"…Wait," Ray said—then stopped himself.
His eyes widened slightly. He looked from Kael… to the door… to the floor, as if his mind were desperately trying to rearrange reality into something that made sense.
His grandfather.
That grandfather.
Was the headmaster of the academy where the novel took place—and the supposed mastermind behind nearly all the events in the story.
Ray swallowed.
His head throbbed—not with pain, not exactly, but with pressure. Like too many thoughts were trying to occupy the same space at once.
"So… he's here because of a deal you two made years ago," Ray said slowly, voice tight, "not out of love or any affection he holds for us."
Kael didn't answer out loud.
He didn't need to.
Ray's hands curled into the blanket. He stared down at them, flexed his fingers once, twice—alive, steady, whole.
Kael's silence was confirmation enough.
Ray let out a long breath. "Wow."
That was all he managed.
Just—
"Wow."
After all his effort to imagine himself as nothing more than a background character in a novel, he turned out to be the grandson of the headmaster.
Who would have thought?
Certainly not him.
The room lingered in that fragile stillness for a heartbeat longer.
Then—
"An understandable reaction."
The voice came from the doorway.
Calm. Smooth. Completely unbothered by the emotional landmine he had just stepped into.
Ray looked up.
And there he was.
Silver-white hair falling like moonlight over dark fabric. Skin pale, almost luminous. Crimson eyes sharp with intelligence—and unmistakably amused.
The description snapped into place instantly.
Oh.
Oh no.
Ray stiffened. "…You."
Arthur inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging a correct answer on an exam.
"I am neither your savior nor your family," Arthur said evenly. "Do not misunderstand."
He stepped into the room, his presence pressing in—not aggressively, but undeniably. Even the air seemed to straighten.
"I came because of a contract," Arthur continued. "A single favor. Long ago. In exchange for silence."
His crimson eyes slid briefly—briefly—to Kael.
Then back to Ray.
"That obligation is fulfilled."
Ray's chest tightened. "…Then why are you still here?"
Arthur's gaze sharpened.
Because now came the truth.
"Because," he said, voice cool and precise, "you interest me."
Ray blinked.
Arthur stepped closer to the bed—not looming, but studying.
"Not as a grandson," he added flatly. "I have no such attachment. Nor do I acknowledge any bond with your father beyond blood and inconvenience."
That stung.
Ray felt it anyway.
"But," Arthur continued, eyes glinting faintly, "as a mage… and as a scholar of mana?"
A pause.
"You are an anomaly. A rare one—but an anomaly nonetheless."
Ray swallowed. "That's… not reassuring."
Arthur's lips curved—not kindly.
"No," he agreed. "It is not."
The room fell quiet again.
Ray leaned back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling.
"…Figures," he muttered. "I survive one of the worst pains imaginable, and now the scariest guy alive wants to study me."
Arthur's eyes flickered—briefly amused.
Kael closed his eyes.
And somewhere deep inside Ray realized it.
Not with drama.
Not with a threat.
Just… inevitability.
Arthur stood at the foot of the bed now, hands clasped behind his back, crimson eyes calm as still water.
"You will come with me to the Academy."
The words landed softly.
And hit like a hammer.
Ray's fingers tightened in the sheets. His pulse spiked—not from fear, but from something colder.
No.
Not that.
Not the Academy.
Not the place where of all the conflict, scheme and those bullshit surrounding the protagonist.
"…No," Ray said, more breath than voice.
Arthur's brow lifted a fraction. "That was not a request."
Ray swallowed and forced himself upright, ignoring the lingering weakness in his limbs. His head still ached, a dull reminder of yesterday's agony—but his mind was sharp now. Too sharp.
"I don't want to go," Ray said clearly.
The room stilled.
Nora turned toward him, startled. "Ray—"
Kael didn't speak, but his shoulders tensed.
Arthur studied Ray in silence, as if measuring the weight of that refusal.
"You nearly destroyed your soul," Arthur said calmly. "You survived something seasoned mages fear. And you expect me to allow you to remain here—unobserved?"
Ray's jaw clenched.
"I didn't ask you to observe me."
"No," Arthur replied. "You forced me to notice you."
That sent a chill down Ray's spine.
He could feel it now—the invisible lines tightening, the way the world seemed to be narrowing around him.
This was it.
The pull.
It was what the author meant when they said you should go into the story to watch it unfold yourself.
Everything up until now—his awakening, the monster, the deterioration, Arthur's arrival—it all fit too cleanly.
Too perfectly.
The plot was aligning.
Ray looked away, heart pounding.
If I go to the Academy…
He knew what waited there.
The factions.
The conflicts.
The deaths he'd read about and tried to forget.
The beginning of the storm.
"I just want a normal life," Ray said quietly. "I don't want power. I don't want attention. I don't want to be part of… whatever this is."
Arthur's eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in focus.
"A normal life," he repeated. "After what you have done?"
He shook his head once. "That path no longer exists for you."
Ray snapped back, "You don't get to decide that."
For a moment, the air pressed.
Then Arthur smiled.
It wasn't cruel.
It was certain.
"The world already has," he said. "I am simply its representative."
Nora stepped forward, voice trembling but firm. "He's still a child."
Arthur looked at her—really looked.
Then inclined his head slightly. "Which is precisely why he will come now. Before the world tears him apart without guidance."
Ray felt his chest tighten.
He hated how reasonable it sounded.
"I won't force you in chains," Arthur continued, eyes returning to Ray. "But understand this: if you remain here, you will be hunted by your talent."
A pause.
"At the Academy, at least, I can help you grow."
That was the trap.
Protection disguised as control.
Ray closed his eyes briefly.
This is exactly how it starts, he thought.
The moment the protagonist steps onto the stage.
He opened them again and met Arthur's gaze.
"…If I go," Ray said slowly, choosing each word with care, "I go as a student. Nothing more. You don't experiment on me. You don't use me. And you don't drag my family into your politics."
Arthur considered him.
Long.
Then—unexpectedly—he nodded.
"Agreed," he said. "Except for not using you ."
Ray didn't miss that last part.
Kael finally spoke, voice rough. "Ray… you don't have to—"
Ray shook his head.
He was already standing at the edge of it.
Running wouldn't stop the story.
Only change how it unfolded.
"…I'll go," Ray said. "But not because I want to."
Arthur's crimson eyes glinted with approval.
"Excellent," he said. "The next semester begin in three month."
Ray's stomach dropped.
Of course they do.
As Arthur turned toward the door, his voice drifted back—calm, almost conversational.
"Rest," he added. "You will need every moment of peace you can get."
Then he left.
The room felt smaller once he was gone.
Ray stared at the wall, heartbeat loud in his ears.
The Academy.
The plot, the story he almost forgot begins.
And this time—
He wasn't just reading it anymore.