Someone stepped out from behind the bookshelf, looking down at me with a disinterested expression.
“Wh-Who are you?!”
The person stared down at me as I lay on the ground and replied dully.
“That’s what I’d like to ask.”
His tone was utterly flat. Through the ash-colored hair that partially covered his forehead, I could glimpse tired-looking eyes.
As I stood frozen in disbelief, he tilted his head and muttered.
“Oh… no way. Lady Celine?”
“…”
“Not Celine, huh.”
I slowly got up, wincing as the pain from falling on my rear set in. While brushing the dust off my skirt, I glanced at the man who continued muttering to himself.
“…Selvia? Selophane? Selulina? Celestina?”
How could he get so close and still be completely wrong? I couldn’t take it anymore and spoke up.
“…It’s Selene.”
“Ah, right. Lady Cecilia.”
I let out a short sigh and looked at him.
The man slowly set the book he was holding on the floor and took a step toward me.
Instinctively, I stepped back and eyed him warily.
For some reason, he looked quite intrigued, his pitch-black eyes gleaming against his strikingly pale skin.
Then the corners of his lips curved slightly as he spoke.
“Well… this is a pleasant surprise. Didn’t expect to run into you here, my lady. We met at the welcome ceremony, right?”
His voice was slow and languid, the kind that would make an impatient person grind their teeth.
“What, don’t remember? I did a fire show, and you laughed so hard.”
What in the world was he talking about?
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, and he simply shrugged.
“Now, now, don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who barged into someone else’s bedroom.”
“Excuse me? This is a library.”
Though my voice was sharp, he didn’t seem the least bit surprised.
Instead, he let out a snide little laugh.
“Right. A library. But since I sleep here, it’s my bedroom.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?”
His eyes curved mischievously as he chuckled.
“How is it nonsense?”
Then, his expression turned cold as he continued in an eerie tone.
“…Thanks to your father, who doesn’t give a damn about employee welfare, I’ve been rotting away here for a week now.”
“Ro-rotting…?”
“Yeah. I joined the knight order expecting something noble, but the workload’s just like some third-rate mercenary band.”
His eyes blazed with frustration as he glared into the void.
But it wasn’t long before he went back to his bored, expressionless self and muttered as if annoyed.
“Don’t know if you remember, but the name’s Ansen. As you can see, I’ve been worked to the bone, so excuse the mess.”
I glanced at the pale hand he held out toward me, then instinctively took another step back.
—
A few minutes later.
“What do you think is the most important thing when it comes to working, my lady?”
Startled by the sudden question, I looked at Ansen while leaning against the bookshelf. He’d been focused on something ever since we bumped into each other.
‘…What is this, a job interview?’
Still, I began counting on my fingers as I mumbled.
“When it comes to work… I guess the most important thing is work-life balance?”
Ansen narrowed his eyes at that.
“Work-life… what?”
Snapping back to my senses, I clarified.
“Oh, it’s short for work-life balance. It means being able to maintain your personal life while working.”
Something I couldn’t even dream of in my past life.
Ansen let out an “Ah-ha” sound, seemingly understanding. He nodded slowly, then turned to me.
“That’s perfect.”
“…What is?”
“It’ll be the perfect thing to bring up when I finally escape from here and confront your father.”
I stared at Ansen, dumbfounded.
‘…This guy is definitely a bit crazy.’
I had guessed from his words that he worked under my father, but now that I looked closely, his appearance was unusual too.
Especially the way he wore a raggedy robe over his shaggy gray hair made him look like…
“Caterpillar…”
The word slipped out without thinking, and I quickly slapped a hand over my mouth.
But Ansen had already stopped flipping through his book and was looking right at me.
“…What did you just say?”
“Ah, nothing.”
I tried to play it off and quickly picked up a random book nearby, flipping it open in embarrassment.
But a few seconds later, I slowly looked back up.
There was something I’d been curious about since earlier.
“…Ansen, you’re a Manifestor, right?”
