I turned slowly. They stood behind me without a sound, like shadows intruding into the light. I didn't know when they had entered — the doorway had been closed — but what mattered was how the air changed with their arrival: it grew thicker and colder, not a passing chill but a frost that crept into the bones, into something deeper… into the very soul. I shivered. For the first time in my life I felt my spirit tremble, and that was enough to tell me I faced a power beyond measure.
— Why me?
First I failed to enter the World Academy. Then I was nearly thrown away as a test subject. And now… this stranger stood before me. Was this my last home?
His voice pierced me like a blade through flesh:
"Young one… I have a question. You'd better answer honestly; the soul… does not lie."
My tongue froze. I could not form a word; my reply was a slow nod. His voice was not ordinary; he spoke as if driving his words into the depths of my secrets.
"How are you still alive?" he stared at me with terrifying cold. "There is a tremendous glacial energy in your body… your small frame is not meant to contain it."
Those words overturned me. I remembered what I had heard from Min-Su's memories, and the "System" that spoke of three remaining years. I answered in a trembling voice, with absolute honesty:
"Sir… I do not know. I only know I am ill; my body is always weak… and sometimes I feel an inner cold that does not go away."
He was silent for a moment, then shook his head lightly as one reads a decayed manuscript. He spoke a word half deduction, half concession:
"Ah… illness or a frozen constitution? In any case… your answer is truthful, though you hide something. I will overlook it this time."
Short breaths filled my chest, but the relief did not last. He stepped forward one more pace and took my hand. I tried to pull away but could not. A chill seeped through me, as if my soul were being examined, turned over, read. Then he released my hand and stepped back.
"Good… what is your name again?" he asked.
Before I could answer, the other man spoke in a low voice:
"Sir… his name is Arin."
The man turned slowly. A single look from him could stop a heart. Then something I could not bear happened: the other man dropped to his knees before him and let out a stammered apology.
"I apologize, sir, for my intrusion… I swear I will not repeat it."
The man nodded once, then regarded me again with a majestic chill. I knew my turn had come, so I answered in a tone laced with the respect I wished to show:
"My name… Arin, sir."
He smiled faintly in approval, then raised his hand and drew the covering from his face.
The blood in my veins froze.
White hair like snow, eyes as red as blood. Features unforgettable. It was him — the name whispered with fear: Miro. One of the most fearsome villains in this world. A name tied to the Dawn Order, a sorcerer of rank eight — nearer to a dark saint. My heart dropped to my feet.
He asked in a dry, cold tone:
"Finished staring?"
I bowed quickly; I could not remain standing before that dreadful visage.
"I apologize… your imposing presence is mesmerizing, sir."
He shrugged indifferently, then said with a weighty mystery:
"I am not interested in men's stares. My name is Miro. Arin… will you accept becoming my formal apprentice?"
The word hit me like a bomb. I had never heard of Miro taking an apprentice. A margin note from memory surfaced: he had had an apprentice who died two years ago. Could I be his replacement? Would this be my fate? Death or salvation?
I hesitated, and the cold in Miro's voice seemed to deepen.
"What? Does the offer displease you?"
I felt the ground vanish beneath my feet. I had no choice; my life was the priority.
"I apologize, sir… I meant no disrespect. I… am astonished that someone of your greatness would consider accepting me."
A faint smile touched his features, and he said in a convincingly cold tone:
"So you agree?"
I nodded quickly:
"Yes… sir. It is a great honor."
A brief hush fell. Then he broke the silence in a smooth, frosty voice:
"Remember… being accepted by a sorcerer of saintly rank is no ordinary matter. Do not belittle yourself or embarrass me."
I hesitated, then finally asked the question that had been on my lips:
"Why did you accept me, sir?"
He gave a soft laugh, like someone who holds a key he is not yet ready to show:
"You will learn in time. And I will also discover whether you are worthy of becoming my official apprentice."
The phrase "official apprentice" carried another meaning: a binding commitment, integration into a larger web of power, a restraint that was also a shield. I felt responsibility flow like cold blood through my veins.
He did not let me dwell on my thoughts for long. Suddenly he spoke a testing sentence:
"I heard you had retired to this village. Do you want me to destroy it?"
I recoiled: "No! This is the village where I grew up. I do not want it destroyed."
There was something in the tone of his question that turned the answer into a moral test. Despite my hatred for Jim and the corrupt system here, I was not willing to cross a line that would make me the destroyer of my home. Even if its people were narrow and petty, they were the place that had taught me to stand.
Miro muttered as if taking notes: "Tender-hearted then… disappointing."
Then he said in a cold, procedural manner:
"At first… Harvey will take you and teach you the basics. When you are ready… I will begin your training myself. Then I will decide if you are worthy."
Mention of Harvey laid out a plan: conventional training followed by a personal test from Miro. It made sense, yet my dream was to enter the Academy, and with Min-Su's memories I was sure I could perform well and grow stronger.
I hesitated, then formed the most important question on my lips:
"Sir… will you allow me to go to the World Academy?"
He raised an eyebrow; his red eyes seemed to weigh the idea with the scale of justice.
"Why?"
I replied with a boldness I had not expected from myself:
"It is my dream. There I will learn the fundamentals from the best teachers in the world."
A long silence, as if time hesitated. Then he smiled — a small, enigmatic smile:
"Your dream… yes, dreams are important. Very well, you may have that. Perhaps a visit to the Academy is a suitable step. And perhaps… that old woman there knows a better way to treat you. I sense your body will not tolerate this cold energy for long, so be careful."
His words were a veiled warning. An offer, an invitation, and a caution all at once.
Miro vanished from the cabin quietly, leaving behind a trace of frost in the air. The other man — the one who had knelt — rose awkwardly and spoke his name in a low voice: "I will take care of him, sir."
I heard the name Harvey mentioned as the next move.
Before I could think further, Miro's words echoed in my head: "I will know if you are worthy."
That phrase was not merely a promise; it was a decision carving out my future.