Arthur selected YES.
Nothing happened.
For one second, he wondered if the system had stopped working.
Then the pain arrived.
It began behind his left eye.
A dull pressure.
Then sharper.
Arthur grabbed the edge of the nearest table.
His knees almost gave way.
Someone said his name.
He couldn’t answer.
The shelter disappeared.
The academy disappeared.
Everything disappeared.
Rain.
That was the first thing.
Cold rain struck his face.
Arthur opened his eyes.
He was standing somewhere he recognized.
The West Tower.
Not as it looked now.
Three months earlier.
The stone walls were intact.
The windows weren’t shattered.
There was no blood on the floor.
Arthur looked down.
His hands were different.
Not his current hands.
The old Arthur’s.
He was watching through his own memory.
Someone stood in front of him.
Julian Hawke.
Younger.
Angrier.
His sword was drawn.
“You don’t understand what you’re doing.”
Arthur heard his own voice.
The old Arthur’s voice.
“I understand perfectly.”
Julian stepped closer.
“You opened it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Arthur looked toward the wall.
A black door had been carved into the stone.
No handle.
No hinges.
Just a door that seemed to have always been there.
“I wanted answers.”
Julian stared at him.
“About what?”
The old Arthur smiled.
It wasn’t Arthur’s current smile.
It was colder.
More arrogant.
“About the things they keep beneath this academy.”
The memory shifted.
Someone else entered the tower.
Seraphine Voss.
She looked younger.
But the scar along her jaw was already there.
Her sword was drawn.
“Arthur.”
The old Arthur turned.
“You came.”
“I told you not to come here.”
“And yet you did.”
Seraphine’s expression tightened.
“Step away from the door.”
Arthur didn’t move.
Julian looked between them.
“What is behind it?”
Seraphine didn’t answer.
Arthur laughed quietly.
“That’s what I thought.”
He reached toward the black door.
Seraphine moved.
“Don’t.”
Arthur’s fingers touched the surface.
The world changed.
For an instant, the door wasn’t a door.
It was a sky.
A black sky filled with distant lights.
Arthur saw something enormous moving between them.
Then he heard a voice.
Not loud.
Not threatening.
Almost courteous.
“You are not the one we were expecting.”
Arthur’s blood ran cold.
The old Arthur whispered:
“Who are you?”
The voice answered.
“Someone who remembers the Court.”
The memory fractured.
Arthur saw flashes.
A black envelope.
A golden symbol.
Seraphine shouting.
Julian falling.
Darian standing at the bottom of a staircase.
Blood running from his mouth.
Arthur—his old self—holding out a hand.
Darian refused it.
Then another flash.
The black door opening.
Something reaching through.
Something that looked like a hand.
Arthur remembered screaming.
Not from fear.
From anger.
The memory shifted again.
He was sitting at the desk in Room 417.
His hands were shaking.
The black envelope lay in front of him.
Seraphine stood behind him.
“You can’t tell them.”
Arthur looked up.
“Why?”
“Because they will kill you.”
“Who?”
She didn’t answer.
Arthur opened the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Four words.
THE COURT HAS RETURNED.
Arthur stared at it.
Then laughed.
“That’s impossible.”
Seraphine’s face had gone pale.
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“What’s impossible is that it knows you’re here.”
Arthur looked at her.
“What does it want?”
Seraphine whispered:
“Nothing.”
A pause.
“That’s what frightens me.”
The memory shattered.
Arthur woke on the floor.
Someone was shouting.
“Get the medic!”
His lungs dragged in air.
He rolled onto his side.
The shelter came back in pieces.
Stone.
Blood.
People.
Mira kneeling beside him.
Arthur pushed himself upright.
“I’m fine.”
“You collapsed.”
“I noticed.”
“You were unconscious.”
“For how long?”
Mira glanced toward the instructors.
“Maybe thirty seconds.”
Arthur rubbed his temple.
Thirty seconds.
It had felt like hours.
Seraphine stood several meters away.
She hadn’t moved.
Arthur looked at her.
“You knew.”
Her expression didn’t change.
“I knew you had sealed memories.”
“No.”
Arthur slowly stood.
“You knew what was inside them.”
Silence.
That was enough.
Arthur’s anger rose.
Not explosive.
Worse.
Controlled.
“You lied to me.”
Seraphine’s eyes hardened.
“I withheld information.”
A few cadets nearby glanced toward them.
Seraphine ignored them.
“You weren’t ready.”
“That’s not your decision.”
“It became my decision when you opened the lower archive.”
Arthur stepped closer.
