Chapter 47 — A Contractual Agreement
I pulled back slightly. My hands trembled on the blanket, and my heart was still racing. Dzao's words echoed in the room, bouncing off the walls like living things.
"I... I don't understand what you mean," I said, trying to put as much innocence as I could into my voice.
Dzao stared at me for a few seconds. His white hair shimmered like silver in the dim light, and his eyes—deep and sharp—seemed to read every thought inside me. Then he shrugged.
"Fine. Let it go."
He turned and sat down on the old wooden chair by the table. The chair creaked, bending slightly under his weight. He placed his hands on the table and interlaced his fingers.
"Let's have a proper talk. What happened?"
I took a deep breath. The air in the room was heavy and still—the last rays of sunlight streaming through the window, setting dust motes dancing in the air.
"Well... he came after you left..."
And I recounted the events one by one. The detective's questions, the bloodstains, the sand particles, my false story about Izabella—everything. Dzao listened in silence, his expression betraying neither surprise nor disapproval. Only a cold, measuring gaze.
---
A Little While Later
Dzao tapped the table lightly with his finger. The sound resonated through the room.
"Yes, I understand. So that's how it was. But there's something I don't get—why was there no trace of the demonic pill left in you?"
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Normally, after using it, a small residue remains in the body, and it's not hard to detect. But... why couldn't he sense it? Such a powerful detective?"
I widened my eyes, feigning surprise. "Is he really that famous?"
Dzao nodded. "Yes. The Empire has specially trained military professions. Detection is one of them. They are chosen based on innate abilities."
"I see. It's no surprise he has such powerful skills."
"Yes, absolutely. But what interests me is... what's inside you."
He raised his finger and looked at me.
"I need to check."
"O—"
"Ohhh... someone's coming this way."
Dzao suddenly snapped his fingers. A thin, almost inaudible sound spread through the air. I looked outside—through the window, I could see the shadow of a nun approaching. Her steps were slow and measured.
"But... she's stopped," I said, confused.
Dzao smiled. "No. She's just frozen in time. I've hidden her."
His eyes gleamed, and a mysterious smile appeared on his lips. "It'll take a while. Stand up."
"Uhhh... is now really the time for this? I mean, my core..."
Dzao said nothing. He reached out and touched the tip of my nose with his index finger.
"Shhhhhhhh."
His finger was cold and light—like a shard of ice brushing against my skin.
"We'll talk about this later. Don't worry—you still have one day."
He gently held my head and helped me stand. His hands were firm but careful. I managed to get to my feet with difficulty—my body still felt weak from the pain and exhaustion.
Dzao was wearing gloves—black, made of thin leather, fitting snugly to the tips of his fingers. He slowly removed them. Each finger slipped out of the glove with a faint rustling sound.
He shook his hand, cracked his knuckles, and brought his palm close to my back.
"Stay still," he said softly.
The moment Dzao's palm touched my back, a strange coldness spread through my body. This was no ordinary chill—it felt like something foreign was moving through my veins, inspecting every ounce of energy inside me. My breath involuntarily stopped. My hands gripped the blanket tightly.
What is he checking me with?
Dzao stood in that position for several seconds. His face was etched with deep concentration, his eyes closed, tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
Then suddenly, he pulled his hand away.
And put his gloves back on.
I looked at him in confusion. "Is it done?"
"Yes. It's done."
"What... what were you looking for?"
He looked at me. His eyes were softer now, but still deep.
"Is there any problem?"
"Hmmm... this is new. It's probably the amount and quality of energy in you... and at the same time, you have energy that's close to demonic energy, just as it is. Maybe it completely absorbed the demonic energy."
I widened my eyes. "I understand. I have strange power. Is this... connected to this thing?"
I pointed to the small scar between my ribs. A faint, pale mark on my skin—shaped like a lightning bolt.
Dzao looked at it. His gaze lingered on the scar for a few seconds. Then he shook his head.
"No, this probably isn't a curse. It looks like something else. Something more... and very ancient."
He looked at the scar with curiosity, then back at me.
"Lie down properly," he said.
