“I can’t let her keep strutting around like this. I won’t allow her to keep polluting my sacred ground.”
As she walked, Bémore gnawed on her fingertip, rage burning silently within.
Every time she saw Samimi showing off, it made her skin crawl. The memories of the past twisted in her chest—she couldn’t shake the feeling that Samimi had always seen her as some fool to toy with.
And yet, despite cursing nonstop in her heart, Bémore didn’t actually do anything. Instead, she returned to her room to dive back into studying magic—silently swearing to defeat Samimi in a head-on battle one day.
Such was the nature of a socially anxious girl—harmless on the outside, burning with wrath on the inside. She dreamed of defeating the Penitent Nun fairly, never even considering underhanded tactics.
“Bémore, there you are.”
“The President and Vice President want to see you.”
No sooner had Bémore stepped back into the grand castle of the Fire Magic School than she was intercepted by a group of stern-faced upperclasswomen, who promptly dragged her into the school’s secret meeting chamber.
Inside the dim chamber were only two figures: the orange-haired President, seated on the Flame Throne, and the red-haired Vice President, standing at her side.
“President, Vice President… May I ask why you called for me?”
Bémore blinked, confused.
“The school has a mission for you,” the Red Lion said sharply.
“Bémore Joshua, child,” the Orange Lion said in a much gentler tone, “We are assigning you an important task.”
“A mission? What is it? If it’s a task from the school, I will devote myself to it with everything I have!”
Bémore’s heart leapt. Could this be her big break?!
“We want you to infiltrate the Darkmoon Dormitory, act as our agent, and uncover the Penitent Nun’s spellcasting secrets,” the Orange Lion explained.
“Ah…”
The joy drained from Bémore’s face like someone had flipped a switch.
The Fire School had no idea she was actually a famous member of an elite hero squad in the outside world. And here in the noble world of mages, secular fame was considered shameful. Even if she’d saved the world, the mages here wouldn’t acknowledge it—they saw themselves as the real saviors of humanity. After all, wasn’t this school known as the “last stronghold of the human race”?
Anyway, back on topic.
The Fire School didn’t know about her grudge against Samimi. Sending her to the Darkmoon Dorm was basically tossing her into a pit of fire.
But she couldn’t just tell them that, could she? If she admitted her past conflict with Samimi, they’d suspect her of having ulterior motives.
Worse, she’d be forever excluded from the Fire School’s inner circle. She’d never learn advanced flame magic—doomed to remain a nobody.
“What’s the matter? Problem?”
The Vice President narrowed her eyes coldly.
This was a mission with near-zero survival odds. They hadn’t summoned her to negotiate—they were giving her a command. Refuse, and she could pack her things and get lost.
As for why they chose her? Bémore had a hunch—it was probably because of her reputation as the “White-Haired Witch.” It wouldn’t feel out of place to stick a weirdo like her into the dorm full of misfits.
“No problem. I feel… deeply honored.”
She forced a trembling smile, cold sweat beading on her brow, and accepted the mission.
“Joshua, we have high hopes for you. If you complete this mission, I’ll promote you to School Secretary. You’ll work directly under me,” the Orange Lion said.
At that, Bémore’s eyes lit up. Her gaze sharpened.
The School Secretary was second only to the President and Vice President—and working directly under the President meant access to high-level flame magic and secret knowledge.
This was her chance to rise like a phoenix! A humble duckling soaring into the skies!
“And even if you can’t uncover her secrets, that’s fine,” the Orange Lion added. “A mage’s secrets are more precious than life itself. They’re not easily uncovered. Your real mission is to embed yourself within the Darkmoon Dorm. Blend in.”
“President? Why?”
Bémore tilted her head.
“Because we plan to provoke them. We’re confident we’ll lure the Penitent Nun into another duel. When that time comes, you’ll already be embedded in her team. Then you strike—a fatal betrayal to restore the Fire School’s honor.”
The Orange Lion’s voice was eerily calm, though her words revealed a cruel scheme.
“I see.”
Outwardly, Bémore stayed composed. Inwardly, she was shocked.
“Only the two of us know of this mission. Here’s your dorm transfer paperwork. Think of your own excuse—you’ll figure it out.”
The Orange Lion handed her a folder, prepared down to the last detail.
Bémore took the folder respectfully with both hands.
The President suddenly stood, placed a hand on her shoulder, and said softly—yet solemnly:
“Joshua, of all the junior girls, I see the most promise in you. You’re not from a magical family, so by rights you wouldn’t have this chance. But I’m giving you a rare promotion. Don’t let me down.”
Magical families—lineages that passed down arcane knowledge for generations.
In the mage world, they were like nobles, perhaps even more revered. They held the secrets of magic’s foundations—knowledge that ordinary mages could never touch, no matter how hard they worked.
This was a deal Bémore couldn’t refuse.
Unless she planned to give up entirely and stagnate forever, there was only one path forward: this one.
The Millennia Magic Academy held a near-monopoly on magical knowledge, and the true essence of that knowledge rested in the hands of these noble families.
“I won’t let the school down,” Bémore replied.
“No. Don’t let me down.”
The Orange Lion’s face went cold. “You’re going to be my secretary. Don’t forget who gave you this opportunity.”
“I-I won’t forget the President’s kindness,” Bémore stammered, nearly wetting herself.
“Good. Off you go.”
At last, the Orange Lion dismissed her.
Classic PUA tactics—but Bémore had no idea what psychological manipulation was.
She had been fully gaslit and converted.
All that filled her heart now was one thought:
Do something big. I’m going to do something big!
Back in her dorm, Bémore packed up all her belongings into a giant satchel. Without hesitation, she headed straight to her mission site.
She left behind the luxurious and grandiose Fire School dormitories, distancing herself from the central teaching castle, and marched toward the lonely, remote Darkmoon Dorm, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the plains.
It took at least thirty minutes just to walk from there to the main castle every morning. No one wanted to live there.
At that very moment, the shy, socially anxious girl died forever.
In her place, a delusional, corrupted mage, twisted by a rigid and rotten system, was born.
“You forced me into this… Samimi!”
All the goodness in Bémore’s heart had vanished.
Only one thing remained—an unrestrained hunger for power.
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