“And when did you decide I couldn’t be trusted?”
Seraphine’s expression changed slightly.
“I never said I didn’t trust you.”
“You sealed my memories.”
“To keep you alive.”
Arthur laughed once.
“That’s convenient.”
Seraphine looked toward the obsidian fragment in his pocket.
“You don’t understand what that memory means.”
“Then explain it.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t?”
She shook her head.
“Not here.”
Arthur’s patience thinned.
“Then tell me where.”
Seraphine stared at him.
“The Headmaster’s chamber.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
“You’re sending me to the Headmaster?”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“He’s sending for you.”
Arthur’s expression changed.
“When?”
“Now.”
The academy had returned to normal too quickly.
That was Arthur’s first thought as he walked through the corridors.
Students were already discussing the breach.
Some exaggerated the size of the creature.
Others claimed Julian had defeated it.
One student insisted there had been three monsters.
There had been one.
Arthur didn’t correct anyone.
He had other concerns.
The system hadn’t appeared since the memory recovery.
That bothered him.
So did the fact that the creature’s contract had been connected to something beneath the academy.
And the memory.
Especially the memory.
Arthur stopped walking.
Mira nearly walked into him.
“What?”
He looked at her.
“Did you see anything unusual when I collapsed?”
“Unusual?”
“Anything.”
She thought.
“Your eyes.”
Arthur waited.
“They turned gold.”
His expression remained still.
“Anything else?”
Mira hesitated.
“You said something.”
“What?”
“I couldn’t understand it.”
“Try.”
She frowned.
“It sounded like a name.”
Arthur’s stomach tightened.
“What name?”
Mira looked uncertain.
“Something like…”
She stopped.
“Never mind.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“No. Say it.”
Mira lowered her voice.
“Arthur.”
“Yes?”
“You said it wasn’t your name.”
Arthur went silent.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Arthur continued walking.
Mira followed.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer irritated him.
But it was honest.
For once, he had no clever response.
The Headmaster’s tower stood above the academy’s central courtyard.
Arthur had seen it from below.
Up close, it was older than the rest of Gallows Edge.
The stone wasn’t black.
It was almost colorless.
Like something had drained the life from it.
Two armored guards stood outside.
One looked at Arthur.
“The Headmaster is waiting.”
Arthur glanced at the other guard.
Neither looked surprised to see him.
He entered.
The door closed behind him.
The room was circular.
No books.
No weapons.
No trophies.
Only a large window overlooking the clouds.
An old man stood beside it.
He was dressed simply.
No armor.
No noble insignia.
No academy colors.
Arthur expected someone imposing.
Instead, the Headmaster looked tired.
Very tired.
“You have your memories back.”
Arthur stopped.
“Some of them.”
The Headmaster nodded.
“Enough.”
Arthur stared at him.
“You knew?”
“I knew something had been sealed.”
“By Seraphine?”
“Partly.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“Partly?”
The Headmaster turned.
His face was calm.
“The seal was not entirely ours.”
That caught Arthur’s attention.
“Who placed the rest?”
“We don’t know.”
Arthur studied him.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
The Headmaster walked toward the desk.
“I expect you to understand that uncertainty is sometimes the most honest answer.”
Arthur almost smiled.
“That’s an unpleasant philosophy.”
“It keeps people alive.”
The Headmaster placed a small black box on the desk.
Arthur looked at it.
“What is that?”
“Something you left behind.”
Arthur didn’t touch it.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
Arthur’s gaze hardened.
“What’s inside?”
“You tell me.”
Arthur looked at him.
The Headmaster pushed the box forward.
Arthur opened it.
Inside was a folded piece of black cloth.
A broken silver ring.
And a small piece of paper.
Arthur picked up the paper.
Three words had been written on it.
DO NOT TRUST ME.
He stared.
The handwriting was his.
His old handwriting.
Arthur read it again.
Then again.
The Headmaster watched him.
“What does it mean?”
Arthur looked up.
“I don’t know.”
The Headmaster nodded.
“Good.”
Arthur frowned.
“Why is that good?”
“Because if you had immediately claimed to understand it, I’d know the memory seal hadn’t changed you enough.”
Arthur slowly placed the paper back inside the box.
“You’ve been watching me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
The Headmaster didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he looked toward Arthur’s left hand.
“Show me your archetype.”
Arthur hesitated.
Then summoned the interface.
The blue panel appeared.
[THE PEERLESS GENTLEMAN]
Resonance: 7%
Conduct: 87%
Current Optimization: 7%
The Headmaster stared.
For the first time, his expression changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Arthur noticed.
