In the Hall of Learning within the Imperial Palace, Sophien received Deculein’s message from a maid.0

“… My deepest apologies, Your Majesty,” the maid said.0

“… It doesn’t matter. That’s just the kind of man that Professor is,” Sophien replied.0

Sophien understood his reasoning—he would come on the scheduled lesson day, next Wednesday, not today. Deculein had always been defined by his principled commitment. A man of unshakable conviction, rooted like an ancient tree, never bending to anything that challenged his sense of what was right.0

Then Sophien added, “If anything, seeing this has drained whatever interest I had in meeting him. Honestly, it’s for the best.”0

As Sophien stared at the wooden box containing Rohakan, a bitter taste settled on her tongue for reasons she could not quite place.0

How strange. This man deserved nothing but death—the one who assassinated the Empress, a disgrace upon the Empire’s history… and yet… Sophien thought.0

Creak—0

Sophien lifted the lid of the wooden box and fell silent. At first, she thought it couldn’t be Rohakan—the face inside was that of a boy. But as she looked closer, recognition settled in. Though his eyes were closed in stillness, the faint trace of mana around the head belonged to none other than Rohakan.0

“… So, he is indeed dead,” Sophien muttered, staring down at Rohakan’s severed head in the wooden box.0

Even in death, Rohakan did not seem like a corpse. At any moment, it felt as if his eyes might snap open, his voice breaking the silence—just as it had that day—admitting that he had killed her mother.0

“… This damned fool…”0

Sophien’s memories of the day Rohakan assassinated the Empress were scattered,...0