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Midra Fenin.

Somehow, I ended up sharing a room with him today and tomorrow.

“Please, seniors, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll bring you some tea.”

Midra seated us at the table and quickly headed to the kitchen to prepare the tea.

It was a modest kitchen—barely suitable for simple cooking—but sufficient for boiling tea.

It seemed our other roommate hadn’t returned yet.

It wasn’t too late, so they were probably still training or out on some errand.

“Wangnon, your return means you’ve regained the Vampire Mystery, right?”

As I followed Midra’s retreating back with my eyes, Card spoke up.

Card was currently working with Solvas to track down those misusing the Vampire Mystery.

So when he asked, I nodded in affirmation.

“Yes, he sealed herself inside the Mystery in a last act of desperation. Xenia and Sharin are working to undo it.”

“That’s good to hear.”

The Vampire Mystery originally belonged to the royal family of Panisys.

And with the civil war there still ongoing, recovering the Mystery—taken amidst the chaos—might now empower Prince Maron.

“You don’t need to worry too much about Panisys.”

Card must’ve noticed my concern and smiled slyly.

“Both Lord Solvas and Prince Maron are making preparations.”

So they were finally readying to reclaim Panisys.

Of course—it’s their homeland.

All I can do is hope they succeed.

“But more importantly, you’ve got things to discuss with that junior of ours, right?”

Card stood up, pushing his chair back.

“Have a good chat. I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Thanks.”

Grateful for his consideration, I expressed my thanks, but Card just waved it off and disappeared into the room.

Just then, Midra returned with the tea and tilted his head.

“Did Senior Card head in already?”

“Yeah. He gave us the space to talk.”

“Oof, how embarrassing~”

Midra placed a cup of tea before me.

I stared at it for a moment, not drinking it, then turned to face him.

“Midra, you knew Xenia would go berserk due to the prohibition.”

Midra, who had been casually sipping his own tea, glanced at me.

And then, as always, he wore that ever-flippant smile.

“Yes.”

He didn’t hide it.

“What were you planning to do if something went wrong with Xenia?”

Midra seemed to have some connection to Zerion.

And if he did, there was no way he’d just sit back and let Zerion’s reincarnation, Xenia, spiral out of control.

“Well, if that happened, then that would’ve been the end of it. If it were Zerion, she would’ve easily overcome such a wall.”

But his reply was unexpectedly cold.

It was as if he was saying Xenia couldn’t possibly measure up to Zerion.

Just what exactly was the relationship between Midra and Zerion?

I didn’t know, but there was something unsettling about it.

“And if you really think about it, the reason for the prohibition lies with you, doesn’t it?”

Midra smirked as he looked at me.

He wasn’t wrong—Xenia’s current state was my fault.

But that was between me and Xenia.

There was no way Midra should have known such details.

I had long suspected he knew something about me.

From the way things had played out, it was clear Midra always acted with some level of foresight.

Yet he consistently avoided direct involvement.

So I decided to ask him.

“Midra, I’ve forgotten my original name.”

Midra seemed to know something about my true identity too.

He never treated me as Vikamon, but as someone else entirely—proof of his awareness.

Perhaps even my possession was orchestrated by someone.

And if Midra was part of that orchestration, then it was worth testing him with this question.

It would help gauge his intentions.

Our eyes met.

He stared at me for a moment before slowly tapping his teacup with a finger.

He looked deep in thought.

“I see.”

And after a while, he finally spoke.

“Well then, senior, how about this?”

Midra offered a different idea.

“Perhaps you didn’t forget your name. Maybe you never had one to begin with.”

“...What?”

The unexpected reply left me stunned.

But Midra treated it as a casual notion and continued.

“A name is a unique trait possessed only by the individual. When something nameless is given a name, it gains power—it becomes something with great strength.”

He traced the surface of the table with his finger as he spoke.

“But on the flip side, if a name disappears, the power vanishes with it.”

“You lose your strength just because your name disappears?”

“More accurately, it’s the process of no longer knowing who you are. There’s a flaw in how you define yourself. That’s how an individual is erased from this world.”

Midra’s finger moved past the table and into the air.

As if vanishing from the earth into the void.

“Of course, just saying you don’t have a name doesn’t erase it. There must be some sort of law that governs it.”

Midra pointed toward the sky.

“A name is a personal power recorded in the heavens. So if you want to erase a name, you have to deceive the laws of the heavens.”

The laws of the heavens.

As soon as I heard those words, my eyes widened.

“...Celestial Magic.”

The magic Zerion used—so powerful it could deceive even divine law.

“You’re saying my possession was caused by Celestial Magic?”

Midra only smiled in response.

That gesture alone made it clear he had no more to say.

So my possession happened due to Celestial Magic.

Someone had tricked the heavens themselves to place me in this body.

But why?

Who was I originally?

Lately, I’d been feeling a strange sense of dissonance.

My memories of the day I stood in the ring were getting blurrier.

I was sure I had a name—but now, I couldn’t remember it at all.

I was confused.

Countless theories spun in my mind before vanishing.

Even when I looked at Midra, it was clear he wouldn’t provide any answers.

His cryptic expression only dragged me deeper into uncertainty.

At the same time, a faint, unsettling thought surfaced.

What if—just what if—

‘I never belonged to this world to begin with?’

If that’s the case, then what am I?

Why am I here, knowing the future?

