“Hmph, you've all been dazzled by my handsomeness, haven’t you?”

Under the focused spotlight at the dormitory building’s entrance, standing triumphantly atop the monstrous, deceased, massive body, Moen maintained his striking pose, reminiscent of Rodin’s "The Thinker."

Feeling the gazes of shock, admiration, and an undefinable sense from the crowd around him, Moen couldn’t help but feel a surge of elation in his heart.

Due to his predecessor’s wrongdoings, compounded by the rumors spread by the student news club, Moen had been deeply troubled by the prejudices surrounding him recently.

But now, he finally had an opportunity to show off a bit. Even if he couldn’t erase all the biases in an instant, at the very least, his image could improve in the eyes of others.

At the very least, he could ensure that people understood:

I,

Moen Campbell,

am not someone who juggles relationships with thirteen girls.

Nor am I some sleazy creep whose mind only revolves around flirting with girls.

But a genuine man who stands up in moments of crisis!

Reine, are you watching this?

Surely, at this moment, all those adorable junior girls are looking at me with admiration in their eyes.

This is it; my days of being liked and appreciated by school girls have finally arrived…

“Ahem —

Why isn’t he wearing clothes?”

At that very moment, a naive, childlike voice pierced through the air.

It felt as if, in some fairy tale, the innocent child boldly spoke the truth only they dared to utter.

Huh?

Moen froze upon hearing those words.

What do you mean not wearing clothes?

Who’s not wearing clothes?

The autumn chill, paired with that innocent remark, made Moen instinctively lower his head, and then—

He saw exactly what he wished he hadn't seen: a certain part of himself, exposed. A part that, if found in public view, would provoke police intervention for acts of indecency or lewd behavior.

“No way…”

Moen’s previously confident smile froze, his lips twitching awkwardly.

The memories in his mind began to rewind in fast motion, taking him back to the moment he had removed his clothes to drink the magical potion given to him by senior.

Then, like a video playback, the sequence of events unfolded bit by bit in his head.

From that point forward, up until now.

During this time, he’d devoted half his energy to frantically searching for clothing.

But did he ever actually put any on?

...No.

He completely forgot.

Because of his intense battle with Reine, he'd entirely forgotten—

The undeniable fact that he wasn’t wearing clothes.

“Ahhhhh— Reine, you bastard, you’ve dug my grave too!”

Forgetting something this important was heinous enough, but why didn’t you remind me sooner?!

So I just jumped down, stark naked like this?

And right in front of hundreds of people?

Oh my God, just kill me already!

*Click.*

Amidst Moen’s overwhelming shame and frustration, he heard a distinctive sound again.

Based on his predecessor’s memory, he instantly recognized it.

This was the sound of the special recording magic known as the “Retain Image Spell” being used.

Due to the Empire’s strict regulations, all Retain Image Spells now featured an audible “click” mechanism each time they were activated.

And so, in the silence of the night—

*Click.*

*Click.*

*Click.*

The sound of shutter clicks echoed incessantly.

“You… you all must stop! Taking photos like this will have serious consequences for Moen!”

As the student council secretary, Weier naturally couldn’t tolerate illegal or improper acts, even in this chaotic situation. Blushing profusely, she tried to stop the crowd. At the same time, her own hand surged with magical power, furiously emitting a rapid string of clicks: *ClickClickClickClickClickClickClickClickClick!*

“...”

Moen was utterly numb. His eyes lifeless and glassy, resembling those of a dead fish.

Dear heavens, send someone to strangle me quickly.

I can’t live like this anymore. If it goes on like this, even a tough guy like me will end up crying…

“Ughhh…”

Yes, even I might cry like this.

Hm?

Wait.

It doesn’t feel like I’m the one crying right now.

But how can someone else be crying when I’m the one being publicly humiliated?

Startled, Moen instinctively followed the sound of crying and discovered that the source wasn’t among the surrounding students. Instead, the forlorn sobbing was coming from the pierced relic—the sacred tome.

Wait, what? A book crying?

“What is this—”

A sudden, nightmarish chill crawled up Weier’s spine, and her blushing face instantly turned pale.

The ominous premonition she had felt lingering since the sacred tome’s destruction surged back stronger than ever, hammering at her heart violently.

Without hesitation—

“Moen Campbell, RUN!”

“Huh?!”

Moen froze momentarily in confusion before snapping back to his senses.

Without even sparing a second thought for his being nude, he decisively turned tail and dashed away as quickly as he could.

Anyway, everything’s already been exposed; who cares at this point?

Survival comes first!

“Wahhhhhh…”

Just as Moen began his frantic retreat, the sacred tome’s sobbing turned more wretched, resembling the whistling wind through haunting ruins.

Goosebumps pricked his skin as he suddenly felt the deceased flesh and blood beneath his feet begin to squirm again.

Like an army of ants drawn to sugar, the grotesque flesh relentlessly surged toward the now battered sacred tome.

Inside, the tome’s cries ceased temporarily, replaced by the horrifying sounds of ravenous consumption.

“Could it be…”

Witnessing this grotesque scene, Weier experienced an unprecedented moment of clarity.

She suddenly realized what had been bothering her all along.

That monstrous entity—it had all gone far too seamlessly.

Enticing hatred with attractive hostages, provoking an attack, succumbing, blackening, transforming into a formidable monster, and ultimately drawing the crowd’s relentless assault.

Everything fell perfectly into place.

Except the way events developed had strayed far from their original intent—the mission to force Moen Campbell to show up.

Everything felt eerily divergent, as though Moen Campbell had never been the true goal of those sinister devotees.

Instead, their purpose…

Was to provoke an overwhelming siege.

A siege that would expose them to endless magic.

Thus enabling them to harvest… enormous quantities of magical energy!

And now, they’d succeeded.

As immense amounts of magic-infused gore were absorbed by the sacred tome, its thick pages began to levitate, delicately flipping open like vast, unfolding gates.

And from within its abyssal pages came faint, echoing footsteps.

Something… was emerging!

“Don’t just stand there! Attack! Use magic and destroy it now!”

Weier urgently snapped at the stunned crowd.

Even if the flesh was impervious to magical attacks, the tome surely wasn’t the same.

Otherwise, it wouldn’t have evaded their offensive earlier!

It had to be destroyed before whatever resided inside came out!

Immediately, hundreds of dazzling spells were unleashed. Even Weier began chanting her most powerful incantation, pouring her energy into an all-out assault on the tome.

But it was too late.

Or rather, perhaps it had already been too late the moment the magic-infused flesh reached a critical threshold.

In advance of the crowd’s assault, a single hand emerged from the tome’s pages.

A long, slender, pale hand.

The hand spread its fingers wide, aiming directly at the incoming torrent of magical energy.

And with a soft squeeze—

It was as if the world itself had been compressed within its grasp.

Sharp, cloth-tearing sounds reverberated, freezing the turbulent wind and air around them.

It felt as though space itself had been suspended in the presence of the deceptively delicate hand.

The kaleidoscope of magical attacks crumpled under an immense, invisible force, shrinking, condensing, smaller and smaller.

Like a child’s favorite marble-shaped candy, it was flicked back into the abyssal pages of the tome’s darkness.

*Gulp.*

A sound of swallowing echoed.

Such utter satisfaction.