Bruns stood before the mirror, smoothing the deep-blue suit like evening waves settling on a lake. Inside, his shirt was white as fresh snow.

At his collar, a silver-gray tie lay neat, its white pinstripes like frost threads on steel. On the breast, a pure-silver button gleamed—a cold star for the Academy’s honor.

The shoulders sat sharp as blade-edges, the lines flowed like a river. It fit him as if tailored, hugging his thin frame like skin on bone.

“Ha...” The sigh fogged his chest like winter breath. Unease pooled first; then he stared at himself.

Wrinkles mapped his face like dried riverbeds, and two silver-white moustaches stuck up like unruly winter reeds. His small clouded eyes, from any angle, held a sticky sadness, like sap that won’t let go.

He fussed again at the mirror, awkward and hollow, a lone old man walking toward an inevitable dusk.

“Headmaster?” Three soft knocks tapped the door like rain. “Ivley and Count Melinda are here.”

“I’ll be right there.” He left the office, pressing down his hair, drawing anxious breaths like a bird startled from brush.

Enns Ivley and Kito Melinda—names alike in shape, but their shadows split the path the moment they stepped down: one from a carriage, one from a steam automobile.

Enns Ivley, an old noble carrying yesterday’s light, moved slow and grave, leaning on a finely carved cane. His dark-green formal wear held dignity like an evergreen in snow.

By contrast, Kito Melinda was the mold of a new noble. He strode down from the steam car with decisive steps, in step with the age like iron wheels on rails. His deep-purple suit and chosen accessories showed a modern gentleman’s eye, crisp as fresh grapes on a vine.

“Good day!” Enns clasped Bruns’s hand, warm as a hearth. “We came on short notice. Hope we didn't disturb you?”

“An honor.” The words landed like a bow.

Kito watched their handshake, slapped his crisp trouser leg, and asked, flat as slate, “We’re here to audit, right?”

“What’s the rush? You’ll see—” Enns shot Bruns a searching look. When Bruns whispered the name, he passed it on with ceremony, like handing over a seal. “Professor Hedi Melvina’s brilliance.”

“Can’t even keep the name straight... Can we start now?”

At that, Enns signaled Bruns to arrange the class, his hand gentle as a fan closing.

Bruns tensed; the stiffness rose like cold smoke. “Sorry, Professor Melvina’s class is in the afternoon.”

“So we’re early?” Kito’s face tightened like iron. “A civilian professor makes two nobles wait till afternoon?”

“I truly apologize, I—”

Enns cut off the apology, calm as water. “The Magic Academy respects order. Afternoon is fine. Use the time to show Count Melinda around the campus.”

Bruns wore a strained smile and guided Kito to the right, steps careful as on wet stones. Enns strolled left, unhurried as a man in a garden.

All the way, Bruns kept introducing the Academy’s layout and facilities, his voice like a map. Kito never spoke; he watched the plantings instead—hedges, oaks, flowerbeds—as if reading green pages.

“Anything you’re unhappy with?” Bruns tilted his head, wary as a cat. “If I’m too fast, I can slow down.”

“Say whatever. I don’t care about magic.”

“Aren’t you here with Count Ivley to audit?”

“This afternoon?”

Bruns felt the misstep like grit in a gear. “You won’t be disappointed.”

“Heh.”

“Sorry to keep you till the afternoon—”

“If every Spellcaster read faces like you do, life would be easy.” Kito stopped on a gentle path, the slope smooth as silk. “I don’t see what’s good about magic. Explain it.”

“To protect the Empire from foreign threats.”

“Heh.”

“You disagree?”

“Trying to bait me into slandering the Empire?”

Bruns shook his head quickly, like a leaf in wind. “Magic helped us drive off witches, and it can repel invaders.”

“What about internal enemies?”

“Internal?”

“If Spellcasters riot together, what does the Empire do?”

“That... Spellcasters won’t riot...”

“What, do they wear dog collars?”

“You mean restraints? Guns are a restraint.”

“Oh yeah?” Kito drew a cold chunk of metal from his inner pocket—a fearsome revolver, the ivory grip pale as bone, the steel hammer and brass cylinder blinking like a serpent’s eye. “Before you finish your casting words, I can blow out your brains.”

“That’s a restraint on Spellcasters. Thank you for the reminder...” Bruns’s voice thinned like mist.

“But a bullet can be stopped by anything hard; magic turns a man in armor into grit.” Kito slid the gun back with care, like putting a blade in its sheath. “So, what do we do?”

Bruns rubbed his palms, lost, like someone searching a key in dark cloth. “Use another Spellcaster.”

“Heh.”

“Do you have a better way?”

“Research gear that counters Spellcasters. That’s the best route.”

“So you’re not here to audit?”

“I’ll give Ivley face, but he should learn this: magic’s splendor is gone for good.” Kito’s tone was a cold wind. “I’m not scolding him for being an old fossil. He’s enjoyed magic’s dividends.”

“It’s the machine age’s dividend now. You don’t need to stamp magic out.”

“The Empire urgently needs anti-magic means. Picture it: a wide-area spell turns half a town and its innocent residents into dust in an instant. And we dream guns could stop that. Isn’t that a bitter kind of helplessness?”

Bruns understood the aim, heavy as a stone in the gut. Kito had come with hostility, a fist poised to crush the old-noble-funded Academy and push down the Empire’s Spellcasters.

“Of course, I don’t blame you.” Kito’s voice softened like shade. “You’re in that chair thanks to magic.”

“We can advance side by side.”

“Advance how? Give ordinary people without circuits a chance to study? That’s vile. How many youths burn a precious decade chasing magic, only to hear ‘you have no circuit’? Isn’t that a cruel strip of their lives?”

“The circuit test needs some life experience; adulthood is best. The Empire can’t test everyone.”

“That’s why magic will vanish. Today’s youth won’t bet the future on an unseen circuit.”

Bruns drew a silent breath, cool as night.

Kito enjoyed the hush, talking on like a flowing brook. “Once the new nobles finish anti-magic gear, Spellcasters won’t need to exist.”

“You plan a purge?” Bruns’s words trembled like a string.

“How can a small group with magic decide the fate of the Empire’s majority?”

“One last question,” Bruns said, tension coiling like wire. He looked at Kito, a flicker of hesitation. “You hate magic this much—does it have to do with your daughter, Finafina Melinda? I’ve heard she longs to enter a Magic Academy founded by old nobles. For a new noble like you, that’s not ideal, right...”

“Heh. Don’t believe whatever you hear. It’s bad for the head.”

“Just idle talk. Please don’t mind it.”

Kito checked his watch, the dial winking like a coin. “Arrange the class now. I’ve got other business.”

“We still need Count Enns Ivley’s view.”

“I showed him courtesy; he’ll return it.”

Regret pricked Bruns like thorns. Mentioning Finafina had lit Kito’s fuse, but there was no turning back; he could only brace himself and set up the audit to come.

Good thing he’d approved Melvina’s leave, he thought, the thought cool as rain. With her temper, she’d surely clash with Count Melinda.