The thought sent chills down my spine, and it felt like everything about my past self was suddenly being denied.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

Fortunately, thanks to the bandages of the veil, I had become skilled at controlling my emotions.

I took a light breath and stared at Midra.

Amid the horrifying sensation of my very existence being denied,

My lips opened slightly, full of swirling speculation, then closed again.

“Senior, you don’t always need to seek answers in this world.”

Then Midra's voice came again.

“Even if you don't want them, answers will eventually come to you. Because that’s the kind of world this is.”

The answers are coming.

Those words seemed to point toward the end.

The end of the scenario.

That’s where the answers lie.

That’s what Midra said.

“…Yeah.”

I suppressed the confusion inside me.

No matter what I’ve become, the goal I set at the beginning hasn’t changed.

I have only one goal.

To lead this world to a happy ending.

All the answers lie at the end of that path.

“May I ask you one thing?”

Midra suddenly made a request.

He had already answered many of my questions today.

There was no reason not to respond, so I nodded.

“…Are you happy right now, Senior?”

It was an out-of-the-blue question.

Defining happiness isn’t an easy thing.

If you asked me whether I was happy right now…

“I am.”

Many of those I cherish are moving toward new paths of their own.

I don’t know how those paths will end, but the faces of those walking them are bright.

And that is my happiness and my wish.

“But it's still a long way off.”

There are many kinds of happiness I haven’t yet reached.

One of them is Iris.

She's suffering, turned into a puppet by Celestial Grace.

To save her, I will go to the Imperial Palace.

Midra looked at me for a while, then stood up from his seat.

“That’s enough. That’s all I needed to tell you. The answer only has meaning if you find it yourself.”

I still didn’t fully understand what kind of person Midra was.

But one thing was certain: he was sincerely rooting for my life.

“Well then, it’s only for a couple of days, but please feel at home in my room.”

He left, returning to his usual playful self.

My eyes turned to the window.

The sun was beginning to slowly set.

It was a quiet day—like the calm before the storm.

* * *

That night, I couldn’t fall asleep easily.

I don’t really know why.

I vaguely thought it was because of the unsettling emotions stirred up by Midra’s words.

Or maybe it was the snoring from the guy sleeping next to me.

Or perhaps it was just because I was in a different bed.

Thanks to that, I left the dormitory for a bit, unable to sleep.

Fortunately, I had gotten prior permission from the maids.

It seems the things I’ve done so far helped build a certain level of trust.

As I walked outside, I could see the night sky.

No matter what I did here, the stars always shone brightly above.

“Prince Sweet Potato.”

At that moment, a familiar voice called out.

I already heard the footsteps from behind, so I wasn’t too surprised.

“Seron.”

When I called her name, she appeared—wearing only a light top over her pajamas.

It was the time between spring and summer.

Still a bit chilly.

Her thin clothing didn’t leave much to the imagination.

Ever since I became aware of love, my strengthened libido had been a troublesome issue.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?”

“You’re one to talk. Why are you up at this hour?”

“I was on my way back from the bathroom when I saw you leave, so I followed you.”

Seron looked up at me as she spoke.

I could see concern in her eyes.

And beneath that concern, I could feel her affection.

I gazed at her silently, my eyes wandering momentarily.

For some reason, it wasn’t easy to meet her eyes directly.

To be precise, facing her brought up a familiar sense of guilt again.

Seron once told me her first love was someone else.

That man wasn’t me—it was originally Vikamon.

Her love stems from that first love.

And I still hadn’t told her this truth.

But today, I told Xenia and Sharin the truth.

Xenia, in her own way, accepted it and set her own goal.

Sharin didn’t care, as she wasn’t particularly connected to Vikamon.

But Seron…

What about Seron?

My lips didn’t move right away.

My confused heart was spinning every which way.

“Prince Sweet Potato?”

Seron called me softly.

The concern and affection in her voice hit me like a fatal blow.

I had felt this emotion before.

When Seron looked not at me, but at Vikamon, I felt like my very existence had been denied.

Back then, I barely suppressed it thanks to Isabel, choosing to avoid it.

But problems left unsolved only return like a boomerang.

In the moonlight, Seron was looking at me with longing.

But I couldn’t look at her, standing in the moon’s shadow.

“Seron, I have something to tell you.”

But even so, my mouth moved.

Seron had loved me.

She was the first to ignite the flame of anger within me, and taught me the value of emotion.

I couldn’t lie to someone like that anymore.

And not just to her.

I needed to tell the truth to everyone around me.

To Nikita, to Isabel, and even to Hania and Iris.

Xenia and Sharin were only the beginning.

Now I understood why I hadn’t spoken with the others much today.

Subconsciously, I’d been avoiding this reality.

Seron had sensed that—and followed me into the night.

“I have something to say.”

I didn’t know what kind of expression she would make when she heard the truth.

But as she looked at my face now, Seron suddenly ran forward.

And then she embraced me tightly—more tightly than ever.

“It’s okay.”

Her warmth reached me.

Even though I held the flames of ash, Seron’s warmth was incredibly gentle.

It wasn’t because of the summer weather.

“If it’s something Prince Sweet Potato says, then I’m okay with it all.”

Her desperate love was this warm.

That’s why I was finally able to say something true.

“I… am not Vikamon Niflheim.”

That secret.

The story I had to hide—at last, I let it out.