Rick sat alone in the narrow room, its emptiness pressing down on him like a weight. Two chairs. One table. Nothing else. Guards had escorted him here without a word, leaving him to face the certainty already forming in his mind.
Expulsion.
There was no doubt about it. After today, the academy would cast him out. Rick leaned back, staring at the wall, wondering what came next—where should he go after getting expelled from the academy.
The door creaked open.
Rick looked up to see Instructor Nick standing there.
Nick closed the door behind him and took the chair opposite Rick, his movements calm but heavy with authority.
"So," Nick said quietly, folding his hands. "Tell me why you attacked Vein."
Rick was silent for a long moment. Then he shrugged.
"Well… nothing special. I just wanted to spar with him."
Nick's eyes hardened.
"You know the academy forbids sparring outside the sparring halls."
"Oh. Really?" Rick replied flatly. "Didn't know that. My fault."
The room fell into a suffocating silence.
Suddenly—
BOOM.
A crushing pressure slammed down on Rick, forcing him into the chair. The air itself felt heavier, as if the room were trying to crush him.
Nick's mana flooded the space.
"Do you think I'm a fool?" Nick snapped.
Rick gritted his teeth. His knees trembled. Every muscle screamed as he struggled to remain upright, pouring his own mana inward just to keep breathing.
"Vein is hospitalized," Nick continued coldly. "You shattered his hand. His skull is fractured. We don't even know if healers can fully repair the damage. And you tell me this was just a spar?"
Rick clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms.
"Accidents happen," he muttered. "Sometimes… things can go too far."
Nick stared at him for a long time.
Then he sighed.
The crushing pressure vanished.
Rick sucked in a deep breath, his lungs burning as he struggled to steady himself.
Nick stood and turned toward the door.
Rick exhaled sharply. "Can I go now?" he asked, still catching his breath. "I've got things to pack."
Nick stopped.
Slowly, he turned back, eyes sharp enough to cut.
"Pack?" Nick repeated. "Why would you be packing?"
Rick stared at Instructor Nick, confusion flickering across his face.
"You should be grateful," Nick said quietly.
Rick frowned. "For what?"
"For Lina."
Nick's voice was firm, but not unkind. "She watched the fight. After you were detained, she told us everything—what Vein did to her, how she asked you for help. Because of her testimony, your actions were no longer seen as unprovoked."
Rick's chest tightened.
"Don't misunderstand me," Nick continued. "What you did was not justified. Brutality is still brutality. But because Lina spoke up… your punishment has been reduced."
Nick straightened. "From today, you are confined here for one week. No classes. No training. Complete isolation."
With that, he turned and left the room, the door closing softly behind him.
Rick sat frozen, the silence pressing in.
She covered for me…
After a long while, a quiet laugh escaped his lips—thin, bitter, disbelieving.
"I can't believe she did that," he whispered.
Thus began Rick's seven days of confinement.
Outside those walls, the academy buzzed with rumors.
Some whispered that Vein had abused his noble status, that his cruelty had finally caught up to him. Others spoke of Rick as a monster—an uncontrollable brute who nearly killed another student.
The truth fractured into a hundred versions.
Vein was expelled that day.
Hospitalized in the city of Leon, his recovery uncertain, healers still working tirelessly to repair the damage.
Within the headmaster's office, two figures sat across from each other, steam curling from untouched cups of tea.
Nuel Van Aldrich, Headmaster of the Academy and an Eight-Circle mage, broke the silence.
"I can't believe you allowed it to go that far," he said calmly.
Instructor Nick didn't look away. "I was heading to class when I heard a girl crying. So, I stopped. I listened."
Nuel's brow furrowed slightly.
"She was talking about ending her life," Nick continued, his voice tight. "Fifteen years old. Do you know what it felt like to hear that?"
He clenched his fist. "I was furious. Disgusted. A student was suffering like that under our watch."
Silence fell.
"I nearly acted on impulse," Nick admitted. "But I remembered my position. My duty."
"I was in the classroom," Instructor Nick said quietly, eyes lowered, "thinking about how I could help her. And then Rick burst in—crashing through the window, tackling Vein to the ground."
Nick's voice tightened.
