There are some things in the world better kept secret.
For instance, the fact that I have mastered the runic language or that I can understand runes.
Other than that, there’s probably just the detail that I can interpret them.
But in most cases, there’s no need to worry too much about it.
The decoding of the divine language, a mystery for all mages.
The declaration that I achieved it at the mere age of eight.
If revealed, it’s bound to make life spectacularly complicated.
Who, in their right mind, would boldly announce such information in public?
‘…This is driving me crazy.’
The calamity I brought upon myself weighs heavily on me.
Love calls have been pouring in from all directions, but I would rather die than entertain any of them.
It’s not as if I hid my deciphering of runes without a reason.
Understanding something and teaching it are entirely different matters.
It lies purely in the realm of intuition.
I didn’t decode runes so much as I happened to develop an instinctual understanding of their context by chance.
As a result, when it comes to teaching runes to others, I have no choice but to rely on primitive methods.
Writing down every possible case in essays and having people memorize them.
Most of the runes don’t even have corresponding characters in the imperial language, which makes the task headache-inducing.
Organizing just nine runes took me three whole months.
A stupidly labor-intensive process.
At this rate, creating and distributing interpretations for the tens of thousands of runic characters would be impossible.
This story should have ended there.
But the crucial point is that I consumed the elixir of immortality.
The item that the swordsmanship lecture students had fed me last time.
Since I was more likely to die from an accident than natural causes, I thought it was meaningless, but its effects turned out to be undeniable.
‘If anyone finds out that I don’t age…’
The love calls directed at me would transform from desperate pleas to chilling declarations of obsessive confinement.
If I devoted tens of thousands of years to interpreting runes, humanity would truly conquer magic.
Sacrifice for the greater good.
Dedicate your life to fulfilling humanity’s ultimate desire.
I would be forced into a tiny room, unable to die, reduced to a machine churning out rune interpretations for the rest of my life.
The thought alone made my hands and feet tremble.
Fortunately, nothing has been revealed yet.
But on top of runes, I have fully mastered the magic system of demons as well.
Just enduring life in this horrendous academy-world was overwhelming enough.
Now, the bad ending routes of being confined or executed as a heretic were wide open.
Not only do I have to avoid getting caught for consuming the elixir, but I also have to keep the demon magic system a secret.
It’s a hard mode that feels like it’s about to drive me insane at any moment.
The swordsmanship lecture students probably won’t go around blabbing about my secrets, and I can just hide the demon magic part.
But even leaving those aside, the first issue is the biggest problem.
For someone who deciphered runes to get fired, just how big of a scandal would I need to cause?
Just imagining it made my lips involuntarily turn downward.
‘If I drink again after watching this disaster unfold in real time, then I’m no longer human—I’m a dog!’
Clenching my teeth, I vow to myself once more.
Though I do vaguely remember breaking a similar promise in my past life and barking “woof woof,” this time, I’m truly serious.
Because I had someone to ground me and keep my resolve in check.
The person I look to for a reminder to stay alert.
The middle-aged stalker who was born from this very mistake.
***
“It’s about time you head back. It’s cold out.”
Trailing behind me incessantly is none other than Merlin, the old man.
We’ve made it all the way to the doorstep of my lodging now.
Just as I’m about to enter and calm my nerves, he’s still sticking close behind me, begging.
Ignoring the puppy-like, shining eyes of someone who’s been abandoned, I firmly shut the door to my lodging.
But, as expected, I couldn’t feel at ease.
Being told to give up on one’s dreams by someone they admired.
It would be a lie to say that didn’t leave a trauma, but I know he said it for my sake.
He had strongly tried to bring me to my senses by stating reality.
Yet, upon seeing my hurt expression, his conscience pricked him belatedly.
In exchange for the harsh truth, he awkwardly offered some nuts and snacks as consolation.
She had also handed me a flower.
‘That man is still there…’
The scenery beyond the window caught my eye.
Despite being told to leave, the middle-aged man was still waiting for me with unwavering patience.
It was oddly distracting, making it impossible to focus on anything else.
In the end, I gave in, packing the stew I had made for my hangover into a lunchbox and stepping outside to declare my surrender.
“I can give you some advice on interpretation techniques. But please, do not spread any rumors about me taking you on as a disciple or anything like that.”
At my words, Merlin’s face lit up with emotion, and he nodded fervently.
Tears streamed down his cheeks.
The middle-aged man, with eyes brimming with tears, looked up at me with an expression so overwhelming it was almost burdensome.
“I doubted you and turned you away, yet here you are, still thinking of my dignity…”
My request to keep this quiet—so as not to tarnish my reputation—was misinterpreted as me being considerate of his pride.
Those eyes of his were dangerous.
They carried the resolve to repay a favor even if it meant disregarding my wishes.
Having seen what people with such a look in their eyes could do, I tried to stop him immediately.
But it was impossible.
Even though his clinging seemed pitiful, Merlin was an unmatched magician among humans.
Unlike me, his physical abilities were exceptional as well.
‘How could I possibly stop such a person?’
All I could do was watch him leave.
***
The absurdity of the situation weighed heavily on me, filling me with frustration.
I admitted that a significant portion of the blame lay with me, but how could my luck be this awful?
‘Why did my shirt have to disappear at that exact moment, making me misunderstand the situation? This is honestly just bad luck!’
When I woke up, my shirt was gone.
Since I couldn’t find my clothes anywhere despite looking around, it wasn’t unreasonable for me to have misunderstood.
If only I hadn’t succumbed to strange drunken delusions about exposure and the like, things wouldn’t have gotten this messy.
While grumbling to myself, I finished washing the dishes.
When I turned around, there they were—the shirt and tie I had been searching for.
But instead of chastising myself for missing them, I asked the obvious question:
“Why are you holding those?”
Standing there was none other than the great progenitor dragon, with her snow-white hair and massive horns.
She had crept into my lodging to secretly return my clothes.
Our eyes met, and an unbearably awkward silence ensued.
The progenitor dragon looked as though she had committed the gravest of crimes, her expression filled with guilt.
But her explanation, surprisingly, was reasonable and plausible.
“Don’t misunderstand! You were sleeping outside the door without a shirt, so I just moved you to your bed! I absentmindedly took your clothes and came back to return them!”
Apparently, in my drunken state, I had passed out on the ground and, finding my shirt stifling, had taken it off to sleep more comfortably.
The humiliation was beyond words.
Feeling ashamed of my momentary, absurd suspicions toward her, I struggled to find the words to apologize.
While I contemplated how to apologize, I noticed something strange about Sion’s expression.
She kept avoiding my gaze.
When I continued staring at her, the guilty dragon, clearly flustered, confessed with hesitation.
“Well… there may have been some slight contact when I moved you, but I swear I didn’t have any improper intentions! I couldn’t just leave you there to catch a cold, could I?”
Be it humans or dragons, no one can live with a guilty conscience.
Especially someone as upright as her.
My gaze remained one of reproach.
I knew the real mistake she had made, but Sion misunderstood it entirely and desperately tried to justify herself.
“I might have touched your chest a few times, but you were mumbling in your sleep about being cold! I was just trying to share some warmth, nothing more!”
Tearing up, Sion pleaded for me to believe her.
But this time, my look of reproach was genuine.
The progenitor dragon began to panic.
Eventually, unable to withstand the pressure, she squeezed her eyes shut and blurted out,
“This is all your fault! You keep tempting me with that increasingly… alluring body of yours!”
Her burst of emotion didn’t last long.
Reality soon returned, and she realized what she had just said.
Her face turned a deep shade of red as she objectively reviewed her own actions.
…It was an epic self-destruction, almost pitiful to witness.