The Ivory Tower. For two millennia, they were the mages who had guided the course of human development. While the rise of the ’Necromancer and Priest Era’ certainly contributed to the decline of their absolute power on the continent, a single, decisive event had preceded it.

It began on the highest floor of the Ivory Tower, where a ’Dungeon Gate’ had opened.

Appearing roughly 300 years ago, it was a dungeon with a temporal anomaly that distorted time itself. It absorbed the various magics that permeated the tower, combining them and growing into one of the worst disasters in human history.

"From an outsider’s perspective, it feels like the inevitable simply happened," the HQ official explained. "After all, the top floor of the Ivory Tower was where they were researching ’time magic’."

Simon’s eyes widened as he listened. "Time?"

"Yes. The Ivory Tower ruled humanity and led its progress for two thousand years. Their desire to conquer even time itself was, in a way, perfectly natural." The official pushed his glasses up his nose. "They likely wanted to reclaim lost magical knowledge from the past and secure their dominance over the future forever. It was arrogance."

He assessed the dungeon gate not as a natural disaster, but a man-made one. He believed their excessive attempts to control time had summoned a dungeon intrinsically linked to it. In the end, the Tower Master of that era, along with thousands of his disciples, perished before they barely managed to seal the dungeon.

With their headquarters in ruins, the Ivory Tower abandoned the old structure and relocated to a new one, which stands as their main base today. The old tower, left behind, became a sealed dungeon.

"People call it the ’Tower of Time’," the official continued in a low voice, his hands clasped together. "However, as the centuries have passed, the seal has weakened, and the power of time has begun to leak out. As a result, the tower is now a treasure trove, spilling forth the mountain of knowledge accumulated over two millennia, along with enchanting and mysterious phenomena. Once every five years, the Ivory Tower holds a festival to share these ’mysteries’ with outsiders."

He held up a hand for emphasis. "That very festival is the ’Festival of Time’, and it is where you are going."

Simon’s eyes lit up. "That sounds... fascinating."

He had been tense, expecting a grueling dispatch, but this sounded like an incredibly interesting place. A location where the continent’s history was bound up in time itself—he desperately wanted to see it. Merida seemed to share his sentiment; her eyes were a little more awake as she scanned the documents.

"What will we be doing there?" she asked, her first question of the meeting.

"The inside of the tower may be a place of mystery, but a dungeon is still a dungeon. There will be monsters," the official replied. "Your mission will consist of eliminating monsters, clearing sections of the tower, and excavating buried knowledge. The Ivory Tower will provide you with the specific details."

It didn’t sound bad at all. They weren’t going to the Ivory Tower’s main headquarters but to the Tower of Time to enjoy a festival while working. It would surely be more demanding than being a regular guest, but it was also a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"As long as you remain cautious of any unexpected variables, I believe the mission will go smoothly." With that, the official produced two small necklace artifacts from his bag and held them out.

"What are these?"

"Artifacts personally crafted by Lady Nephthys."

Simon and Merida each took one.

"She said they would protect you in the Tower of Time, should any unforeseen circumstances arise."

Simon examined the artifact. A tiny clock hung from the end of the chain. It seemed different from the artifact that had turned back time during the Saintess incident. The official offered no further explanation, only saying that they would understand its purpose in time and should simply keep it with them.

"For now, you will be visiting the Festival of Time as invited guests. Here are the details sent by the Ivory Tower. It includes the dress code, rules, and so on."

’A dress code?’ This festival was apparently a very serious affair.

"Well, that concludes my briefing. I wish you good luck."

---

After bidding the official farewell, Simon and Merida stepped out of the reception room. Night had fallen, blanketing the campus in darkness. They walked side by side down the moonlit corridor.

Only the soft scuff of their footsteps broke the silence. Feeling the awkwardness mount, Simon glanced over at Merida. The drowsiness she had been fighting off seemed to have finally overwhelmed her; she was dozing off even as she walked.

"Merida, are you okay?"

She stopped. Still half-asleep, she opened a subspace, fumbled for a blanket, and spread it out on the corridor floor. Then, without a second thought, she dove onto it and lay down.

"Wait! You can’t sleep here!" A startled Simon rushed over and tried to shake her awake.

Her hand shot up, and the tip of her finger touched his forehead.

Simon staggered, his body collapsing on top of her.

’S-Sleep?’

An unbearable wave of drowsiness crashed over his mind.

’I almost lost consciousness in an instant...!’

He had no idea how many stacks of the curse she had applied at once, but it was so potent that even he struggled to resist. He was barely holding on, mustering every ounce of his superhuman mental fortitude, when her eyes snapped open.

"Hm." Lying beneath him, Merida’s eyes were now clear and sharp. "I had high hopes, since you’re the man my brother Phantastus chose," she said, her face an emotionless mask. "You’re nothing special."

"M-Merida!"

She pressed her finger to his forehead again. More stacks of the Sleep curse piled on, and this time, Simon couldn’t fight it. He slumped forward, his strength giving out.

"You... ugh! What is this...!"

"A test," she whispered, her voice a languid, hypnotic lullaby. "To see if you’re truly worthy of receiving the Ikel family’s Sleep."

"This Sleep curse...! Release...!"

As Simon ground his teeth, Merida simply blinked.

"Is it so bad? It’s only meant to make you feel pleasantly drowsy."

"No, that’s... not the problem...!"

Just then, the sound of raucous laughter echoed from the staircase below.

"So that night, he totally told Rebecca—!"

"No way! Did they actually kiss?"

