The group walked quietly away from the garden. Tomas joined them at the exit, his face pale with worry after witnessing the confrontation from a distance.
Crossing beneath a gravel-decorated archway that led away from the main Academy grounds, they moved beyond the reach of prying eyes. The tension began to ease from their shoulders as the distance grew between them and the noble courtyard.
It was then that Hileya's steps began to slow. Her pace became uneven, hesitant. Finally, she stopped walking altogether.
Her breathing was short and quick, coming in shallow gasps.
"It's all my fault," she whispered.
Everyone turned back to look at her. The weight of their attention only seemed to make her distress worse.
"I tried to help. I was getting ahead of myself." Her voice trembled with each word. "I was careless. I was... useless."
"I wasn't able to protect myself but also involved young master—"
"I'm sorry—" She couldn't even finish the sentence, her pitch rising high before cascading into a sob.
"The whole Academy will soon know about this," Hileya continued through her tears. "Not only have I failed my task, I made your situation worse."
Konomi and Tomas exchanged uncomfortable glances before looking away, unsure how to handle the emotional outburst from someone they barely knew.
Celia let out a soft sigh, tilted her head thoughtfully, then gestured for Vel to come closer to Hileya.
Vel looked between them, then took a careful breath before approaching. He showed an empathetic smile as he walked closer to Hileya's trembling form. He paused a moment in front of her, considering his words carefully.
Gently, Vel placed a hand on Hileya's shoulder. She flinched almost immediately, starting to retreat from his touch—as if she thought she didn't deserve his care.
"Hileya." Vel's voice was soft, patient.
"Have you ever cut yourself when you first started learning to cook?"
"Does the food taste good the first time you make it?"
Hileya looked up, confusion replacing some of the despair in her tear-filled eyes. The unexpected questions seemed to break through her spiral of self-blame.
"I couldn't protect my old village," Vel continued quietly. "Celia tripped and fell many times while practicing her footwork."
"Mistakes are part of growth. Avoiding mistakes is different from being afraid of mistakes."
"You were doing what you thought was right at the time, taking initiative even." Vel's voice remained gentle but firm. "I could say it's me to blame for allowing you to perform such a task. But who to blame is not the matter. We both understood the risks."
Vel watched as understanding slowly began to show in Hileya's eyes, her breathing starting to steady.
"But what if the mistake is too severe?" Hileya's voice was barely above a whisper. "What if it's irreversible?"
"Then we'll deal with it together. You, me, and our friends." Vel's voice carried quiet conviction. "Learn from it. Prepare yourself better next time, find the best way forward."
He paused, his expression softening as he looked at her. "The point is, I'm here with you, whatever comes next."
The sentence came out a bit too honest, revealing more than he'd intended. From the corner of his eye, Vel caught Celia giving him a pointed side-eye.
He'd meant he would be there for each mistake, to help her learn and grow. But judging by the expressions around him, everyone listening had understood it very differently.
Celia slowly shook her head but said nothing.
Vel waited for Hileya to process his words. She began to wipe the tears from her cheeks, her breathing gradually steadying.
Vel thought maybe he should try to lighten the atmosphere a bit.
"Now stop crying, or I'll send you back to Elnor," he said with a smile, his tone clearly meant as a joke.
Instead of the small laugh he'd hoped for, Hileya started wailing. She buried her face into Vel's chest, her shoulders shaking with renewed sobs.
"Please don't say anything like that!" she cried into his shirt.
"I was obviously joking!" Vel said quickly, his eyes wide with alarm.
"Seriously, Vel," Celia finally spoke, her tone carrying both exasperation and disbelief.
As Hileya's sobs gradually quieted, still pressed against Vel's chest, Konomi cleared her throat softly.
"I'm curious," Konomi said, breaking the emotional tension. "How did you come by such an item?"
"This?" Vel held up the envelope, carefully extracting himself from Hileya's grip while keeping a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
He opened the envelope and peered inside. "Oh. It's actually empty."
Of course it was empty—he hadn't written anything when transferring it to Hileya's pocket the moment he came within vicinity to allow such interaction through his interface.
"It's actually an old relic," Vel explained, examining the ornate parchment. "This could date back even before King Garnos. I'm not sure the order still uses such things. Luckily, the students didn't think twice about it."
"Why does it look so new?" Tomas finally spoke up, his voice still shaky from witnessing the confrontation.
Vel paused, thinking quickly. "It was... part of a historical collection I came by while exploring Lona alone."
Realizing he was treading on dangerous ground with more questions, Vel quickly shifted topics. "I have something to discuss with everyone. Let's find somewhere to sit."
---
They settled around a weathered stone table in a quiet corner of the Academy grounds, far from the prying eyes of other students. Vel positioned himself between Hileya and Celia, while Tomas took a seat next to Konomi. The afternoon sun filtered through nearby trees, dappling the carved surface and creating a sense of privacy despite being outdoors.
"No more work for you today," Vel had told Hileya firmly. "Just relax."
She nodded quietly, still subdued from the earlier confrontation, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she stared at the stone table's surface.
