Chapter 9: Past.

After those peculiar youngsters left Madam Herz’s office—each curious in their own way—the old woman began organizing the documents scattered across her desk. Her movements were slow, elegant, almost ethereal, like a heron gliding over paper.

As she worked, her thoughts inevitably drifted back to that strange little Nen girl.

That child had always been... odd. But lately, even the word “eccentric” felt like an understatement.

There was something deeply unsettling about the sudden shift in Kathryn’s behavior. Herz noticed it immediately. After all, this was the very same girl who, not long ago, had begged—literally Babycrying—for help.

She still remembered that day.

Just another part of her weekly routine: visiting orphanages, inspecting facilities, speaking to staff, and making sure the children were as healthy and happy as possible—within their means.

And it was there she saw her for the first time. A lively girl, strong-willed, with hair so pink it looked like cotton candy... though that sweetness didn’t exactly extend to her temperament.

“Ha… at least that part hasn’t changed,” Herz chuckled softly, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. She leaned back in her seat, letting herself wander.

At first, that Nen didn’t seem like anything special. In fact, they ignored each other, which ironically, is what piqued her interest. She, Madam Herz, was a well-known figure even among commoners. Admired, even. Yet that girl showed zero interest.

And that was what drew her old, near-blind eyes to her.

As expected, and as she suspected, the girl didn’t stand out. Just another Nen who occasionally helped out at the orphanage, playing with the kids who’d been left behind.

And yet...

“She had... something in her. Something my eyes couldn’t see, but I could feel. Something... special.”

So she kept watching. Out of habit, out of instinct, out of curiosity. And then, a few months ago, she saw something unusual.

Kathryn, crying.

But it wasn’t normal crying. It wasn’t pain. It was fear. Raw, bone-deep fear.

Her mouth spoke before her mind could stop her.

“Are you alright?”

She didn’t expect an answer. But surprisingly, the girl broke down completely. A deep, desperate sobbing. She poured everything out. And Herz listened. In silence. Then handed her a white handkerchief.

And that’s when she understood.

Non-Elemental Magic.

The most basic kind of magic. So simple that many deemed it useless. But sometimes, simplicity could be the most dangerous weapon—especially when it fell into the wrong hands.

“How ironic... something so mundane ended up shifting the fate of a simple Nen,” Herz muttered as she rubbed her neck, then moved toward a bookshelf packed with dusty tomes.

So, why the fear?

The answer was obvious: she’d made a mistake. She’d used her power in public. And that had drawn attention—the worst kind of attention.

Threats, hate, scorn.

Herz had felt genuine sympathy. So she offered her an out. A real opportunity: enrollment at Libelling Academy, the safest, most prestigious institution in the region. Because Herz knew all too well what the anti-magic factions were capable of—driven by hate, greed… and fear.

She only had to speak to Kathryn’s parents. Explain the situation. Convince them their daughter would be protected here. That maybe, just maybe, she could even become a real noble someday.

What disgusted Herz the most was how the parents' eyes lit up at that last part. As if their daughter’s suffering was just a price to pay for a promising future. As if they didn’t even see the danger.

Even so, she didn’t let her feelings cloud her judgement. She promised she’d return for her. And she did.

She remembered Kathryn’s face lighting up with joy at that promise.

“She looked truly happy… so what changed? What caused such a sudden shift?” she whispered, returning to her desk. “Well... as long as nothing bad happens to her, that’s enough for me.”

Despite her curiosity, she chose not to intervene further—for now. She would simply give Auren instructions to keep a close eye on the girl.

She picked up a tablet and tapped a few times. Leaning on her cane, she waited for the call to connect.

“Give me a report,” she commanded, her voice raspy.

She listened silently. Her face showed no emotion.

“I see. Very well. Make sure what’s left of that person is handled with care... Hm? Ah… instead of poking into my affairs, do your damn job. I’ll take care of her. And don’t forget who you’re speaking to.”

Click.

“…Alright,” she murmured. “Time to call young Auren.”

***

“I understand, Madam Herz. I’ll handle it.”

Auren answered with his usual ceremonial calm. His tone was flawless, posture straight, like each word had been rehearsed in front of a mirror devoid of emotion. He ended the call with a gesture so subtle, it barely seemed human.

“So… Madam Herz has given you another assignment, hasn’t she?”

Fisalia’s voice broke the silence with venomous elegance. She knew him too well—her tone was soft, but her words were sharp. Something wasn’t adding up, and she sensed it.

“Indeed. She asked us to watch the Nen.”

The words fell from his mouth like a dagger thrown by an expert—precise, cold, certain. And yet… something in his eyes didn’t match the rest of him.

Fisalia noticed instantly.

Auren never lost composure, but his pupils shone with a quiet frustration, as if those words—watch the Nen—were personally offensive. Like this entire task was beneath him.

An obstacle.

“I’d prefer to handle that myself,” Fisalia offered, taking a single step forward. Her voice carried resolve and something else… worry? Loyalty? Strategy? “Your time shouldn't be wasted on something so... trivial.”

Auren didn’t answer right away. He simply nodded, just once—chin lowering slightly, like granting permission or pronouncing judgment.

“Thank you, my loyal companion,” he murmured, eyes fixed elsewhere. “Keep a close eye on that Nen. I’d rather she not cause any more chaos. I still have matters that need… attention. It’s a nuisance, but if Madam Herz insists, so be it. Just don’t do anything reckless. Understood?”

“Of course,” said Fisalia, smile intact—but her gaze lingered on him a moment too long. As if trying to read between the lines. As if, for the first time, she wasn’t sure where exactly she stood on the board.

Without another word, the white-haired duo turned and disappeared into the polished marble halls. They walked with the assurance of people who owned the place… but one of them carried something else.

Something hidden beneath the silence.

***

On the far side of the vast and elegant Libelling Academy, where sunlight barely touched the stained glass of the northern wing, a young girl with cotton-candy-pink hair stumbled down the hall, clutching a folder to her chest.

“Guess I’m still stuck in this place…” she muttered, barely loud enough for the air itself to hear.

Kathryn—or rather, Julia trapped in Kathryn’s body—had no idea that, at that very moment, surveillance threads were being spun all around her. Not that she cared.

Her mind was busy with more pressing issues.

Like avoiding the damn system from popping up again and forcing her to act like a proper protagonist on some romance route she didn’t ask for. Or trying not to die in the process of surviving an academy full of bipolar nobles and villainesses with empress complexes.

She didn’t have time to wonder what it meant to be a Nen with Non-Elemental Magic. No. Her only concern was finding any way to live in peace.

Though, of course… even that felt like asking too much.