"I saw it with my own eyes! He wrapped his arm right around her waist and..."

The two girls, completely absorbed in their gossip, froze mid-step.

A blanket lay in a rumpled heap on the floor. A girl was sprawled upon it, blinking helplessly. On top of her, a boy was flailing. The compromising position was so startling that the girls’ faces flushed crimson, as though they had stumbled upon something utterly scandalous.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!"

"A-At school! At school! At school! AT SCHOOL!!!"

It was a scene straight out of a romantic novel. Having witnessed the scandalous sight, their minds reeled.

"Wait a minute!" Simon yelled, his face beet red. "This is—!"

"Sorry to interruuuuuupt!"

They scrambled back down the stairs. ’This is a disaster,’ Simon thought, a headache blooming behind his eyes. He groaned.

"Merida! What do you think you’re doing?"

Whether she failed to grasp the gravity of the situation or simply didn’t care, Merida only tilted her head. At this point, Simon’s patience was wearing thin. He wasn’t about to let this go.

This time, it was Merida’s eyelids that trembled. She squeezed them shut with all her might.

"How dare you... ’Hmph’—challenge me with that technique?"

"You... started... it..."

"I’m not... going easy... on you..."

At the bottom of the stairs, the two students who had fled were now hiding, covering their mouths and shivering. ’Wh-What kind of technique are they competing with?’

’What did he say she started?’

Unable to handle the scandalous implications of the conversation, they gave up on eavesdropping and fled, their faces burning.

"Hah... Hah..." Meanwhile, Simon and Merida had each cast four layers of the ’Sleep’ curse, their index fingers aimed squarely at each other’s foreheads.

"Feeling... sleepy?" Simon managed a weak smile, his pupils hazy. "You can... just... give in..."

"That’s... my... line," Merida retorted, her eyelids fluttering.

Simon was forcing himself to stay awake by flooding his body with Jet-Black, holding himself in a state of heightened awareness. Merida appeared to be doing the same, as dark energy swirled around her. From a distance, the sight of a young man and woman tangled on a blanket, both shrouded in pure Jet-Black, was utterly bizarre.

After a tense standoff, they both came to the same conclusion: at this rate, they were both going to pass out right here.

"Let’s release it on the count of three," Simon proposed.

"...Fine."

"One... two... three."

Neither moved.

"Why didn’t... you release it?"

"You... first."

Both of them were on the verge of losing consciousness. Finally, Simon, the slightly more rational of the two, sighed.

"Alright... I’ll go first... so you do it too."

Merida, who looked to have reached her absolute limit, bit her lip and nodded, her eyelids half-closed. With great effort, Simon lifted his numb arms and clapped his hands together.

The sharp sound echoed through the hall, and in that instant, Merida’s eyes flew open.

"There." She sprang from the floor, and in a flash, their positions were reversed. Now Simon was the one lying defenseless as she loomed over him. "I win."

She pressed her fingertip to his forehead like the barrel of a gun.

"That’s not what we agreed—" Simon’s words stopped short. "Wait, are you— get off! Stop climbing on top of me!" His face went red. "I’m serious, stop!"

With a cryptic look, she lifted the finger aimed at his forehead. And then...

With a sharp flick, the drowsiness vanished as if it had never been there.

"We’ll stop here," Merida announced, lowering her hand.

Simon, who had been wringing every last drop of Jet-Black from his core, finally went limp with relief.

’Ahem. Ahem.’

A cough from the side made Simon turn his head. A staff member from the main office, documents in hand, was watching the entire scene with an unnervingly amused smile.

’...Ugh, I’m so screwed.’

---

Fortunately, the staff member didn’t make a scene. He calmly mediated their squabble and sent them back to their dorms.

’Please, just don’t let any weird rumors spread around the school,’ Simon prayed as he walked. He then noticed a business card sticking out of his shirt pocket. The staff member must have slipped it in. On the back, a message was written.

[This may be an inconvenience, but please return to the reception room. Alone, of course.]

He’d had a feeling things were going too smoothly. He was about to get a lecture. In the worst-case scenario, they might even report this to the professors. Though he hadn’t actually done anything wrong, Simon felt a pang of guilt as he trudged back to the reception room.

"You’ve returned. Please, have a seat," the staff member said, sitting in the exact same posture as before.

Simon quickly sat down.

"Please, let me explain! What happened was—!"

"Oh, to be young." The man’s lips curled into a smile. "Everyone is like that at that age. I was, too. It reminds me of my secret rendezvous with ’the girl from the Venomology Department.’ Our story began when she, my opponent in a duel evaluation, slipped a laxative into my meal..."

"I’m not interested!" Simon shook his head vehemently, crossing his arms in a firm ’X’.

The staff member, who had been about to launch into a story from his school days, leaned back with a look of disappointment.

"Then let’s get to the point." He waved a hand, and the room was suddenly enveloped in a pitch-black membrane. Layers of soundproofing and barrier magic circles materialized, sealing them in. "I’ve taken some security precautions. From this point on, this is top secret."

The atmosphere shifted. The man opened a subspace, pulled a black envelope from his briefcase, and handed it to Simon.

"You must not disclose this to your partner, Merida, either." This was a mission for Simon alone. "The Ivory Tower has invited two students to their quinquennial ’Festival of Time’ under the guise of a dispatch mission. Kizen has accepted. You two will carry out your duties in the Tower of Time. That is the official story."

Listening intently, Simon pulled a stiff sheet of white paper from the black envelope, his expression tense.

"What follows is a secret mission from headquarters, entrusted solely to you, the Student Council President."