Night deepened over Vanhart Estate.
Most lights were doused.
Servants retreated.
The wind rested.
But in the far wing of the manor—the one people rarely entered unless duty demanded—one door remained unlatched.
And a single lamp continued to burn.
Kel von Rosenfeld did not go to his room.
Instead, he walked the corridor that led to the old library.
His boots made almost no sound.
His coat trailed behind him like a subdued shadow, his hair shifting with each quiet step. If anyone had seen him walking through the unlit halls, they might've thought him a specter—save for the solid way he moved, the unwavering rhythm of his breathing.
He opened the library door without hesitation.
No need to knock.
At this hour, only ghosts haunt shelves.
He was greeted by a scent—old paper, dried ink, and roots from the dried herbs stored in open drawers for preservation.
Dust motes danced slowly in slanted moonlight, filtering through tall arched windows. Bookshelves climbed the walls like sleeping giants, full of knowledge left to slumber.
A single oil lamp flickered near the reading table.
Good.
Less light means fewer distractions.
He set his coat over the back of a chair.
Pulled his tied hair loose.
Sat.
Then began.
The Study
He selected volumes one after another.
Not for theory. For result.
"Principles of Northern Alchemy: Root-Element Stabilization"
"Thermal Compensation and Snow-Based Cultivation"
"Herbal Nerve Reconstruction Procedures"
"The Treatise of Bone-Weave Binding"
Each tome opened under his fingers with the familiarity of long habit. Kel had not trained as an alchemist, but he had studied systems too meticulously to overlook details. Healing Lysenne's legs was not only aura, not only Sairen's blessing.
It needed structural reinforcement.
Mapping of veins.
Root-like growth of channels.
Just as Harlroot grew strongest in winter soil.
As he read…
He didn't blink often.
Didn't frown.
Just took in everything—and weighed its use.
His posture remained composed.
Elbows resting lightly on table, chin near paper.
His hair occasionally fell across his face.
He didn't brush it away.
It moved with the slight shift of his breath.
The lamp flame trembled as though affected by his concentration.
Minutes passed.
He flipped pages rapidly, intuition accelerating what most would take weeks to digest.
His fingers paused.
Eyes narrowed.
Page 342.
"Veins damaged by unnatural external force must be reconstructed through micro-pulse elemental infusion. Stabilization required before movement allowed."
Good.
Page turn.
"In the case of multi-year nerve dormancy, reactivation techniques must be threaded with high-precision aura control, as reawakening can lead to catastrophic overload."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Already anticipated.
He reached for another tome.
He read.
And as ink sank deeper into his thoughts, something else stirred.
A faint presence by his shoulder.
Not visible.
Not physical.
Sairen.
The lake guardian whispered, her voice like ripples across moonlit water.
"…You continue even now?"
It's necessary.
You walked away from her room with nearly collapsed meridians.
I walked away upright.
Your body will break before your will.
Then I'll repair it after.
Silence.
Then—
… Reckless.
A pattern.
A faint note of disapproval curved through her telepathic tone.
Followed by something softer.
Not just healer. Strategist.
Kel didn't reply.
He turned another page.
Hours passed.
The estate slept.
The lamp flickered low.
Kel wrote notes in crisp script.
Not on paper.
In his memory.
Most wouldn't understand the system without written components.
Kel didn't need to.
He already had one.
Faint light bloomed at the edge of his vision.
Not from lamp.
From the system.
A window opened silently, invisible to the world.
*ding*
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Progress Tracking — Studies (Mental Processing Rate x3)
• Medical Alchemy (Structural Healing) — 48% comprehension
• Harlroot Growth Optimization — 36% initial analysis
• Nervous System Reconnection Methods — 51% readiness Current Limitation: Body fatigue (Aura channels at 16% stability)
Recommendation: Rest recommended within 27 minutes to prevent backlash. New Potential Insight Detected: "Essence of Breath" may be adaptable into healing flow.
Kel's eyes shifted slightly, reading without moving his head.
"…Interesting."
He turned to a worn notebook stacked in the corner—an early version of his breath technique.
He remembered cold nights. Moonlit breaths.
Pain turned into rhythm.
But until now…
It had never occurred to use it outwardly.
To shape someone else's breath.
Not just steady their pain.
It might work.
He turned to the next system entry.
Another line appeared.
As if the system, now awakened, responded like it had waited through years of silence.
Suggestion: Link external breathing pattern to recipient during treatment. Recommend synchronization: Kel (root pulse) — Lysenne (surface breath) Risk: emotional resonance (high)
Kel's fingers paused over the text that only he could see.
He leaned back slightly.
Moonlight framed his face.
His eyes lowered.
"…Emotional resonance," he murmured.
Sairen's whisper brushed close.
Are you afraid it will harm the treatment?
He did not answer immediately.
He looked toward the window, where snow drifted slow and silent.
Then—
"Not afraid of harm," he said softly.
"Afraid it will help too much."
Sairen didn't respond.
Some truths didn't need remarks.
He closed the final tome.
Stacked the books.
Blew out the lamp.
But did not move to leave yet.
He remained seated.
Hands folded in his lap.
Head lowered.
The moonlight traced over his hair, casting half of his face in silvered quiet.
In the silence, the system flickered one last line.
Achievement Condition Detected: "Boundary Between Healer and Tether" — Insight: imminent
Kel's eyes closed.
Not from exhaustion.
From careful thought.
How far must I walk before healing her becomes binding?
And do I care?
He stood finally.
Gathered the books he needed.
Left the rest.
When he put his coat back on, he paused a moment, fingers lingering against fabric.
As though grounding himself.
He whispered, barely audible.
"Seven days to make her stand."
His eyes sharpened.
"And six to prepare for the consequences."
He walked out of the library.
Silence closed behind him.
Only the dust, disturbed by turning pages, continued to drift in the moonbeam like quiet echoes of the night spent awake.