"I want you to be a Gatekeeper!"

To say Art was shocked—then yes, he was. To say he was disappointed? No, he wasn't. As a matter of fact, this was something he very much wanted.

"Now, setting up the duel shouldn't be difficult."

Thinking so, his eyes fell on Principal Cassie, who eagerly awaited his reply.

"So, what do you say?"

"Yes, I accept," he answered.

"That's weird..."

Not taking kindly to his words, Principal Cassie held her chin.

"...I thought your kind didn't like attention."

"Why wouldn't I like it? And what do you mean by my kind?"

"I mean, I expected you to be the low-key type of guy—you know, hiding your true power and stuff."

"Headmistress, I think you've been reading too many web novels." Art kept his words as polite as possible.

Of course, not being low-key and boasting of his strength was part of his plan. It would temporarily draw the villains' attention from his students to him, allowing them to grow within his shadow.

"Yes, I believe you're right. I've been reading a little too much; I've grown somewhat delusional."

With a soft smirk, she got off the table and made her way to the chair.

"Hey, can't judge me, though. A centuries-old beauty can't live without much entertainment."

Now that he remembered, the headmistress was pretty old. Her exact age wasn't stated, even in most of the memories he had regained, and neither did her character chart display it. For her age, it just showed question marks, as if even the character herself didn't know.

"Anyway, you, Levi, Cerci, and Grim will be this year's Gatekeepers."

"I see."

"Originally, it should've been Villier, but that boy still hasn't returned from the Association, so I handed his spot to you."

"..."

"Why the long face?"

Noticing Art's shift in expression, she couldn't help but ask.

"About Professor Villier..."

"Don't worry, he's fine. It's just a week-long workshop; he'll be back soon."

"Okay!" Art nodded, earning a smile from Cassie.

"For how he treats you, you sure care about him," she teased.

"..."

Art didn't respond. He was so tired of everyone thinking he cared about Villier.

He didn't. He just didn't want him to become a villain because if he did, Art would have to dirty his hands and get rid of him. This had more to do with his morality than any feelings.

"Also, I saw your fight with student Cheshire. Please try to repeat a similar scenario in the rank games."

"You want me to bully the students?" Art gasped.

"Precisely! Mess with them a bit—but don't break them too hard."

She encouraged him with a thumbs-up.

"Will my pay increase?"

"Oh... that depends on your performance," she said, smirking evilly.

"Well, boss lady, you've got yourself an Oscar-worthy actor right here."

Cassie, curious about what an "Oscar-worthy" was, nodded in confusion at his words. But since he was smiling confidently, she judged it wasn't particularly bad.

"That's about it. You may leave—but you can also stay if you have any complaints."

"None that I can think of," Art shrugged.

"Well then, see you later, Mr. Art!"

"You too, Headmistress."

Paying his final show of respect, he turned around and left the office, leaving Cassie—who was observing the strand of blonde hair between her fingers—to sigh.

"Raviel should be able to get enough information from this."

Storing the pieces of hair into a tiny rubber packet, she folded it into her pocket and sighed once more.

What she had done wasn't just a matter of mistrust—it was something more.

Art was undoubtedly good in her eyes, but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.

The possibility of him being a Unique Skill holder, his golden aura, and the potential to become a Saint...

It wouldn't be wrong to say he would become a powerhouse in the future. But exactly because of that, she had to uncover his origin.

Was he truly Art Lighter, or was there more at play?

She lacked the necessary skills to answer, but that didn't mean she didn't have others who could.

"I'm sorry, kid."

Feeling a bit guilty for what she was about to do, she closed her eyes in shame.

---

**Mages Association**

Within the center of the towering metropolis, Aria—the capital of the Sirius Empire—stood a golden clock tower of unimaginable heights.

The tower, its glistening surface reflecting on the neighboring skyscrapers, gleamed with worth, authority, and, most of all, divine accomplishment.

Villier Nightingale was a man who could be defined by all this. Dubbed a prodigy by many—not just in mana control but in his mastery over four types of magic—he was undoubtedly a man capable of stepping into the tower. And he had not just stepped there but had even worked there...

That was, until he began his career as a teacher in a certain academy.

Now, after a week-long visit to the tower, his time had come to leave.

"Those fools still refuse to learn."

Descending the choir of stairs under the resistance of the warm breeze that whipped his cape around, his expression—full of disgust—grew evident as he glanced back at the Mages Association (or the "Tower," as they liked to call it).

He hadn't been called back for a promotion or a new accomplishment but rather to partake in a fool's game that would undoubtedly be the end of many.

With the increasing rate of Rifts across the world, the two major Associations had collaborated for an expedition into the Unnamed Realm.

It sounded suicidal—after all, that was where all those cryptic monsters came from—and it *was*. But those fools, too curious about what was on the other side, had disguised it as a cause for the world.

"I hate brats, but at least they aren't as insufferable as those old fools."

Skipping a step and using wind magic to cushion his misstep, he landed on the pedestrian streets with a soft *puff*, both hands nested in his pockets.

Approaching the car the Association had given him during his stay, the chauffeur responsible for driving him around stepped aside, pulling the back door open to let him in.

Glancing at him, Villier sighed and stepped into the car, retracting his hands from his pockets and crossing them in front of his chest.

The chauffeur, gently closing the door, briskly circled around the vehicle, soon arriving at the front seat to start its engine.

"What do you want?"

For a moment, the chauffeur's sturdy back grew tense, but he said nothing, pushing the car's rearview mirror down to observe Villier—whose undying smirk denoted confidence and a lack of panic.

"Mr. Villier, I have a proposal for you!"

Awaiting Villier's response, he pushed his hat up to reveal blazing red hair and fierce crimson eyes, the ends of his sharpened fangs gleaming with fierce hunger.

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