"Whew."

Moen let out a breath and opened his eyes, staring blankly at the daylight.

For a moment, his gaze was lost, seemingly unable to recover from the scene he'd just experienced. Only when a trace of icy coldness seeped into his mind did his soul finally pull itself free from the bloody, bladed darkness of the night.

Sparse snowflakes floated down from the sky, dissolving upon his skin. The bare branches of sycamore trees shimmered with silvery frost, like art created by the strokes of a painter's brush.

He was currently sitting under the familiar sycamore grove, surrounded by quiet solitude, undisturbed.

Serene and beautiful.

“It’s been a while since I trained in Black Book. Feels like…maybe I've been playing a bit too hard.”

Feeling the faint emptiness in his mind caused by mental exhaustion and the phantom pain that seemed to linger in his body, Moen rubbed his temples and couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly.

Unknowingly, this once pampered son of a duke had transformed into someone who couldn’t sit around for even a moment.

Barely freed from the grasp of Teacher Mela’s relentless training, he was supposed to be enjoying this long-awaited freedom. Yet not only at night—even in idle moments—his mind would somehow bring him back into Black Book’s virtual world, confronting unsettlingly realistic scenarios while holding Elizabeth.

Blade clashing against blade, flesh contending with flesh, fighting to the death.

Strangely enough, he even found it thrilling.

Wait...

Moen snapped to attention.

Thrilling?

Getting stabbed—a torturous ordeal—was something he actually found thrilling? Was he becoming... a masochist?

"No, no, no, no! I'm absolutely not a masochist!"

Moen vigorously shook his head in denial.

The only reason he felt exhilarated was because his brain, compensating for his body’s intense pain, frantically released dopamine.

It was similar to how fitness enthusiasts gradually become addicted to exercise—not a sign of twisted psychology, but rather the normal chemical reactions in the body.

"Exactly, I’m someone destined to rise above! There's no way I could be a masochist."

Having found a scientific explanation, Moen grinned in satisfaction. He stretched out and completely relaxed on the bench.

For now, he needed to unwind…

“Moen Campbell!”

A sudden, familiar shout startled the snow resting on the branches.

“I knew you'd be here!”

"Hmm?"

Moen casually tilted his head to avoid the falling snow, then turned toward the direction of the voice.

Black hair cascaded freely, and her makeup-free face, though not conventionally stunning, had an enduring charm. Her lips curved into a confident, slightly mischievous smile.

The girl stood with her hands on her hips, her modest and somewhat oversized uniform hinting at her unmistakable trademark—her flat chest.

Ariel.

And behind her...Lea.

However, Lea tilted her head, avoiding eye contact with Moen, entirely disinterested in conversation—so naturally, Moen wouldn’t bother trying.

Redirecting his gaze, Moen briefly looked at Ariel's deliberately puffed-out chest and couldn't help but show a trace of pity.

Still the same, no change at all.

Not surprising, really. According to Lea, Ariel had been stuck eating black bread every day during this period—which made any sort of "development" impossible.

“What are you staring at?” Ariel suddenly raised her brows and snapped.

"Ahem."

Moen coughed dryly, trying to mask his rude gaze. Smiling, he said:

“Long time no see, Ariel. How have you been lately?”

“Hmph, don’t pretend to care. We’re not that close,” she replied coldly.

"..."

Still as unfriendly as ever.

“So, did you need me for something?”

“Hmm... I just noticed that you've started attending classes again, so I came to return something to you.” Ariel crossed her arms and replied coolly.

“Return something to me?”

Moen paused, puzzled.

He couldn’t recall Ariel owing him anything.

As he wondered, Ariel pulled out a large suitcase.

She opened it.

Naturally, it was packed to the brim with something Moen was very familiar with—cash.

“Take back this million. I don’t want your dirty money!”

"…Is this about that again?"

Moen sighed, “You don't have to return it. I already said, it's my way of apologizing for what I did to you before, as well as a gesture of gratitude.”

“Well, I don’t want it!” Ariel said with a dismissive sneer.

“Who knows what kind of scheme you’re plotting, thinking this could corrupt my soul and lower my guard around you? Not today!”

"..."

“Anyway, take back your dirty money! We owe each other nothing!”

Ariel tossed the suitcase to Moen, grabbed Lea, and turned to leave.

Moen looked down at the box in his arms, then glanced briefly at Lea, who still hadn’t said a word. Finally, he called out to Ariel’s retreating figure:

“Are you sure you don’t want it? I heard you’ve been having a rough time lately. You could consider it a loan—interest-free.”

“...No need,” said Ariel, her body pausing momentarily before her tone became resolute.

“I'll overcome all those difficulties through my own efforts. I don’t need your pity!”

“Is that so?”

“Of course. Someone like you, lounging around during the day instead of working hard, wouldn’t understand," Ariel retorted, clearly disdainful.

“Wouldn’t understand, huh…”

Moen tilted his head slightly, thought for a moment, and then smiled casually:

“Well, that’s too bad.”

If Ariel didn’t want it, he couldn’t exactly force her, could he?

"Hmph."

