The field, frozen by the Snowflower Stone’s power, gleamed in a flawless blue, its surface shining like smooth glass under the light.0

Epherene stood there, staring blankly, before murmuring, “Your heart… is dead?”0

It was a concept difficult for her to grasp, even by common reasoning—a heart that had stopped beating and lay dead.0

However, Deculein answered calmly, “Indeed.”0

A cold wind swept past, tugging at her collar and sending a chill down her spine. Though her future self had hinted at it, hearing it firsthand was far more unsettling. Epherene’s lips parted, but no words came—she felt as though she were gasping for air, like a fish out of water. She had nothing to say.0

“Don’t worry. I’ll manage to live for a few more centuries,” Deculein said with a soft chuckle, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder. “Let’s move. Staying here any longer will only bring trouble.”8

Then, without another word, he turned and began walking away. Epherene, still in shock, hesitated before rushing to catch up.0

“W-where are we going, Professor?”0

“There’s still much for you to learn.”0

“... Sorry?”0

Everything he said unsettled her, leaving her at a loss for how to respond. The gentleness in his tone and the warmth that laced his voice felt foreign, almost unnatural to her.4

“You’ll understand once you follow,” Deculein said.0

“... Okay.”0

Epherene walked alongside him, though it seemed as if he adjusted his pace to match hers. These small gestures struck her as odd. Still, without a word, she followed him, hesitantly watching his broad shoulders from time to time. Her thoughts, meanwhile, wandered far ahead, imagining what lay in the future.3

***0

Sophien’s eyes fluttered open, her eyelids trembling faintly, almost as if begging for more sleep. She closed them again… but no, after a brief hesitation, they opened once more, and she turned her head. Seated near the sofa was a man—Deculein.1

“Why… are you there?” Sophien murmured, her voice still thick with lingering...1