"The moment I saw Rick's eyes, I knew. His anger wasn't reckless—it was focused. So I ordered the other instructors not to interfere. I thought… I could use the situation as grounds to expel Vein."
Nuel Van Aldrich listened in silence, fingers wrapped around his teacup.
"But it didn't go as planned," Nick continued. "Vein was being beaten brutally by Rick. And still… I didn't stop it."
Nick bowed his head. "No matter the reason, I used a student as my pawn. I am prepared to accept any punishment."
For a long moment, only the soft clink of porcelain filled the room.
Then Nuel smiled faintly.
"Don't worry about it too much," he said, sipping his tea. "What surprised me was not your mistake—but that you, of all people, used your authority to reduce a student's punishment."
Nick stiffened.
"I am ashamed," he admitted.
Nuel's smile faded. "As you should be. But shame alone won't resolve what's coming."
Nick looked up. "You mean Viscount Mrock."
"Yes." Nuel stood and walked toward the window. "What do you think he will say when he sees his son in that condition?"
Nick's jaw tightened. "I heard he has already left the Duchy of Flich. He's on his way here."
"He will demand answers," Nuel said calmly.
Nick clenched his fists. "Despite how his son treated others… Viscount Mrock is nothing like him. He does not toy with lives."
"I hope you're right," Nuel replied. "For everyone's sake."
Two days passed like a held breath.
Then, the knock came.
"May I come in, my lord?" a servant asked from beyond the door.
"Enter," Nuel said sharply.
The servant bowed deeply. "My lord, Viscount Mrock has arrived in the city and requests an immediate audience."
Nuel straightened. "Escort the Viscount here."
"Yes, my lord."
The servant withdrew.
Moments later, the door opened again.
A tall man stepped inside—dressed in dark formal attire, his presence commanding without excess. His eyes were calm, calculating… and cold with restrained grief.
Viscount Mrock.
"Welcome, Viscount Mrock," Nuel Van Aldrich said warmly, lifting his teacup. "How was your journey to the academy?"
"I am grateful you granted me an audience, Lord Nuel," Mrock replied, placing one hand over his chest in a restrained bow. His posture was dignified, but the strain beneath it was unmistakable.
"Don't be so formal," Nuel said with a faint smile. "Come. Sit. Share a drink with this old man."
Mrock accepted the invitation, lowering himself into the chair and taking a careful sip of tea.
"By the way," Nuel added casually, "how is Duke Noel?"
" He is fine." Mrock said casually. "Currently he is researching on a new potion."
Mrock's fingers tightened around the cup.
"I see," Nuel murmured. "Well, knowing him i am sure he will succeed since he is a talented brat who can reach the level of Ten-Star Mage or maybe,.....Even Eleven-Star, rivaling the Gret Sage from The Great Empire." sipping tea from his cup.
Silence stretched between them for a while.
"You needn't worry," Mrock said at last, his voice low. "I am not here for vengeance. I know the academy cannot change its judgment after what my son did."
"I see." Nuel said. "So, how is your son."
"He is… alive," Mrock replied gently. "Physically, he will recover. Healers have already done their work. But his mind…" Noel trailed off. "Fear has taken root. He is outside now, unable to step inside these walls."
Nuel studied him carefully. "Then why are you here?"
Mrock inhaled deeply. "I wish to meet the student who defeated him. Rick."
Nuel's expression sharpened. "That is not a simple request."
"I know," Mrock said quickly. "Please understand—I have no intention of harming him. I only wish to speak. To ask for his help."
Nuel raised an eyebrow. "Help?"
"My son's body may heal," Mrock said, his voice cracking despite his effort to remain composed, "but his spirit is broken. He wakes screaming. He refuses food. He trembles at the sound of footsteps."
Mrock stood abruptly, bowing deeply.
"I beg you," he said. "Rick is the only one who can treat him the reason for my son's fear."
The proud Viscount's shoulders trembled.
Nuel exhaled slowly.
"Being a father is cruel work," he said softly.
He turned toward the door. "Blaze."
A servant entered immediately. "You called, my lord?"
"Escort Viscount Mrock," Noel said, rising from his chair, "to the place where student Rick is confined."
Blaze bowed. "At once, my lord."