He turned slightly and tilted his head. I hurried to continue.
“You know, at the welcome ceremony—you said you showed me a fire show. I, I just remembered! That’s a supernatural ability, right? Isn’t it?”
He paused, then shrugged with a blank face.
“Who knows. ‘Supernatural ability’ sounds a bit dramatic. Most people just call it a weird trick or something creepy.”
“What?”
“Well, calling it an ability sounds too grand. That kind of title suits nobles, not someone like me, a commoner.”
He gave a self-deprecating smile. Alarmed, I quickly shook my head.
“Hey, that’s not true. An ability is an ability. You’re a Manifestor, Ansen—and you control fire!”
I had just read it in a book. While there are many Manifestors who handle elements, fire users are extremely rare.
In other words, Ansen was remarkable.
He gave me a strange look, then reluctantly nodded.
“Technically, yes. I do control fire.”
I swallowed hard. Somehow, I could understand his reaction.
The book had said that supernatural abilities had been passed down through royal bloodlines.
Meaning it was a power typically reserved for the elite.
If a commoner manifested such an ability?
It would undermine the prestige of the royals.
‘So that’s why commoner Manifestors rarely call it a true ability…’
What is this, some Hong Gil-dong situation?
For the first time, I felt a pang of sympathy for this ragged-looking man.
Noticing my gaze, he responded as if it were nothing.
“I don’t really care. My ability’s not that great anyway. But maybe…”
I looked at him curiously as he trailed off.
“But maybe what?”
But Ansen just shook his head.
“…Forget it. It’s nothing.”
Why did he stop mid-sentence?
“What is it? Tell me. If it’s nothing, then say it.”
Ansen looked at me—eyes shining with interest—then sighed.
“You really are your father’s daughter. That obsessive nature runs deep.”
“Excuse me?”
Me, like that terrifying man?
I glared at him with raised eyebrows. He relented with a lazy reply.
“It’s nothing really. I was just preparing something. But I lost it a few days ago.”
“You lost it? What was it?”
He stared at me, then slowly raised one hand. With a slight flick of his fingers, he gestured for me to look closely.
Wondering what he was getting at, I leaned forward to examine his palm—and then—
A crimson flame burst forth right in front of me.
“AAAH!”
I quickly jumped back.
“What the hell! Stop that!! You trying to burn this place down?!”
Seeing my terrified expression, Ansen calmly closed his palm, and the fire vanished.
A scorch mark lingered on the ceiling where the flame had licked it.
I stood frozen in shock as Ansen said flatly,
“That’s my ability. Or trick, whatever.”
I swallowed the nagging words rising to my throat and gave a small nod.
“But your father… he wants something more impressive, I guess.”
“Something more impressive? Like what?”
Ansen slowly raised his hand into the air again.
I tensed, bracing for more flames, but instead, he simply made a “pew—” sound and smacked his hand onto the floor.
Before I could react to the absurdity, he explained.
“Like big fireballs dropping, explosions—stuff your father would love.”
“…?”
“Things useful for killing people in war.”
My eyes widened, but Ansen didn’t seem fazed.
“So I came up with a fun idea.”
I leaned in cautiously.
“What if there were a potion that could amplify abilities momentarily?”
I jumped to my feet. Ansen looked up at me, puzzled.
“Was my idea that moving?”
“T-Tell me more!”
“It’s nothing that fancy. I just made some rough estimates. I’ve dabbled in alchemy and concoctions.”
He shrugged, adding, “That’s how I ended up here, actually.”
“Anyway, after some experimenting, I came up with something useful…”
“You mean you succeeded in making it?!”
“…Yeah. In theory, at least. Just a small amount can drastically amplify one’s ability…”
“How small are we talking?!”
Ansen gave me a strange look for interrupting him so much, then answered.
“If the concentration is 100%, then… maybe a drop or two. Anything more would be extremely dangerous.”
I screamed inwardly.
The potion Ansen had created was without a doubt—the Tear of God I’d been searching for.
