotion kept clawing up inside me.
The child still showed no reaction, no matter what was done to their body.
But the current rising after each experiment—
that felt like its silent scream.
Thoughts can sometimes manifest miracles on their own.
For the subject, it was merely emotion.
But when emotion accumulates into a cloud that fills the ceiling—
That is another matter.
A drop smaller than a fingertip had nearly undone me.
And the ceiling was saturated with it.
If someone used it—
…Used?
…Kalam Castruna.
Now I understood, if only the faint outline.
She planned to use that thing for something.
And nothing good would come of it.
Using that as a medium—
even the collapse of this facility wouldn’t be the end.
A curse, an explosion, something unimaginable—
The Tower, the entire city—
all would fall within its radius.
More terrifying was the feeling that she sought something far greater than even that.
The city was in danger.
I decided to quit the experiment.
Today.
I will report everything to the Tower Master.
I doubt I’ll avoid punishment—
I’d be lucky if it stopped at punishment—
but none of that matters anymore.
I didn’t tell them everything, but when I declared my intention to stop,
four researchers agreed.
They had long grown weary of Castruna and this experiment.
Four who follow me.
Six researchers in total, counting myself.
One remains.
Of course.
Adol.
He ignored my warnings.
Something feels wrong.
So I leave this journal here.
In the innermost corner of the Seventh Incubation Chamber.
Room Seven is where they toss the useless scraps.
She has no interest in that place. It should be safe.
Now I go.”
Hyacinth flipped through the remaining pages—
but half the book was blank.
“I think that’s the end,” she said.
The moment she spoke,
a blue hologram flickered to life.
**『Load.
Experiment of the Undying.
You have uncovered the secret of the Experiment of the Undying.
Conducted by the Remidia Frontoise school, the experiment began with pure academic curiosity—
but due to one individual’s interference, it has grown into a threat to the Tower and the entire city of Keindea.
You have also realized the nature of the eerie presence filling the facility:
the condensed torrent of negative emotions.
Depending on how it is used, it possesses enough power to consume an entire city.
You may now choose—
interfere with or aid the one called “Kalam Castruna,”
or leave Keindea altogether.
The Messenger respects your choice.
A word of advice: whatever you choose, act swiftly.
…Though it may already be too late.』**
As we finished reading,
the clack of footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor.
A figure soon emerged.
A navy dress trailing along the floor.
A face so pale it washed out her beautiful features entirely.
That alone was enough to recognize who she was.
A chill raced down my arms.
“Well, well. You’ve written something interesting,” she said.
Kalam Castruna had arrived.