"Thank you," Viscount Mrock said in a low, steady voice. "I will remember your kindness."
With that, both Mrock and Blaze left the room, leaving Nuel alone—quietly sipping his tea as though nothing extraordinary had occurred.
After a long walk through cold stone corridors, Mrock finally arrived at the chamber where Rick was being detained.
He entered without hesitation.
Rick was on the floor, doing push-ups, sweat dripping onto the stone beneath him. The sound of the door opening made him stop. He rose quickly, instinctively alert, eyes narrowing as he studied the unfamiliar man standing before him.
"…Who are you?" Rick asked.
"I am Mrock Van Lither," the man replied calmly. "Father of Vein."
Rick stiffened instantly.
"Oh," Rick said, wiping sweat from his brow. "So… you're here for your son."
Mrock nodded and moved to the chair near the wall, sitting down slowly. "Yes. But before that—shall we talk?"
Rick hesitated, then sat opposite him.
Silence filled the room, thick and uncomfortable.
Then Mrock spoke.
"I loved only one woman in my entire life," he said quietly. "Vein's mother."
Rick listened without interrupting.
"She died giving birth to him," Mrock continued. "From that day on, Vein became my entire world."
His voice wavered. "I fulfilled his every wish. I overlooked every misdeed. I told myself it was love… but it was weakness."
Mrock lowered his head.
"That was my greatest mistake."
Rick's jaw tightened.
"If I had disciplined him," Mrock said, "if I had taught him fear before the world did… perhaps things would not have come to this."
He looked up, eyes heavy with shame.
"I know it is shameless to ask this after what he did," Mrock said softly. "But please—save my child."
Rick's breath caught.
"He trembles constantly," Mrock continued. "He does not respond when spoken to. Fear has taken deep root in his mind."
Mrock stood.
Then—slowly, painfully—he bowed.
A Viscount.
Bowing to a student.
"I beg you," Mrock said, voice breaking. "This is the first time he has ever done something like this and I swear to you—it will be the last."
Rick stared at him.
The room felt unbearably small.
"…Why me?" Rick asked quietly.
"Because," Mrock replied, lifting his head, "you are the one he fears."
Rick clenched his fists.
He remembered Vein's face—arrogance shattering into terror, confidence replaced by something hollow and broken.
"I never wanted him to end up like this," Rick said.
"I know," Mrock answered.
The Viscount bowed again—deeper this time.
"Please," he whispered. "Help my son."
Rick closed his eyes.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—
"…Can you send him in."
The words were quiet, but they carried weight.
Mrock froze for a heartbeat—then his face broke with relief. "Of course. I will send him immediately."
He clasped Rick's hand with both of his, gratitude trembling through his fingers. With one final bow, the Viscount left the room in haste.
Moments later, the door opened again.
Vein entered.
At first, he didn't notice Rick.
But the moment his eyes landed on him—
His knees nearly gave out.
"F-Father!" Vein cried, his voice breaking as terror flooded his face. "Let me out—he's here! That monster is here!"
He stumbled backward, pounding on the door with shaking fists. "Please! Let me out! He'll kill me!"
Rick spoke calmly.
"Vein."
Vein didn't hear him.
Then Rick's voice cracked through the room like a whip.
"Shut the HELL UP AND SIT DOWN NOW." in a loud voice
Vein froze.
The screaming stopped instantly.
He turned slowly, eyes wide, breath uneven, then collapsed into the chair—silent, trembling, fear coursing through every inch of his body.
Vein's body shook as he sat in the chair, fingers clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. His breathing was uneven, broken, like a child who had run too far and could not stop crying—yet no tears came. Only fear.
Rick watched him in silence.
That silence was worse than shouting.
"So…" Rick finally said, his voice low and calm, "how are you?"
Vein swallowed hard.
"I… I'm fine," he whispered.
It was a lie so weak it barely existed.
Rick leaned forward slightly.
"Your hands are shaking," he said. "Your voice is breaking. Your heart is pounding so loudly I can almost hear it."
He paused.
"You're not fine."
Vein's shoulders trembled.
"I heard everything from your father," Rick continued. "He told me this was the first time you crossed the line this badly."
Rick's eyes hardened.
