"I wonder if he’s already had lunch."

Ring-ring.

The faint sound of a bicycle bell echoed as the rider pedaled furiously.

Levi was once again riding her bicycle diligently. She had grown familiar with the path she now traveled daily. Strangely, even the once bumpy roads seemed to have been repaired, making her journey smoother than ever.

Clatter.

In the basket of her bike was a fairly large lunchbox, packed to the brim with food she had prepared herself. Having recently learned some cooking tips from Tristan’s chef, she was confident it wouldn’t taste bad.

"I hope he likes it…"

She had poured her heart into preparing this meal for one person.

As long as he appreciated her effort, all her hard work would be worthwhile.
More than anything, she knew him well—he wasn’t the kind of person who would dismiss such a heartfelt gesture. Quite the opposite; he was someone who would savor it with genuine appreciation.

"Hmm…"

Thinking about it made Levi’s cheeks flush slightly, and she pedaled faster.

Despite her delicate appearance, her body was well-trained from daily practice. Even maintaining a steady speed of 30 kilometers per hour for an hour didn’t tire her out.

A girl in love is always strong.

After pedaling for a while, she saw a familiar cabin in the distance.

The moment the cabin came into view, Levi’s face lit up with a radiant smile, and she picked up speed. It was as if all her steady pacing had been in preparation for this burst of energy.

But then—

"…Huh?"

Levi blinked.

Just three meters from the cabin, a man lay collapsed on the ground.

Recognizing the familiar figure, Levi immediately hit the brakes and rushed over to him.

"D-Damian Follett, sir?"

“…”

"What are you doing here?"

“…Ugh.”

"A-are you crying?"

“…Why is it only my life that’s so miserable? Why do I have to go through all this…?”

"Hmm."

…Ah, he’s acting like usual.

Levi nodded knowingly.

‘Master must be [educating] him again.’

The relationship between her instructor and Damian Follett was already infamous at the academy.

His daily regimen of constant running and paperwork had made him a legend of sorts, whether he wanted the reputation or not. It wasn’t hard to guess what might have happened.

And so—

‘…I envy him.’

Levi genuinely envied him.

She envied Damian for receiving such personal “tutoring” from her master.

Had Damian been able to read her thoughts, he might have gone mad on the spot, but Levi wasn’t jealous because he monopolized their master’s attention.

No, it was because despite everything, Damian Follett was undeniably growing stronger.

‘He’s improved again.’

Damian Follett was already one of the strongest among the cadets in the swordsmanship department.

As the heir to a prestigious knightly family, he had undergone rigorous training that put him above his peers.

The only reason he didn’t stand out this year was because the academy happened to be filled with abnormally talented cadets. In any other year, Damian could have easily been the top student in the department.

But under her master’s relentless "education," Damian’s growth curve had become strikingly steep.

If he continued at this pace, while he might not catch up to the black-haired “Young Lord,” he might one day rival one of the three prodigies.

‘They say people grow stronger in the face of adversity. Maybe that’s true for Damian too.’

A person forced to grow stronger to endure the "adversity" that was her master.

To Levi, who dreamed of becoming stronger as quickly as possible, Damian’s growth was something to admire.

…Even if, for him, it was undoubtedly hell.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ah, Master!"

"And what are you up to, Bear Cub?"

"Ah, I just… I thought we could eat lunch together if you haven’t already."

"With all that food you brought, if I’d already eaten, you’d be calling me a villain, wouldn’t you?"

"Hehe."

"Ridiculous… Lucky for you, I haven’t eaten yet. I was about to bake a pizza in the oven, but let’s eat what you brought instead."

"Yes, sir! Oh, but what about Damian, sir…?"

"Leave him. He’s just being dramatic. Lately, he’s been too disobedient."

At the words “If you’re not eating lunch, you’re not getting any!”, Damian, muttering “You’re too much, really…”, reluctantly got to his feet.

The scene was so comical that Levi couldn’t help but…

"Hehe."

…burst into a bright, cheerful laugh.

The documents that Trainee No. 1 had painstakingly retrieved occupied Ihan’s dining table, but Ihan was far more focused on his lunch than on the papers.

He quietly ate a wood-fired pizza, its cheese stretching with every bite, and the rice-shaped pasta that Levi had prepared.

"You’re too much, sir. Do you know how hard I worked to bring those papers…?"

"Enough. Is this all?"

"…Yes, this is all the information they could find for now. Oh, and Guildmaster Simon said to tell you, ‘I hope this means you’ll finally think better of the guild now.’"

"What a jokester."

"I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who can talk about the Guildmaster like that, sir."

It was impressive to see someone like Simon, the leader of the Royal Guild, being ordered around so casually.
Equally impressive was that Simon followed the commands without question.

‘I suppose big shots connect with each other.’