But Vel's head couldn't stop thinking.
What if he couldn't show up next time? She would have been bound to accept whatever those students accused her of. He might have saved her this time, but what about the next time? What would happen to Hileya then?
In this world—the world that he had unintentionally and cruelly created—politics wouldn't always provide the answer. At some point, things would escalate into violence whether he wanted it or not. He needed to prepare Hileya better. No, he must.
Vel leaned forward slightly, breaking the comfortable silence.
"Anyone here know what happens to students who show no sign of elemental affinity during the entrance test?"
Tomas shifted uncomfortably. "I was just happy the artifact showed any sign at all," he admitted quietly.
Celia shook her head. "I wouldn't know anything about that."
Which left...
Konomi slowly spoke up, her voice thoughtful. "It's... actually not uncommon for non-combatant students. Like me."
Vel leaned closer, his interest clearly piqued. "You have no elemental attunement?"
"I do. But this was my choice, to be in the Alchemy class. It's my family tradition, actually."
"So... what happened to the others?"
"You remember they were led to a different area, right?" Konomi asked.
Vel nodded.
"It was to be away from public scrutiny. They were presented with a choice."
"What choice that needs to be so secret?"
Konomi took a deep breath. "To sign yourself into 'apprentice-ship,' or choose a different path for your life."
Everyone tilted their heads. Vel had never heard of such a concept before.
"The Academy has several paths for unattuned students," Konomi continued, tracing patterns on the stone table with her finger. "Some return after three years to try again—their attunements might develop later. Others become apprentices or attendants to established mages."
"Like servants?" Celia asked, glancing meaningfully at Hileya, who shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Not just normal service—they sign magical contracts," Konomi said, her voice dropping lower. She leaned forward slightly, as if sharing a secret.
"The kind that bind them with their master."
Vel frowned, his hands tightening on the edge of the stone table. "Isn't that... slavery?"
Konomi winced and glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. "They hate when you call it that. But if someone wants to pursue magehood, it's often the quickest path."
"How come?" Tomas asked, leaning in with obvious curiosity.
"The contract shares the attendant's mind and body with their master," Konomi explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "In return, they might inherit the master's attunement growth. Their magical pathways align over time."
She paused, glancing around the table before continuing. "But here's the thing - there are dozens of candidates for every willing master. Those who accept will enter a... selection ceremony."
"Selection events?" Tomas echoed, unease creeping into his voice.
"Think of it like an auction, but the masters are the buyers choosing from available candidates." Konomi's expression grew uncomfortable. "Masters can set whatever terms they want - length of service, specific duties, even... personal requirements."
Hileya's hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white as she listened to every word.
"That's very unsettling," Vel said, his brow furrowing. "What if they're incompatible with the master? Let's say they're more attuned to water while the master is fire."
"Then it takes much longer until they get influenced by the master," Konomi replied with a shrug.
Vel's expression darkened as the implications sank in. So it was basically giving up who they were and reshaping their whole identity. What would separate them from their master then? Their personality would change, and thus their attunement.
"They can break the contract, right?" Tomas asked, shifting uneasily in his seat.
"Let me guess—it's still a gray area where the master has to agree to it," Vel spoke before Konomi could answer.
She nodded solemnly.
Vel's gaze drifted to Hileya, who was listening to every word with rapt attention. Her silver braids had fallen forward, partially concealing her face, but he could see her lips pressed into a thin line.
"May I ask how you know about these things?" Vel asked, turning back to Konomi.
Konomi's fingers stopped tracing patterns on the stone. "The very ink to sign that contract is invented by the Alchemy Guild."
Vel's mind raced with possibilities. The magical contract Konomi described could potentially unlock Hileya's attunement. With his guidance, she might develop abilities that would transform her life beyond servitude.
But something about it felt deeply wrong.
"Some people just have a desire to exert power over another, just because they can," Vel said quietly, his gaze distant. "Like that Roderick guy. What if these 'masters' are just like him?"
Konomi's expression grew darker. "You won't know what people are willing to do to achieve power. I've seen students practically beg to be bound to powerful mages. Offering... anything."
The way she emphasized the last word made Vel's stomach turn.
"Power without purpose is meaningless," Vel responded, leaning back against the stone bench. "You reach the top and find nothing there but emptiness." Like designing a game where the only goal was to level up—with no story, no challenge, no reason.
Tomas shifted uncomfortably, his voice quiet and hesitant. "I mean... you do have more options than most of us. Your sister being a Saint, Lady Halen's support..." He trailed off, looking down at his hands. "Not everyone has those kinds of connections."
His words stung because they held truth. Vel had advantages he sometimes took for granted.
For the first time since the conversation began, Hileya finally spoke up, her voice quiet but steady. "Young master, some might choose such arrangements willingly, if the alternative is having no path forward at all."
Celia leaned forward, her expression growing intense. "Without it, you're helpless. To be stepped on and have no way to save yourself. To accept whatever fate throws at you."
Celia's words settled over them, heavy and undeniable.
