“Alright—done!”

Before the cold surgical table, Teacher Meladomir’s small hands clapped together in delight, marking the initial completion of the alchemy core implanted into Muen Campbell.

Not only the core—three thousand six hundred and twenty-one mana circuits had been inscribed into his body. Insignificant compared to linking with the entire Eternal Clock, yes—but it was still the first real step toward her long-cherished goal.

“Huh? Didn’t I say we’re done? Why are you still lying there?”

Meladomir leaned down, puzzled at how Muen, freed from restraints, still lay sprawled like a dead salted fish.

Lying there, refusing to get up...

Her small hand tapped lightly as she realized:

“Don’t tell me my technique was so comfortable you fell asleep?”

“Comfortable? Teacher Meladomir, doesn’t your conscience hurt saying that?”

Muen finally turned his head. His handsome face, after enduring her expert handiwork, was now streaked with tears.

“Pain. It was too painful. Teacher Meladomir, do you have any idea how much it hurt?”

At first, it hadn’t been so bad—the razor-thin surgical blades grazing his skin were nothing more than an itch compared to the things he went through each night in the Black Book.

The real agony came when she began building the alchemy core—when that golden solution, prepared with ancient dragon’s heart blood, was poured into his body. That wasn’t a solution—it was molten iron.

Molten iron that burned inch by inch through his flesh and blood, searing down to the bone.

He could endure pain, yes—short bursts of it—but this “pleasure” that made you want to ascend to heaven had lasted an entire day.

One. Whole. Day.

Twenty-four hours.

One thousand four hundred and forty-four minutes.

Do you have any idea how I survived that?

Do you know how many times I blacked out from the pain?

And you still think I was comfortable? You don’t care about me at all!

And halfway through you even wandered off to do something else—when you came back you were chewing on half a chicken leg. I saw it!

“You can’t handle a bit of pain? That’s weak, kid.”

Meladomir pouted, the red of her eyes flashing with faint disdain.

“When I was your age, I wouldn’t have made a peep over something like this.”

“...Really?”

“Of course.”

“Then why won’t you look me in the eye, Teacher?” Muen fixed her with a stare.

Don’t say that with the face of someone who’d cry for hours after taking a punch.

“Ahem. Anyway, that’s not important. How does your body feel? Any discomfort?” She coughed lightly, changing the subject.

“Tch...”

Clicking his tongue, Muen flexed experimentally.

“No real discomfort. Just... my back still feels hot.”

“That’s normal. Here—see the result of your twenty-four-hour endurance.”

Producing a mirror from who-knows-where, Meladomir motioned for him to turn around.

Reflected there was the fruit of his day-long suffering—an intricate, solemn design of staggering precision. Thousands of golden lines radiated outward from a sunrise-like alchemy core, layering over his torso. The lines pulsed in rhythm with his breath, exuding a mysterious, profound beauty. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

“This is just the first inscription—enough to give you an initial link to the Eternal Clock. When you’ve grown stronger, I’ll expand on this base, adding at least 106,000 mana circuits and seventeen more alchemy cores. Only then will the second stage be complete.”

“One hundred and six thousand...”

Muen’s mouth twitched. “You think there’s enough room on my back for that?”

“Oh? Who told you the next inscriptions would go on your back?”

Her fine brows arched as her gaze swept over him—lingering on a certain spot for a moment. The corners of her mouth curled in a meaningful smile.

“You’ve got plenty of space elsewhere.”

“Huh?”

He blinked, then followed her gaze downward. His forehead twitched and he clutched his abdomen in protest.

“Teacher, there are some places you can’t put weird patterns!”

“Relax, relax. I won’t go painting a cute little pink heart you can never wash off.” Meladomir, the eternally-pretending loli, beamed with faux innocence.

“Now I trust you even less!”

“Next time I’ll be gentle.”

“That’s the kind of ‘gentle’ I don’t need!”

...

After a drawn-out battle for his dignity, Muen finally extracted a promise she wouldn’t do anything outrageous. He lingered in front of the mirror, admiring himself for a while.

Somehow... those golden lines against his now more defined back looked—well—pretty damn cool.

Maybe, just maybe, this back alone will win the hearts of countless young ladies. Striking a bodybuilder’s pose, he let himself drift into the fantasy.

A ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) flawless demon’s back, complete with golden LED glow—who could refuse?

“I’d say it’s far more likely to attract male perverts.”

Her voice skewered his daydream. Her tone shifted slightly more serious.

“Enough chatter. Time to test the effect.”

“The effect?”

“You’ve linked to the Eternal Clock, however slightly. You should be able to use a sliver of its authority now. Insignificant, yes—but for you right now, it should be a huge boost.”

Pulling out her little pink watering can, she suddenly hurled it at him before he could assume she meant to water the flower garden again.

“Infuse the alchemy core with mana,” she ordered.

“Yes.”

Muen instantly channeled his mana into the core at his back.

Though an artificial construct carved into him, the mana circuits now felt utterly integrated with his body—an extension of his own meridians. Mana flowed through them as naturally as through his veins.

In an instant, the core trembled faintly, as if resonating with something.

Dong.

For that moment, Muen thought he heard the midnight chime of a great clock tower.

The world fell silent—not mute, but as if every sound had been stretched and distorted, leaving only his heartbeat and breath.

“This...”

His eyes widened. The watering can Meladomir had thrown was suspended in the air.

No—not suspended—it was moving very slowly, as though someone had pressed a slow-motion button.

He could see water droplets leaping from its spout, each one opening into a crystal-clear silver flower in midair, long enough to steal his breath.

Through the glistening droplets, he saw Meladomir still frozen in the throwing pose, her slightly baby-fat cheeks impossibly cute in this still frame.

Time-stop?

Blond hair?

Loli?

Muen suddenly felt as if certain familiar images from somewhere had come to life before his eyes—every possible trope box checked.