“You’re not even going to ask whether I made it up?” he asked casually, lifting the paper before her.
“I couldn’t care less—as long as I’ve got something on record explaining why I approved your request,” she retorted sharply, though there was no real edge beneath her voice.
“You really are ice-cold, Naramie,” he teased, folding the paper with the same lack of care before returning it to his small sling bag.
“Though, that’s precisely why I enjoy talking to you.”
“If this is you enjoying yourself, I’d hate to see you chatting up the receptionist at the Seirai Guild,” she clipped out, fixing him with a dry, unimpressed look.
“So—what is it about this boy that made you think he deserves a place on the Reco team?”
Her eyes flicked to Kisatsu, then back to Thanduin as she leaned slightly over the counter, raising an expectant brow.
“Let me guess—regeneration?”
“Bingo,” Thanduin said, easing out with a theatrical snap of his fingers.
She gave him the same deadpan look as before, then sighed, leaning back in her wheeled chair.
“Of course,” she drawled with resigned dryness.
“Just because someone can do something you can’t doesn’t automatically make them Reco material.
Mind you, I won’t pretend it isn’t useful—you’re simply making them easier to shortlist.” She pushed her eyeglasses gently up her nose.
“Regenerators aren’t exactly rare these days.”
“Well, at least it means they’re hard to kill,” he reasoned.
“And—this isn’t Rage-induced regeneration.”
Her gaze flickered to him once more.
“Oh?
A natural type, then?
That is uncommon.
Who’s the boy?” She leaned slightly to one side to peer past him at Kisatsu, a hint of curiosity—almost interest—touching her visage.
“He’s from the Vurgemond family.
The surname sounds familiar—does it ring a bell?
His name is Kisatsu.”
She turned to Thanduin and gave a gentle, lazy shake of her head.
“Nope.
Doesn’t ring any bells.
I might’ve seen it in passing somewhere—but if so, I’ve long since forgotten.” She pulled out an admission form and set it on the table.
Kisatsu stepped forward to write on it.
“Here.” She tapped a ballpen softly against the paper.
“Fill in what you can.
You don’t need to write over anything, just the sections you’re able to answer.
Leave the reason box to your adviser.”
“I’ll have Harlan sign it,” Thanduin said.
“Approval will take a few days.
And don’t assume it’s guaranteed,” she muttered, watching Kisatsu hesitate.
“If you want to improve your odds, put demonstrate in person in the reason section instead.”
“So…
I’d meet the evaluators myself?” he asked, glancing at her, then back at the paper.
“That’s right.
If they decide to assess you early, count yourself lucky,” she said, leaning back with a quiet sigh.
“But don’t worry, you won’t be on your own—this year’s evaluation covers four candidates.
You included.”
Just four, huh?
he thought, doubt creasing his forehead.
Well…
if I don’t make it, I’ll manage as a regular.
No need to rush things if I’m not sure I can keep up.
We want nothing more than for you to be safe and well.
Anneliese’s words came back to him, voice as clear and warm as daylight.
A small smile formed on his lips.
She just wants me to be safe.
That’s all, he thought, his hand hovering over the paper.
Shione’s image slipped into his mind.
A flicker of genuine gratitude crossed his face—he still hadn’t forgotten what she looked like.
You didn’t really want this for me, Mom.
Then Ryurei and the priest surfaced as the final thought he clung to—a memory etched in his heart.
His gaze hardened on the paper, hand tightening around the pen.
I’ll do whatever it takes to bring you back.
I won’t stop.
***
Six days earlier, Thanduin stirred awake in his bed, pain blooming through his battered body.
The Partian’s teeth lingered on his wound like a bear trap left set, tearing away flesh—though in truth, it was only pain that throbbed.
He lay beneath the blanket of darkness until his eyes slowly adjusted.
The moon hung in the sky, veiled behind thick curtains as he gazed through, alone in the medical room—until he wasn’t.
It felt as though someone were watching him, though not with malicious intent.
“What is it, Harlan?” Thanduin’s voice echoed softly as he turned toward the darkness, eyes still not fully adjusted.
“You really can sense someone even while resting, can’t you?” he said, voice low, emerging from the shadows.
“But I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He stepped away from the wall and moved closer, footsteps deliberate, deadened into an eerie quiet.
His presence was harmless, yet there was a faint, unsettling air to it.
“Has the Partian been successfully transferred to the Entity Containment Zone?” Thanduin asked.
“Not yet.”
“The boy?”
“Alive.”
His gaze drifted forward slowly, then out the window.
“I see.” His voice lacked its usual firmness.
“Are you planning to make him a knight?” Harlan asked.
Thanduin turned back to him, Harlan’s face now illumined by the pale blue moonlight.
“I’ve…
considered recommending him,” he murmured hesitantly.
“What do you think?”
“Before I answer that—what did you see in him?”
There was only one thing that came to mind—Kisatsu stepping in to protect him from the Partian.
That sheer bravery was etched into Thanduin’s mind, making the answer come easily.
“A stubborn, powerless brat who thought he could save someone just by being brave…” He paused, gaze dropping in shame.