I obeyed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, the exhaustion made itself known again.
"Now, back to the main issue."
Dzao placed his hands on his knees and looked at me directly.
"I have three conditions. By tomorrow morning, the medicine will be in your hands."
I paused for a moment, thinking. Then I pressed my lips together and said firmly:
"No. You can't impose conditions. I'm your student, and on top of that, we have an agreement. If you break it, you'll lose part of your power."
Dzao looked at me for a few seconds. Then he suddenly laughed.
"Yes, you're definitely not an eight-year-old."
His laugh was soft but meaningful.
"But... you'll lose your life."
"Your school's reputation in the Empire will decline."
"No, it won't. Because providing for students is done under the director's orders, not by his actions. Even if we assume you're right—what difference does it make?"
"Ugh... annoying."
"Kid, you're nerve-wracking."
He laughed again. But this time, there was a hint of warmth in it.
"Fine, fine. Just one condition."
"Ohh... I'm glad you agreed."
He slowly stood up and hurried toward the door.
"Only on the condition that you state the condition beforehand."
He stopped. He stood still for a few seconds. Then slowly turned and looked at me.
He smirked slightly and came back, sitting down again.
"Fine, you've convinced me."
"Ohh... there's someone in the hall again."
Dzao suddenly raised his hand. A flash of light shimmered in the air—and he teleported the frozen person to another dimension, hiding them. The nun approaching from the opposite direction simply passed by, unaware.
"Now it's done. Speak."
I steadied my breath and began:
"Alright. The condition is this—you must participate in the inter-academy tournament at the end of the school year, and no matter what, you must win."
"What happens if I don't win?"
"I don't know. Maybe you'll end up with a huge debt—equal to the value of that medicine. Or you'll be expelled. We'll figure it out then. But one thing's for sure—it won't be a light punishment."
"Understood. I agree."
"You agree?"
"Yes."
"So quickly? Why?"
I narrowed my eyes and replied with a faint smile:
"What does it matter? You need to bring the medicine by tomorrow."
Dzao laughed again. This time, there was a mix of surprise and curiosity in his laugh.
"Brilliant, Kael. Now you'll raise my school's reputation."
He smirked and tilted his head slightly.
"One day, I'll leave that bastard's school behind."
"Alright... goodbye then."
In an instant, his body grew faint. His white hair swayed gently in the air, as if dissolving into mist. The next second, he was gone—as if he had never been there at all. Only the slightly shifted chair and a faint, sharp scent lingering in the air reminded me of his presence.
"Ugghhhh... finally, peace."
I placed my hand over my face. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"I managed... for now."
His suspicions clearly remained. He'll check others too. It's obvious that a lot of things about me are strange. That's why he'll probably be watching me for a long time.
"Ahhh... there's no point thinking about this now. I just need to be more careful—even with my words."
Now what do I do? Something...
The door creaked open slowly.
"Now who is it?"
I lifted myself slightly and looked toward the door. In the dim light, I saw a silhouette—medium height, broad shoulders, black hair falling loose.
"Hello," I said, trying to put as much friendliness into my voice as I could.
"Yes, is your name Kael?"
"Kael Grenfort."
"Yes, that's it."
He stepped inside. His eyes—red, burning like flames—glowed in the darkness. His steps were heavy and confident, an aura of threat radiating from his entire being.
Behind him, a nurse entered. She carried a tray of food.
"Here, take it. You were sleeping when I brought lunch earlier," she said with a smile.
Then she noticed Jean and stopped. "Oh! You have a guest? Then I'll leave quickly."
She placed the tray in front of me—hot soup, bread, and a cup of tea. Then she slowly walked toward the door.
"Sorry for interrupting your conversation," she said.
"It's alright. I was hungry anyway. Thank you very much," I said, trying to smile warmly.
"Alright, bye," she said and left.
The moment the nurse left, Jean looked at me. His red eyes burned in the darkness like two torches. The air in the room suddenly grew heavy.
"Ummmm... what were we talking about?" I asked, feigning innocence.