“You know it.”
The Headmaster’s gaze remained on the display.
“Not personally.”
“Then how?”
“Because I have seen the name before.”
Arthur waited.
“Where?”
The Headmaster looked directly at him.
“In records that predate this academy.”
Arthur’s pulse quickened.
“How old?”
“Old enough that the language is difficult to translate.”
“Who was the previous holder?”
The Headmaster’s expression became unreadable.
“We don’t know.”
Arthur frowned.
“That’s not what the records say.”
“You haven’t seen the records.”
“Then show me.”
“No.”
Arthur stared.
The Headmaster continued:
“Not yet.”
Arthur leaned forward.
“Everyone keeps telling me that.”
“Because everyone who knows something is afraid of what happens if you learn too much too quickly.”
Arthur’s expression hardened.
“That excuse is becoming tedious.”
The Headmaster almost smiled.
“Good.”
Arthur frowned.
“Good?”
“Anger is healthier than blind trust.”
The old man walked back toward the window.
“You have two choices.”
Arthur waited.
“You can spend the next few months digging into your past.”
“Or?”
“You can become strong enough that nobody can stop you when you uncover it.”
Arthur considered the choice.
It wasn’t really a choice.
He needed both.
The Headmaster seemed to realize that.
“You were always ambitious.”
Arthur looked at him.
“Was I?”
“Yes.”
The Headmaster paused.
“But ambition wasn’t your greatest problem.”
Arthur waited.
“You believed you could control every outcome.”
The words landed harder than Arthur expected.
The Headmaster continued:
“Three months ago, that belief nearly destroyed you.”
Arthur looked down at the black box.
“And Darian?”
The Headmaster was silent.
“What did I do to him?”
“You didn’t hurt him.”
Arthur’s eyes lifted.
“What?”
“You made a choice.”
“What choice?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Arthur’s frustration returned.
“Why?”
“Because that memory is connected to the seal.”
Arthur stared at him.
“So I’m supposed to trust everyone while they refuse to answer anything.”
“No.”
The Headmaster’s voice was quiet.
“You’re supposed to trust nobody blindly.”
Arthur paused.
That was the first answer he’d received all day that he respected.
The Headmaster pointed toward the door.
“Go.”
Arthur closed the box.
“That’s it?”
“For now.”
Arthur turned.
Then stopped.
“One last question.”
The Headmaster waited.
Arthur looked back.
“Why did that creature bow to me?”
The room became very still.
The Headmaster’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Arthur saw it.
Fear.
Real fear.
The old man said:
“Because something inside you remembers a place where creatures like that were not permitted to stand.”
Arthur stared at him.
“Where?”
The Headmaster didn’t answer.
Arthur nodded slowly.
“Of course.”
He left.
The corridor outside was empty.
Arthur walked several steps.
Then stopped.
The system appeared.
Blue.
Normal.
Almost reassuring.
[Memory Restoration: Incomplete.]
[Recovered fragments: 11]
[Contradictory identity markers detected.]
[Warning: Host identity does not fully correspond to recorded Arthur Vale.]
[Further restoration restricted.]
Arthur stared at the final line.
He read it twice.
Three times.
Then his face went still.
Not fully correspond.
He remembered the rain.
The black door.
Julian.
Seraphine.
The envelope.
His own handwriting.
And a voice calling him something that wasn’t Arthur.
Arthur slowly closed the interface.
For the first time, he wondered whether reincarnation had brought him into the wrong body.
Or whether the body had been waiting for him all along.
He walked toward the stairs.
Behind him, inside the Headmaster’s chamber, the old man remained at the window.
He watched Arthur disappear.
Then quietly opened a drawer.
Inside was an ancient record.
Its first page carried a symbol.
A circle.
Three lines.
Beneath it was a title written in a language no modern scholar could read.
The Headmaster translated only one word.
Gentleman.
His hand trembled.
Because beneath the title, someone had written a newer note.
Three months old.
The handwriting was Arthur’s.
IF I RETURN, DON’T LET ME REMEMBER EVERYTHING.
The Headmaster closed the book.
Outside, the academy bell rang.
Once.
Arthur stopped on the staircase.
He looked upward.
For the briefest moment, he thought he heard someone whisper behind him.
Not a voice from the system.
Not Seraphine.
Not the Headmaster.
His own voice.
“Don’t trust the man you become.”
Arthur turned.
The staircase was empty.
He stood there for several seconds.
Then continued downward.
He had wanted his memories back.
Now he wasn’t sure whether getting them was the same thing as getting the truth.