My eyes creaked open, vision blurry and my thoughts scattered. The first thing I saw was a dull white ceiling, sterile and painfully bright.
It took a few seconds, but the stiffness faded from my limbs. My body felt like I’d been slammed around by a freight train—again—but at least I wasn’t bleeding out anymore.
Turning my head, I spotted the familiar bubblegum pink hair of the nurse. Yep, same one. She was scribbling something on a sleek tablet, tapping it with her long, overly manicured nails.
’Huh... we’re back to sci-fi aesthetics now?’ I thought, blinking the haze out of my eyes.
She noticed me stirring, but didn’t bother greeting me like a normal person. Her eyes flicked up from her tablet, gave me a once-over, then went back down.
Not even a "good morning" for the guy who was grievously injured.
I slowly sat up on the bed, muscles groaning with resistance, but otherwise... no pain.
No lingering wounds. Internally, I ran a check, scanning for ruptured organs, or anything weird.
But surprisingly, everything was stable. No discomfort. Just a residual soreness, like I’d done a hundred squats with bad form.
Only problem? I was basically naked. Just a pair of black boxers covered my dignity.
My eyes widened, and they immediately snapped toward the nurse. My heart skipped a beat.
’Wait. Did she...? No. No way. Right?’
She didn’t even look flustered. In fact, she was glaring at her tablet with a bored expression, like my half-naked presence didn’t even register. Then she raised an eyebrow at my stunned silence.
"You and your sister are weird," she muttered without looking up. "It was necessary to take those rags off. They were doing more damage than good. Honestly, you’re lucky you weren’t infected. Tch."
Well... she wasn’t wrong. My clothes were basically burned through, slashed, and soaked in a cocktail of monster guts and my own blood.
Staying in them would’ve been a health hazard.
I nodded reluctantly.
She gave a satisfied smirk. "Good. At least you know when to shut up and listen."
With a flick of her finger, she pulled something from a side locker and pointed to it dramatically. A pristine set of folded clothes—white with regal golden linings. The Rose Academy uniform.
"Get dressed," she said, yawning. "You already missed your opening speech and your first class. Try not to completely flunk on your first day, golden boy."
I shot her a flat look. She smirked harder. I ignored her and stood up.
She raised an eyebrow as I casually grabbed the uniform and started putting it on. "Seriously? You’re just gonna change in front of me like that?"
"What, never seen a man before?"
"I have," she said smugly. "Plenty. But I expected at least a little shame. You know, some modesty in front of a hot lady."
I scoffed while pulling the shirt over my head. "Hot lady? Please. Aunty, stop fantasizing."
A vein popped on her forehead. "You little—!"
She hurled the tablet at me. I dodged. Effortlessly.
"Language! You mannerless bastard!"
As I adjusted the last button of the uniform, I flashed her a V sign through my fingers and stuck out my tongue in between. "I’ll send flowers when you retire, aunty."
And with that, I turned and left the medical ward.
No medical report. No discharge form. No annoying follow-up checkups.
I had more pressing things to do. Like heading to the library. Because I needed to tear that place apart until I found something—anything—about the thing that’s been chewing at the edges of my sanity lately.
Not just an idea, not just a void. It exists. Or doesn’t. Or... maybe that’s the point. I didn’t care how contradictory it sounded.
It didn’t want to kill me. It wanted to erase me. Maybe.
My feet pounded against the tiled halls of Rose Academy as I picked up pace. Students wandered here and there, dressed neatly, chatting about the exams or the lecture they just attended. I ignored all of them.
And bolted towards the library.
Because somewhere, buried in those mountains of old books and sealed archives, had to be something—anything—on Nothing.
But there was just one tiny, inconvenient little problem with my brilliant plan.
I had no idea where the library was.
And this damn place? It was massive—like a castle had an existential crisis and decided to evolve into a multidimensional labyrinth with hallways that defied all sense of direction.
Still, I was fairly certain the library had to be in the main building. That’s what every normal institution did, right?
Place the library somewhere central and prestigious. So, naturally, I began my very scientific process of locating it:
No map. No plan. Just vibes and blind confidence.
What about asking someone for directions? Now that would’ve been the sane thing to do.
Rational, even. But apparently, I had a brain tumor labeled "avoid human interaction at all costs" because the thought alone made my spine itch.
So, like a true idiot, I kept sprinting through corridors like I was being chased by an imaginary ghost.
And in that noble, valiant sprint, I swear I passed—no joke—at least six medical wards.
’Who the hell needs this many infirmaries in one academy?’
Seriously, was this place secretly a warzone? Did students duel with landmines? Did the cafeteria food turn people into zombies?
Every corner I turned either had another sterile-looking ward, a potion brewing lab bubbling with something ominous, or a research room that smelled like burnt leather and poor decisions.
Eventually, I slowed down and leaned against one of the marble pillars lining a wide hall.
The cool white stone pressed against my back as I took a few steady breaths. I wasn’t really tired—just bored. Irritated. Mildly lost. Okay, extremely lost.
My eyes lazily scanned the surroundings as I debated my life choices.
At one point, the dreadful, soul-wrenching thought of actually talking to another student crossed my mind.
Just a simple "Hey, where’s the library?" But I immediately punched that idea in the face and buried it where it belonged—under denial and social anxiety.
No. I’d find it myself. Eventually. Maybe by next year.
And then, something caught my eye.
From my angle leaning against the pillar, I could see into one of the arena sections of the building.
Apparently, this main structure was divided into several interconnected circular wings, and right in the middle of this particular one was a training coliseum.
Inside that arena—down on the stone-paved ground—was Mia.
Hovering over her was some guy. A student, probably. His posture? Suspicious. No—predatory. And his hands? They were most definitely not where they were supposed to be.
Every nerve in my body snapped taut.
Something inside me shifted. An old crack I hadn’t noticed before in the pillar behind me deepened with a faint creak.
Maybe I leaned too hard. Or maybe my mana flared unintentionally. Either way, it wasn’t the only thing about to snap.
Because that bastard in the arena?
He was about to crack too.
And I’d make damn sure of it.