“…and he actually did.”
“Powerless, eh?” Harlan repeated, pacing the room in slow, measured circles.
“Well, if he really were powerless, he should’ve died, don’t you think?
In fact—he was already dead when I carried him.”
“But…
didn’t you say he’s alive?” Thanduin asked, tone laced with a hint of confusion.
Harlan stopped and turned to him.
“He is.
The wounds had vanished by the time doctors checked him—every last one.”
“He…
regenerated?” Thanduin mumbled, brows furrowing in genuine disbelief.
“But he doesn’t even know how to use Rage abilities yet.”
If this were natural regeneration, it’d instantly put him at least in the First Division the moment he becomes a knight, he thought.
“The paramedics confirmed it—that boy has natural regeneration,” Harlan said.
“We asked his parents if there were any signs of this before, but this is the first time they’ve ever seen it.”
“Then he has no choice but to become a knight.” Thanduin’s voice firmed.
“The Knight Association is in need of candidates with his sort of potential.” He leaned closer, stern desperation touching his tone.
“If we let this opportunity slip, the Association will gradually lose its strength—”
“And that is precisely why he won’t become a knight,” Harlan interrupted, voice final.
Thanduin frowned.
“What?
Why?
I’m merely stating the truth.” His voice carried conviction, eyes narrowing in perplexity.
“Don’t you think it’d be better to get our hands on prodigies like him early?
He’s still young—train him now, and he’ll easily be as powerful as you once he reaches adulthood.”
“No.
I’m not disagreeing with your point,” Harlan said calmly, stepping toward him once more.
“I’m merely highlighting the flaw in that approach.”
Thanduin fell silent for a moment.
Harlan was right—he had been thinking selfishly.
“I…
apologise.
I was desperate.” His gaze lowered once more.
“I thought if I couldn’t reach people of your calibre, I could at least find prodigies and guide them to knighthood.” His voice quietened with a glimmer of guilt.
“I still…
wish to support the Association in any way I can.”
Harlan stared at him briefly, then a faint smile curved his lips.
“Come on—no need to feel so glum.” His voice came out light, the way it used to whenever Thanduin wore a dejected face.
“It’s alright.
I’ll do the talking.
I’ll make sure I persuade him to become a knight.
Leave it to your senior,” he added, hooking a thumb toward himself in a jaunty gesture.
He was Thanduin’s senior by three years.
He was still a Fifth Division member when Thanduin had first become a knight under his apprenticeship.
Though Thanduin had since risen to that same rank, it still didn’t feel like he’d finally surpassed the Harlan he once knew.
“Though—how did you lose your edge on defence?
That was only an E-rank threat,” Harlan said, a trace of bafflement streaking his countenance.
“Did something happen?”
Thanduin’s face crinkled vaguely with uncertainty.
“…Something felt off at the time—oddly distracting, though I couldn’t quite place it.”
“Hmmm.” Harlan rubbed his chin in quiet thought, then looked at him, intrigued.
“Rage Pressure?”
Thanduin shook his head slightly.
“No.
I didn’t feel any pressure,” he said, voice low.
“I’ve never felt anything like it before.” He looked down at his hand.
“It was as though my skin were burning.”
“Some kind of modification to the Partian, then?” Harlan conjectured.
“My barriers are designed to suppress anything they enclose—the entity itself, Rage Presence, Pressure,” Thanduin explained, confusion lingering in his eyes.
“Nothing should leak through.”
“So you’re saying the source was external?”
“Precisely.” His brows wrinkled at a sudden realization, gaze snapping to him.
“Wait—what if the boy himself was the source?”
“Hmm.
Good spot,” Harlan remarked, giving him a knowing look.
“Given that he has natural regeneration, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he also possesses Rage—and that it’s what caused that strange Presence.”
“But…
he didn’t seem able to control it.
He wasn’t even aware he was giving off that much Rage.” He shifted slightly, the bed creaking softly beneath him as his hand rested on the bed, anchoring himself.
“If we train him, he’ll be one of a kind.”
“So—put him in the Camesarian Guild?”
“Put him in the Reco Team,” he pleaded, tone tinged with earnestness.
“I doubt the superintendents will object once we explain what he’s capable of.”
“Alright, then.” Harlan turned his back to him, pulled out a sheet of paper, and scribbled on it in a cursory motion.
“Take this,” he said, handing over a letter signed with perfunctory strokes.
“They’ll ask for it when you enrol him in Reco.”
Thanduin took the paper and studied it with a dry expression.
“Oh—and one more thing.” Harlan glanced back over his shoulder.
“You wanted him to become a knight because of his courage, not his potential.
Am I right?”
Thanduin gave him a deliberate nod.
“That’s right.
I didn’t care how weak he was,” he said, voice even, a hint of eagerness in his eyes.
“If he had the nerve to save someone, we can work around the rest.
I’m trusting you on this one, sir.”
Harlan let out a quiet chuckle—the only sound he made before vanishing into whatever Thanduin’s curiosity couldn’t reach.