It had to be said. Ilya Valentinovich Belozersky had always been an antagonist in the original novel.
The very first incident that revealed his hostility toward Siegfried, the Crown Prince and the story’s protagonist, had taken place on Mount Serebryany.
Knowing that future, Ilya had already prevented that outcome from ever occurring. It had not even been particularly difficult, because all he had needed to do was remove himself from the role the story had prepared for him.
The real problem, however, was never himself alone.
Who was to say the others who were destined to become antagonists would not pose the same danger?
The answer was, in theory, rather simple.
Those whom Ilya could still approach with his current position and influence, he sought out before the story could swallow them whole.
He had spoken with them, stayed close to them, and, before he even realized it, come to regard them as genuine friends rather than mere characters whose fates needed changing.
As for everyone else... he had originally believed he could leave them to Siegfried.
After all, Siegfried had been the protagonist.
No matter how overwhelming the obstacles before him became, the story had always bent in his favor, and the people Ilya could not save were the very people Siegfried was destined to reach instead.
That had been the role of a protagonist.
Unfortunately, Siegfried was dead.
"Concentrate, Belozersky!"
"Yes, sir!"
Ilya tightened his grip on the practice sword before immediately correcting his stance, forcing his wandering thoughts back to the lesson.
The instructor’s reprimand pulled him out of his thoughts at just the right moment.
Fortunately, there were only two months remaining before the end of the semester, and once that time came, he would finally be free to leave this humiliation ritual behind and transfer to the Magic Department.
* * *
"Miss de Beaumont."
"...."
"Miss de Beaumont?"
"...."
"Elise de Beaumont!"
"Yes!"
Elise abruptly rose from her seat. Her eyes remained unfocused, as though her thoughts were still somewhere far from the lecture hall, and it took her a second to realize that every student in the classroom was now staring at her.
The professor adjusted his spectacles before letting out a sigh.
"Since you seem to have finally returned to us, perhaps you can answer the question."
He tapped the chalk against the blackboard, where a neatly drawn diagram of nine concentric circles filled much of the surface.
"Explain the relationship between the Nine Circles of Magic and a wizard’s growth."
"...The Nine Circles represent the stages of a wizard’s development," Elise answered reflexively. "Each completed Circle serves as proof that a wizard has reached a higher level of magical attainment, allowing them to manipulate greater quantities of mana with increased output and efficiency."
The professor gave a slow nod.
"And what separates the Eighth Circle from the Ninth?"
"The Ninth Circle is regarded as the highest realm attainable by modern wizards. The gap between the Eighth and Ninth Circles is not just one of magical capacity, but of mastery itself. Countless wizards spend their entire lives at the Eighth Circle without ever crossing that final threshold."
She paused only for a moment before continuing.
"However, in recent years, a new theory has begun to circulate within the magical community. Although no conclusive proof has ever been presented, some scholars believe that a Tenth Circle may exist beyond the Ninth, and many regard our Headmaster, Archwizard Ragnar Leif Ylander, as the first wizard in history who may have reached it."
The professor nodded with clear satisfaction.
"A textbook answer," he remarked. "Whether the Tenth Circle truly exists remains a matter of debate, but the theory itself has become increasingly difficult to dismiss over the past decade."
He turned back toward the blackboard and drew a small mark just beyond the ninth circle.
"For nearly a thousand years, the Ninth Circle has been regarded as the absolute limit of mortal magic. Yet history has a habit of proving absolutes wrong, and every generation produces those foolish, or brilliant, enough to challenge what the previous one believed impossible."
A few students hurriedly copied his words into their notebooks.
"As aspiring wizards, it is your responsibility to understand the distinction between established magical theory and unverified hypothesis. You are free to believe in the existence of a Tenth Circle if you wish, but until undeniable evidence is presented, you will treat it as theory, not fact."
"Yes, Professor," the class answered in unison.
"Very good. Miss de Beaumont, you may sit."
Only then did Elise lower herself back into her chair.
The lecture continued exactly as before, yet the rows of notes spreading across the pages before her never truly reached her mind.
Later, when the lecture finally came to an end, Elise gathered her books and stepped out into the corridor along with the rest of the class.
Ordinarily, it would have been no different from any other day.
Yet to Elise, every glance felt much more suffocating than it should have.
——Isn’t that her?
——She killed them.
——She’s the reason they all died.
"...."
She knew no one had actually said those words.
Even so, every time someone looked in her direction for a second too long or lowered their voice as she passed by, her mind would instantly fill the silence with accusations that had never been spoken.
The more she tried to convince herself that it was only her imagination, the more real those imagined whispers became.
"Elise, hey, could I ask—"
"I didn’t!"
The student froze in place, his outstretched hand slowly falling back to his side as confusion gave way to discomfort.
Around them, several nearby students turned their heads toward the sudden outburst.
"Ah..."
Elise’s eyes widened.
"I-I’m sorry..."
Without waiting for a reply, she lowered her head and hurried past him, clutching her books tightly against her chest as she disappeared into the crowd.
Her pace quickened with every step until, distracted by her own thoughts, she collided squarely with someone’s back.
"S-Sorry—"
"...Hm?"
The person turned around.
"Ah."
"Ah..."
It was Ilya.
He looked at her with surprise before offering the same calm expression he always had.
"...Elise," he said. "It’s been a while..."
Elise bit her lower lip before giving a small nod.
"...Yes."
"How have you been?"
"...."
She looked at him without answering. His expression had not changed in the slightest. It was the same calm face she had known for years, as though Mount Serebryany had never happened at all.
Somehow, his composure irritated her more than any awkward attempt at reassurance could have.
"...How can you stay so calm?"
"Huh?"
"We were the only survivors," Elise said. "After everything that happened... after watching all of them die..."
She paused, lowering her gaze.
"And yet..."
"...."
"...You never visited me in the hospital even once."
"...."
"Jerk."
Before Ilya could respond, Elise turned away and vanished into the crowd as quickly as she had appeared.
"Elise, wait—"
Ilya instinctively reached out to stop her, but his hand came to a halt halfway through the air before slowly falling back to his side.
There was nothing he could possibly say that would make her turn around now, and forcing her to listen would only make things worse.
After standing there for a few more moments, he let out a sigh and resumed walking through the academy halls. He wandered through several corridors before eventually stopping beside a passing student.
"Excuse me," Ilya said. "Do you happen to know a teaching assistant by the name of Lischke?"
The student tilted his head.
"Lischke? I don’t know any teaching assistant by that name. But if you’re looking for Assistant Professor Adelheid, she’s probably in Professor Nordberg’s office."
"I see. Thank you."
"You’re welcome."
Without another word, Ilya turned and headed in the direction of Professor Nordberg’s office.