“I will never… never take a disciple again.”
The calm, gray eyes fractured—cracks spreading like lightning across the surface—until they shattered completely, spilling silent tears.
With a voice low and broken, teetering on the brink of despair, he muttered:
“I’ll never do it again…”
If only it had been betrayal. Why couldn’t it have been that? If they’d stabbed me in the back using the techniques I taught them, if they’d experimented on my immortal body out of twisted curiosity—none of it would’ve hurt like this.
Faced with the cruel truth of his most cherished disciple, Raven’s expression remained terrifyingly calm, yet his words dripped with quiet despair.
“I’m so tired…”
[…Little one.]
“I’m going to rest too.”
[…]
“Contracts, fate—whatever it is… Let the world crumble if it wants. Let it all fall apart.”
…So this is how it ends?
The guardian spirit, who had watched everything in silence, exhaled a sigh soaked in desolation. They had known he was exhausted—but why now? Why like this?
This shouldn’t be happening…
Raven wasn’t someone permitted to rest. Not with the immortality contract shackling him. The world itself wouldn’t allow him to waste away.
But even so, the guardian spirit had no authority to stop him.
And yet… even as he crumbled, the fact that he hadn’t once spoken of death revealed that deep down, beneath his reckless words, he still clung to his convictions.
Watching his fragile, dangerously unstable figure, the guardian spirit finally broke the silence and asked cautiously:
[And the other disciples?]
“…It doesn’t matter. Once I’m gone, they’ll be the first to forget me.”
It had always been this way. Without exception, everyone eventually forgot him.
Some had tried adorable tricks—writing diaries, getting tattoos to remember—but… none of it ever truly mattered.
“They’ll manage without me.”
In over a century of life, not a single person had remembered him for long. That’s why Raven abandoned his ties without hesitation—and disappeared.
Thus, ten years passed.
[Imperial Year 1012, April 1st]
[Woke up. Master’s gone. Asked around—no one knows where he is. Worse, they didn’t even notice he was missing. Useless…
Just to be sure, I asked the youngest—the last to join us—but he doesn’t know either. Typical. That kid worships him like a father; if he knew anything, he wouldn’t be here wasting time.]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 2nd]
[Still no sign of the master. It’s unlike him to vanish without a word. He always stayed within view… Where did he go? Could he have been kidnapped?
…I feel more worried for the kidnappers.]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 3rd]
[Another day, no master.
I’ve been thinking. What could make him disappear this long? Only one reason comes to mind—collecting souls.
The master sometimes took on the duty of reaping souls in death’s stead.
Still… leaving without saying anything nags at me. I’ve decided to look for him. The others agree.]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 5th]
[Master’s still gone. Soul collection missions can last two weeks, so maybe that’s it. But we’ve found no trace of him—nothing.
I’m uneasy. We need to brace for the worst… but time is short.
The master is someone you forget once he’s out of sight.
…But we’re holding on. He chose disciples capable of remembering him for at least two weeks. So, we’re okay… for now.]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 6th]
[No master. No leads. My anxiety’s building—something isn’t right.]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 7th]
[Still no sign of him.]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 8th]
[Nothing today either.]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 9th]
[Surely he’ll return by two weeks. He left on the 1st—it’s the 9th now. Not long left. We wait.]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 10th]
[Useless disciples don’t even know where master is. I don’t get why he picked them.
Granted, I haven’t found him either… but at least I’m strong.]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 11th]
[Three days left. No clues, but master’s an expert at hiding.
When he returns, I’ll demand an explanation. If it’s not good enough, I’ll be furious.]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 13th]
[Tomorrow…]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 14th]
[Master’s still missing. No leads. It’s… clean. Too clean.
(The ink here is shaky, black stains smudging the letters.)
It’s like someone erased him deliberately.
He was so hopelessly disorganized—we practically managed his life for him. So where the hell did he go?
We all gathered to talk. We’ll wait one more day… but the air feels heavy. Like ice lodged in my chest. It’s hard to breathe. Something’s wrong. Why?]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 15th]
[Master’s still gone. It’s been over two weeks.
Everyone’s tense—the same fear etched across every face.
We’ve never been apart from him this long…
I’m scared.
Terrified that we’ll forget him.
The longest anyone’s remembered him after being apart? One month.
We’re halfway there. Can we find him in time?
…Or will we forget before that?]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 16th]
[No progress. Everyone’s unraveling. I tried to calm things down—only sparked a fight.
Honestly, I feel like I’m losing my grip too.
But we’ve lasted longer than most. Some forget him the moment he’s out of sight.
I don’t want to forget.
Even when others did, the master acted indifferent, but I saw the bitterness in his eyes.
He’s been hurt too many times…
If even his disciples forget, it’ll destroy him. I can’t do that.
I’m not the perfect disciple… but he means more to me than anyone.
That’s why I’m writing this journal—to anchor my memory of him. But…]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 17th]
[What’s the point? A journal won’t matter if the memories fade.
Rowina proved it today.
She’s already forgotten him. She said she doesn’t remember having a master. Couldn’t grasp why we’re clinging so desperately.
I threw her own journal—found hidden under her bed—straight at her face.]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 18th]
[Master… is this real? Is it possible?]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 19th]
[Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?]