"Ah, nothing," he said and slowly approached, sitting down on the chair opposite me. The chair creaked, bending slightly under his weight. His hands rested on his knees, his fingers tapping lightly.
"What happened on the roof?"
"Who are you?"
"I... I'm from the Grimjaw family."
His voice carried a cold, metallic timbre. His red eyes stared at me, as if dissecting my soul.
"So... what did you do?"
"You might be connected to the death of one of our family members."
My heart started racing.
So they suspect me... Do they really think an eight-year-old kid could kill someone as strong as Izabella? Fools.
"I-I don't know... n-nothing... You chicken-brained idiots!"
The last words slipped out involuntarily. I widened my eyes, trying to play the part of an excited, scared young child. But inside, anger was boiling.
Jean laughed. His laugh was cold and threatening. He slowly rose from his seat and stepped closer.
"Let's try again..."
He reached out and grabbed my neck. His fingers—hard, iron-strong—began to squeeze.
Breathing became difficult. Air barely made it into my lungs. Black spots appeared before my eyes.
"I just told the truth... please, don't do this!" I said, struggling. My voice came out hoarse, barely audible.
What can I do in this situation? The best move would be not to make him look like a fool... but I couldn't control myself.
Jean's fingers tightened further. Tears welled in my eyes—this time, from real pain.
Then suddenly—footsteps. From the direction of the door. Familiar, light footsteps.
Jean instantly loosened his grip and stepped back. He sat back down, trying to hide the threat on his face—but his red eyes still burned like flames.
The door slowly opened.
"Hello, Sister Sabrine!" Jean said, trying to put a pleasant tone into his voice.
Sabrine stepped inside. Her light blue dress brought a gentle color and warmth into the room. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and she carried a small basket in her hand.
"Hello, Jean. What are you doing here?"
Jean licked his lips and answered: "I just wanted to know what happened on the roof. And we're already done talking."
He stood up.
"I can leave now, no problem."
There was a cold irony in his words. He walked toward the door but stopped and looked at me.
"Oh, and one more thing. I did take a rather foolish step. I suppose I should thank you for opening my eyes. After all, what could a bastard bloody ordinary child possibly do?"
A mocking smile appeared on his lips, and he walked out the door.
The door closed.
Sabrine looked at me. There was a mixture of surprise and concern on her face.
"Uh... he was surprised. He looked at me for a bit... what was he doing? Something felt strange."
"Yes... nothing happened," I said, rubbing my neck. The marks of Jean's fingers still burned beneath my skin.
Sabrine stared at me for a few seconds, then a warm smile appeared on her face.
"Alright, good," she said and reached out her hand. In her hand, a small basket appeared—woven from willow twigs, filled with gleaming red apples and a few sweets.
"I brought these for you," she said, placing the basket in front of me.
I looked at her in surprise. "I didn't expect this... thank you."
"Well, your parents aren't here. I should be able to fill that gap. Here..."
There was a genuine warmth in her words. I looked at Sabrine—there was a mixture of sadness and care in her eyes.
"Yes, very good."
"Oh, sorry... did you say something?"
"Yes, I just wanted to say you're a wonderful person."
Sabrine suddenly laughed. Her laugh was soft and sincere—it lightened the heavy atmosphere in the room in an instant.
"Haha, thank you for that. I have things to do, I'll be going now."
She stood up and walked toward the door. At the door, she stopped and looked back at me.
"I'm sure everything will be alright," she said and left.
The door closed.
The room sank back into silence.
"Now then..." I said and took an apple from the basket. The apple was red, smooth, and gleaming—like a small flame.
"Let's eat some apple. Can't use magic either... how boring. And this pain again..."
I bit into the apple.
Crunch... crunch... nom... nom...
"Delicious apple!"
I took another bite, then another. The sweet and tart taste spread through my mouth.
"Thank you, Sabrine..."
I laughed with a sincere smile.
Outside the window, the sun had fully set, and darkness was beginning to cover the sky. But in the room, the red of the apples in the basket and Sabrine's warm smile still lingered in the air.
Silence enveloped the room. I continued eating the apple, and in that brief moment of peace, even the pain seemed to fade slightly.