"For someone so cocky, his competence is mediocre at best. Is this really all he could gather? And yet he wants me to think better of him? Shameless."

"Hmm…"

…Or maybe Simon was just scared of getting beaten and had no choice but to comply.

This was Damian’s small theory as he observed the situation. Though Ihan appeared to be focused on his food, Damian noticed he was carefully skimming through the documents.

Damian had seen this before—whenever Ihan personally reviewed something, his attention to detail was astonishing.

‘What incredible focus.’

Though he wasn’t one to enjoy paperwork, when Ihan did pay attention, it was as if he was engaging in a battle with the documents, his sharp gaze akin to a blade.

‘He approaches everything like a fight—no wonder he’s so strong.’

Just as Damian was marveling at this, Ihan suddenly slapped the table.

"As expected, he’s not dead."

"?"

"Oh, I wasn’t talking to you. Hurry up and finish eating. Don’t forget, you need to plant basil and fruit trees today."

"Sir, I’m a trainee, not a laborer! And how am I supposed to finish all that by today?"

"Did I say you had to do it alone? You’ve got an intern—put them to work."

"Ah!"

…This man might be a genius.

Damian wasn’t sure if his mind had gone numb or if he was just delighted at the newfound justification to boss the intern around, but he couldn’t help looking at Ihan with awe.

It was an enlightening moment for Damian.

Whether or not his trainee was learning something unsavory, Ihan didn’t care. Instead, he busied himself with analyzing the documents.

‘Name: Greg Vin. Formerly affiliated with the Empire’s Magic Tower. Fled to the southern continent after conducting illegal experiments. Originally operated in Britain, where he was reportedly captured and executed during the war.’

However…

‘The body identified at his execution was suspected to be a fellow prisoner. His specialty was magic that allowed him to exchange the skin of his face with another’s, making it highly likely he survived by switching faces.’

Magic that could swap faces.

The mention of this “master of disguise” convinced Ihan that Greg was still alive.

As Ihan reviewed the details of Greg’s illegal experiments, one in particular caught his attention:

‘[Mystic] transplantation.’

Extracting another’s mystic power and transplanting it into oneself.
The process killed the victim, but the mystic power could be preserved indefinitely, making it valuable for military applications and enhancing royal authority—or so Greg Vin claimed.

"What a worm of a man."

Ihan sneered as he read Greg’s rationale.

Typical sorcerer nonsense.

Fancy words aside, it boiled down to one thing:

‘He envied others’ talents and couldn’t stand it, so he developed a way to steal them. This guy’s no different from the scum of the Blood Cult.’

It reminded Ihan of martial arts novels, where villains kidnapped talented individuals to absorb their abilities.
Greg’s logic was no different—killing others to claim their strength.

‘He’s worse than a beast that sucks the life out of others.’

If Greg had been in front of him, Ihan would have killed him without hesitation.

"A man of the Empire, huh…."

Ihan focused on Greg’s past affiliation with the Imperial Magic Tower.

The Magic Tower—a supposed ivory tower for mages located in the central continent.

‘What a load of nonsense.’

They called it an ivory tower, but to Ihan, it was nothing more than a nest of sorcerers.

The Magic Tower’s involvement in these experiments made Ihan suspicious.

‘They knew about these experiments and still let him escape? How does an organization that incompetent even exist?’

…Unless.

‘Ah, right. The White Cats.’

He was reminded of the similarly dubious White Lions and momentarily understood the Magic Tower’s ineptitude, though his suspicions remained.

If the Magic Tower truly had ties to Greg, Ihan wanted to investigate. But traveling to the central continent would be time-consuming.

"Wait, I don’t need to go myself, do I?"

Something he had overheard came to mind: someone from the Magic Tower was coming here.

And the reason was—

"Instructor~!!"

“……”

"Hehe."

‘Oh, that chick from next door….’

The neighboring academy’s “chick” was happily skipping over, and Ihan had an idea.

"Bear Cub."

"Yes, Master."

"I’ve got a question. Is it a crime to kidnap a Magic Tower sorcerer?"

"…What?"

Righteous theft—or perhaps here, righteous kidnapping.

"It’s just, I’ve got something personal to ask."

"Uh… wouldn’t it be better to just ask them instead of kidnapping them?"

"That won’t work."

"?"

"You think a sorcerer would answer questions willingly?"

“……”

Ihan’s perfectly logical reasoning left his trainee staring at him in disbelief.

Such innocence.
This kid hadn’t experienced the world yet.

"You really are inexperienced. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you."

"Am I… wrong for thinking this is weird?"

"No, you’re just naive."

When it came to handling sorcerers, Ihan believed in hands-on experience.

"I’ll teach you this time."

"…??"

Ihan smiled, already planning how to make this a practical lesson.

‘There’s no better teacher than experience.’

And he was quite pleased with the opportunity to teach through action rather than words.