[Imperial Year 1012, April 20th]
[It’s clear now. The master left by choice.
If it were a kidnapping, there’d be some trace. But there’s nothing.
Why?
What did we do?
It’s… confusing. Sadness, yes—but also betrayal.
But master, weren’t our moments together worth more than that?
You owed us a reason before vanishing.
I won’t stop until I hear it from you.
We’ve decided—we’ll search to the ends of the earth.
The master trained us to protect humanity from monsters. If we fulfill that, maybe he’ll appear again.
We’ll climb higher.
We’ll build an information network, train new disciples, safeguard humanity. If we succeed, we’ll track his movements.
The master’s immortal. As long as we don’t give up, we’ll find him. He can’t hide forever.
That’s why I’m writing this. When I read it in the future, when I see the tattoo on my body, I’ll remember: never stop searching.]
[Imperial Year 1022, April 1st]
The diary closed with a quiet snap.
A man, who had read its contents countless times, ran his fingers across the familiar yet strangely distant cover. Lifting his gaze, he surveyed the three people before him, disdain curling his lips into a smirk.
“So… all of you have been looking for the master too, huh?”
“……”
“Ridiculous.”
We spent so much time together—even if it was shallow, weren’t we at least connected?
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
If Liv, the master’s second disciple, hadn’t arranged this meeting, I’d still think I was alone in this search.
She only did it after realizing the others were searching too—that says enough.
I thought I was the only one who hadn’t given up. Altair, the first disciple of Raven and current president of the Awakened Association, let out a bitter laugh.
“You should’ve said something. We wasted resources because of this.”
“You didn’t say anything either!”
“I figured you’d all forgotten him, living your peaceful lives.”
“That’s exactly why I stayed quiet.”
“Same here.”
…No point in arguing further.
Altair fell silent, redirecting the conversation.
“Since we’re here, let’s be honest. When did you remember the master? When did you start searching?”
For me—it was a week after writing my final journal entry. I reread it, and the search began.
Liv, president of the Soul Fragment Association, shrugged indifferently.
“I remembered two weeks after my last entry. Started looking three weeks ago.”
“I remembered the day after my final journal. Someone threw it at my face. Since then, I’ve searched…
Even when you forgot, I kept forgetting—then remembering—and searching quietly.”
“I remembered fifteen days after writing my last entry. Likely began investigating soon after.”
The others finally joined in, loosening their tongues.
Once it became clear they’d all been searching for the master long ago, Liv’s expression twisted.
“What? Everyone’s been searching for him except me? And the youngest?”
“He’s not here, but probably the same. That guy disappears daily.
Bet he’s out physically searching.
What surprises me is how long you took to start.”
“…I didn’t have a reason before.”
Anyway.
I slammed the journal onto the table. Everyone’s eyes shifted to me.
“The reason I sensed something was off… found the journal… it was probably the tattoo, right?”
An open book, the word Diary etched in the center.
Everyone nodded immediately.
“Yeah. I thought we were just united by protecting humanity, but it wasn’t that.”
“Let’s be real, we’re not selfless enough to endure discomfort for strangers.”
“Exactly. The master was the reason.”
Altair, brushing the tattoo over his heart, scoffed.
“…Ridiculous. I thought I chose to build a system to protect people, but turns out I had hidden motivation.”
“By the way…”
Rowina, the third disciple and president of the Warrior Association, finally spoke. Chin resting on her fist, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Why are you so desperate to find him? I’m just curious what kind of person he was for me to obsess over. That’s why I search—when I have time.
If I find him, I’ll talk to him. Maybe duel him. But you… you’re different.”
She pointed at Altair and Liv with scarred fingers.
“You’re too intense. Especially one of you—you seem downright desperate.”
Liv met Rowina’s predatory gaze with a frown.
Hwan, the fourth disciple, observed them before nodding.
“She’s right. It’s odd—you suddenly started searching just three weeks ago. And you managed to gather us… clearly you’ve been investigating hard.”
“……”
“As Sorcerer’s Association president, I want to find the one who taught me—to measure his skills.
But I’m not chasing him with your kind of obsession.
Also means I don’t care enough to deal with people I dislike.”
Still, he couldn’t deny lingering feelings for the master hidden in those journals…
Suppressing them, Hwan softened his voice.
“So, tell us. If you do, I’ll help.”
“……”
Liv avoided his gaze, lips pressed tight.
After a heavy silence, she glanced at Altair, visibly reluctant, then finally spoke—her face twisted with resentment.
“…I want to live.”
“Ah.”
It all made sense.
The absence of her black jaguar—everyone noticed. Hwan didn’t press, turning to Altair.
The gaze fell on him. Altair tilted his head.
“Me too?”
“……”
“Fine.”
A murderous smile crept onto his lips.
“I want to kill him.”
“……What?”
Not a joke.
His fierce smile didn’t waver as he met their eyes.
“Looks like we all have unfinished business with him…”
“……”
“If you cooperate, I’ll deal with my business last.”
Wouldn’t want me killing him before you’re done, right?
Altair’s words were as much threat as reason.
“Of course, that only works if you contain him.
Find him—secure him.”
His eyes sharpened, voice firm:
“If you lose him again—unfinished business or not—I’ll kill him.”
“…Guess we’ll need a room with no windows.”
“And a door with a food slot.”