"But tell me—does that erase what you did?"
Vein opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
"You're terrified right now," Rick said quietly. "Because you think you might die."
Rick's fist struck the table.
The sound echoed.
Vein flinched violently, a broken gasp tearing from his throat.
"Good," Rick said coldly. "Remember this feeling."
Rick stood.
"Now imagine her," he continued. "Alone. Crying. Thinking there was no way out. Thinking the world would be better without her."
Rick's voice shook for the first time.
"She was fifteen."
Vein's breath stopped.
"She wasn't shaking because she feared death," Rick said. "She was shaking because she wanted it."
Tears finally fell.
Vein covered his face, his body folding inward like it might collapse under the weight of those words.
Rick stared at him.
"I heard you lost your mother the day you were born," Rick said more softly.
Vein's sobs grew louder.
"I know you look at her picture," Rick went on. "Every night. Wondering what she would've said to you. Wondering if she would've loved you."
Vein crying harder, remembering his mother he never met.
"I do the same," Rick whispered.
Vein looked up.
"I lost mine too."
The room fell silent.
"I am sure you heard the servants talk about her when you were a child," Rick said. "Things like, she was gentle. Kind. The kind of woman who smiled even when she was tired."
Rick leaned closer.
"Tell me," he asked quietly, "is that the kind of son she would've wanted?"
Vein broke completely.
He cried, falling to his knees. "I didn't think— I didn't know— I didn't mean—"
His words dissolved into sobs.
Rick didn't move.
"You might be wondering how I know all this," Rick said softly.
Vein looked up through tears.
"Your father."
Rick's voice cracked.
"A man who bowed to me," he said. "A Viscount who begged on his knees for his child."
Rick clenched his fists.
"When a man who get on his knee despite having the power in front of a commoner, tell us just how kind he is… And that kind of man can only fall in love with a kinder woman."
Rick looked down at Vein.
"She would be ashamed of you if she were alive" he said.
"But she would still want you to live."
Vein pressed his forehead to the floor.
"I don't deserve it," he whispered.
Rick closed his eyes.
"No," he said quietly. "You don't."
Vein's chest tightened in fear.
"But if I turn my back on you now," Rick continued, "then I become no better than the people who let you turn into this."
Rick turned away, his voice heavy.
"You will face the consequences," he said. "You will apologize. You will change."
Rick looked back at him.
"And if you ever hurt someone like that again…"
The air froze.
"I won't stop next time."
Tears finally broke free.
They slid down Vein's face one after another, silent, unstoppable. His lips trembled, but he didn't dare make a sound—as if even his sobs had lost the right to exist.
Rick watched him.
"So now," Rick said quietly, his voice colder than before, "answer me this."
Vein lifted his head just enough to listen.
"What do you think the people of this academy think of you?"
Rick took a step closer.
"Your servants. Your territory. Your father."
Rick paused.
"And most of all… your mother."
The word struck Vein harder than any blow.
His breath hitched. His shoulders shook once—then stopped.
Rick's expression did not soften.
Vein said nothing.
He only stared at the table, knuckles white, as if the answer was carved into its surface. The trembling in his body slowly faded, not because the fear was gone—but because he had nothing left to give it.
"Vein," Rick said at last.
Vein flinched.
"If you want forgiveness," Rick continued, his voice steady, unyielding, "then you must first ask forgiveness from every single person you hurt."
Rick turned away.
"Only then," he said, "will you deserve to stand free."
Rick dropped to the floor again and resumed his push-ups, each movement calm, controlled—unmoved.
"Now leave."
Vein stood.
For a moment, he looked at Rick—really looked at him—as if trying to carve this image into his heart forever.
Then he bowed.
Not as a noble.
Not as a son of a Viscount.
But as a broken human being.
Without a single word, Vein turned and walked toward the door.
At the threshold, he stopped.
His hands trembled again—just slightly.
He didn't look back.
And then he was gone.
Viscount Mrock followed, pausing briefly to glance at Rick. His eyes held gratitude, regret, and a pain too deep for words. He bowed once and left as well.
The door closed.
The room fell silent.
Rick continued his push-ups.
One.
Two.
Three.
The incident was over.
But for Vein—
It had only just begun.