Vel thought of his time in Oakhaven before the Wulfang attack—how powerless he'd felt watching events unfold, knowing what was coming but unable to change it. He remembered Landre bound in the Ossuary, Trinon standing over her with his ritual dagger. The crushing sensation of his own blood pooling beneath him as he failed to save her.
"You're right," Vel admitted softly. "Without power, we're at the mercy of those who have it."
Vel stared at his hands resting on the stone table, torn between two philosophies. It felt almost hypocritical. He had always fought against exploitative systems, yet here he was, contemplating how to help Hileya—was it truly for her benefit, or was he simply considering how to exploit what Hileya could potentially become?
Was he any different from the Academy? Just another person deciding what path someone else should take?
"Hileya," Vel said, breaking through the silence. "I've asked you this before, but after today I need to ask again. What do you actually want?"
She looked up, confusion flickering across her features. "Young master?"
"I mean for yourself. Forget Lady Halen's orders, forget helping me with information." Vel leaned forward slightly. "If you could choose anything, what would it be?"
Hileya's mouth opened, then closed. She stared at him as if the question itself was foreign.
Finally, she spoke. "I want to matter."
The words hit Vel harder than he'd expected. Simple, direct, profound.
A memory surfaced—himself hunched over code late at night, building Aeonalus. "To matter." Isn't that why he had created his game? He hadn't cared about money or fame when he started crafting this world, just the need to create something that would outlast him. Something that would prove he'd existed, that he'd contributed something meaningful to the world.
The realization struck him: they wanted the same thing. Purpose. Significance. The chance to leave a mark that said 'I was here.'
Power had never been the point. And neither had fame.
Vel closed his eyes and let out a long breath. The weight of understanding settled over him, bringing with it an unexpected peace.
When he opened his eyes again, he looked directly at Hileya.
"That settles it," he said quietly. "Hileya, your choice is your own. However it was influenced."
She tilted her head slightly, watching him with those attentive eyes that seemed to take in everything.
"For me, it seems unjust, unfair," Vel continued, gesturing vaguely toward the Academy buildings in the distance. "But for you, it might be the only way forward."
Hileya's expression softened. "Young master..."
"When the time comes, choose what's best for yourself," Vel told her firmly. "Not what I think is best. Not what Lady Halen expects. What you believe will help you matter in the way you want to."
Something shifted in Hileya's posture—a subtle straightening of her spine, a new certainty in her stance. She didn't smile, exactly, but her eyes held a clarity that hadn't been there before.
"I understand," she said simply.
Vel nodded, feeling strangely lighter. He couldn't control everything in this world—couldn't reshape it entirely to match his ideals. But he could offer choices where he had the power to do so.
Hileya set down her hands flat on the stone table, her posture suddenly decisive.
"Then I want to sign the contract."
Vel's head snapped up, staring at her as if she'd suddenly started speaking another language. "What?"
"A magical contract," Hileya clarified, her eyes fixed on Vel with unwavering certainty. "Like the one you were just discussing."
"Didn't you hear what it would do to you?" Celia asked, leaning forward with concern.
Vel's mouth opened and closed several times before he found his voice again. "Who would you even sign the contract with?"
Hileya's answer was exactly what he was afraid of.
"You, young master."
Vel ran a hand through his hair, feeling a growing sense of panic. He had brought this on himself, hadn't he? He'd been trying to make Hileya understand she should make her own choices, not become his... wait, what exactly was she trying to become?
"You're the only person I fully trust with this," Hileya said, tilting her head as she studied his expression. "Or would you rather it be someone else?"
"Of course not!" Vel overreacted, his voice rising slightly. He looked around the table, seeking support from the others.
"Technically speaking..." Konomi began hesitantly, adjusting her position on the stone bench, "she's not wrong. The contract would give her exactly what she's asking for—growth potential while maintaining her current role."
Celia's fingers drummed against her folded arms as she considered this.
"I don't like it," Celia muttered, arms folded tight. "But if her choices are between you and whatever creep she'd end up with otherwise..."
She shook her head. "I'd pick you too."
Vel stared at Celia, startled by her words. A slight blush colored her cheeks as she looked away, her fingers nervously twisting a strand of her hair.
Feeling completely outmaneuvered by Hileya's unexpected logic and everyone else's reluctant support, Vel raised his hands in surrender.
"Alright, alright," he conceded with a sigh. "But let me research more about these contracts first—their limitations, consequences, everything."
He looked around the table. "Who should I even contact about such matters anyway?"
"Believe it or not," Konomi replied, "Nema the merchant—our landlord—might have that special ink. Most contract facilitators do."
Celia shot Vel a pointed look, as if this entire debacle was somehow his fault for bringing up the topic in the first place.
"For now, let's return to training," Vel said, standing from the stone bench and brushing off his uniform. "We'll continue this... discussion... another time." He gave Hileya a meaningful look.
Hileya's smile was subtle but genuine. She nodded in understanding, returning to her usual composed demeanor—though Vel noticed she sat a bit straighter now, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.