With a smug, dismissive snort, Ariel walked off with Lea, her back confident and proud, resembling the unwavering hero from a tale—continuing boldly toward her journey…

But midway along this journey, the hero unexpectedly turned around, marching back to Moen with determined steps.

She extended a small hand.

"Uh?"

"The case..."

"What?" Moen was entirely baffled.

"I said the case!"

Ariel, biting her lip in frustration, huffed and muttered:

“The case costs money too. Don’t think you can just take it for free!”

"..."

And so, the hero finally turned back—for 126 Emil, the case's price.

…

Moments later.

A figure once again returned to the grove.

It was Lea.

“Apologies,” she said softly, clasping her fingers as she stood before Moen.

“Ariel is too stubborn.”

“I don’t know if there is anything you have to apologize for.”

Moen raised an eyebrow, looking at her with a smile.

“Besides, Ariel’s temperament is kind of cute, don’t you think?”

Stubborn.

It could also be seen as persistent.

Sticking firmly to her principles and beliefs.

Without such resilient qualities, even with destiny and fortuitous opportunities, she couldn’t possibly become the singularly fated protagonist of overlord in this terrifying world.

In a sense, Ariel’s decisions at this moment weren’t surprising.

But being overly focused on her own path meant she might instinctively overlook those by her side.

Like the adorable girl standing before Moen now.

“Shall we begin?”

“Alright.”

Without further words, within the solitude of the sycamore grove, Lea picked up her violin as promised and began her performance.

Moen closed his eyes and listened.

The music flowed like a gentle stream, soothing away weariness.

Before he realized it, Moen had drifted into slumber…

…

“Was my performance…not good enough?”

Who knew how much time had passed. When Moen reopened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Lea’s pouting, rather indignant face.

“You even fell asleep out of boredom!”

“Ah, sorry about that.”

Feeling refreshed and free of any lingering emptiness in his mind, Moen stretched contentedly, smiling:

“It wasn’t out of boredom at all. On the contrary, your music making me feel so utterly at peace shows just how wonderful it is.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Moen casually drew out a stack of cash from Ariel’s rejected million and handed it to Lea, jokingly saying:

“Come now, Lea. Have a little faith in yourself! You’re my highly paid personal musician—I wouldn’t pay unless you lived up to the title.”

"Hmph."

Lea accepted the money with a soft hum, her cheeks flushed pink at some fleeting thought lingering in her mind.

…

After Lea left, Moen remained reclined on the bench, watching the sky darken and listening to youthful laughter emanating from nearby after-class commotion.

“Feels like things have really settled down.”

No dark gods.

No enemies.

No life-and-death threats.

No chaotic turmoil.

And no blades perpetually hovering near his neck.

Lectures.

Training.

Battling enemies occasionally in Black Book, enduring Teacher Mela’s hellish lessons.

Listening to Lea’s enchanting music.

And sneaking out of the academy from time to time to enjoy enchanting nights with Senior.

Everything felt so peaceful.

“This is the beautiful campus life I’ve longed for.”

Immersed in the intoxicating serenity, Moen’s lips instinctively curled into a blissful smile.

No matter what, the antagonists wouldn’t stir up trouble anytime soon. With Teacher Mela stationed at the academy, it was impossible for accidents to occur.

Not to mention that in the original narrative, this segment of the story was merely glossed over—no unforeseen disruptions could arise.

So, for now, he could simply enjoy…

“Been quite leisurely lately, Moen Campbell.”

Suddenly, at the other end of the bench, a figure Moen was all too familiar with appeared out of nowhere.

The man was dressed impeccably in a tailor-fitted gentleman’s suit, his hat perched flawlessly atop his head without even the slightest tilt. Clutched tightly in his hand was a silver cane adorned with a brilliant gemstone and engraved with intricate runes.

Unannounced, he took a seat at the bench’s edge.

Though his tone carried a hint of teasing, his aged face remained stern and formal.

"P…Professor Pulan?"

The smile on Moen's lips froze instantly. He stiffly turned his head to look at the elderly man sitting next to him, and a sudden sense of foreboding welled up in his heart.

"I've been attending classes properly lately, no skipping!" Moen instinctively sat up straight and exclaimed with a slightly panicked tone.

"I'm not here to hold you accountable for skipping classes."

"Then... then I also didn’t force Lea into anything. What we have between us is pure..."

"You don't need to worry about that either."

Professor Pulan gave Moen a faintly amused glance and said:

"Although I admit that I’m a rigid old man, I’m not so rigid as to interfere in consensual and fair transactions like that.

...As long as you don’t take things too far later and end up bullying the young lady, the academy tends to turn a blind eye to such matters."

"Haha, is that so..."

Moen chuckled dryly in response, his mind racing.

He’s not here to catch me skipping classes, nor is he here to stop my dealings with Lea...

Then why is Professor Pulan here?

I haven’t done anything bad recently!

Surely he’s not here to discuss life aspirations with me, right?

"Moen,"

While Moen was still puzzled, Professor Pulan slowly spread the fingers of one hand and gripped his cane firmly. On his stern and weathered face appeared a kind smile, one that only made Moen feel increasingly uneasy.

"Have you heard of... the Holy Baptism ceremony of the Life Church?"