Whitechapel District.

Muen walked down the empty streets, taking in the slightly familiar new-style buildings on both sides of the road, and couldn’t help feeling a faint wave of emotion.

This... was actually the place where he and Senior had gone on their last date.

Whether it was the original Muen or the current him, neither had come to the Lower City very often. So before setting foot on this street, he hadn’t realized the connection.

'Senior once said she had lived here...'

Would she hide somewhere she was familiar with?

Whether intentional or not...

If it was unintentional...

A faint unease stirred in his chest.

But instead of slowing him down, it made his steps quicken.

The renovated commercial buildings on either side gradually fell behind. He arrived at a place they hadn’t reached during that last date.

At the street’s end, the row of new buildings abruptly stopped, like a fault line. Beyond it stretched dilapidated houses and a wide, open lot, jarringly extending into the distance.

“Lokada Academy...”

His gaze swept over the broken wooden sign hanging on the fence.

According to the intel, this had once been a school for the poor. But to make way for an expanded commercial street, it had been shut down despite protests from many lower-class residents.

Unfortunately, the street project had mysteriously run out of funds before it reached the school grounds.

So the academy had been left abandoned ever since, surrounded by unfinished shells of buildings meant to match the new street. In this densely packed Lower City, this patch of empty, decaying structures had somehow formed a bizarre, uninhabited zone.

Muen’s eyes swept across the schoolyard and the shadowy, oppressive buildings beyond. He reached for the rusted padlock on the front gate, fingers ready to pick it open.

“Damn it, I’m making a habit of this.”

Even now, he was about to start lockpicking—it was becoming some sort of strange occupational disease.

Slapping his own restless hand away, he adjusted his top hat and glanced around.

When he was sure no one was watching, he leapt lightly over the fence into the academy grounds.

Past the overgrown grass lay, as in most schools, a small grove of deliberately planted trees. Drawing Elizabeth, he quietly cleared the brambles and undergrowth before him, cutting a path without a sound.

Beyond the grove, the looming buildings crouched in the darkness like the silhouettes of demons.

The door was unlocked.

His gaze flicked to the entrance. His figure blurred and slipped inside.

The silent hallway reeked of dust; cobwebs draped the corners of the ceiling. A startled rat darted across a windowsill into shadow.

It looked like no one had set foot here for a very long time.

Touching Elizabeth lightly, Muen sent an invisible arc along his outline, sealing away all traces of his presence.

Step by step, he moved along the corridor, peering through classroom windows.

First floor.

Empty.

Second floor.

Empty.

Third floor.

Empty.

Up to... the sixth floor.

From here, the view was much better.

In the Lower City, there were few buildings taller than six stories, so from these windows, most of the district lay in sight.

Even the bright glow from the distant Upper City spilled in, lending this floor a faint light.

Still, it was as hushed as a haunted place.

Carefully, still on guard, he searched classroom by classroom.

One.

Two.

Three.

Until the very last.

Still nothing.

Not a person in sight—once the night-active rats were driven off, the entire building was as silent as a vacuum in space.

“So it really isn’t that easy to find her?”

A flicker of disappointment crossed his eyes.

This academy wasn’t large. If she wasn’t here, it would be even harder to find somewhere else for one person to hide.

“Not here... or is the intel just wrong?”

Either way, he had to keep going.

He turned to retrace his steps—

—when a clear chill washed over him. In the corner of his eye, a shadow flickered past.

'Who?!'

He whipped around—

—but saw no one.

Only an empty classroom where the curtains stirred in the night breeze, swaying like ghostly shapes.

The chill? Probably just the wind.

Sweeping the room again, confirming there was no trace of life, he turned back.

Was he wound too tight?

“Better move on—can’t waste too much time here. There’s still plenty to check.”

He started to step away—

—but as his gaze slid over the classroom one last time, an inexplicable sense of familiarity jolted through him. A flash of insight lit his mind. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

The curtains?

He spun back.

This time he wasn’t looking for someone—he took in the entire room’s layout.

It was much larger than the others, but the back half was piled high with junk, making it look roughly the same size as a normal classroom at first glance.

The front half was completely cleared, save for a single lone desk by the window. The pale blue curtains stirred gently in the breeze. Everything looked so familiar.

The details differed, but the arrangement was unmistakably like... the Ancient Potions Club room.

His heartbeat quickened. Forgetting the noise the rusty door might make, he pushed it open and strode straight to that lone desk.

If his guess was right, following Senior’s old habits, there should be some trace left on it.

But up close, disappointment struck.

The first touch of his hand found it icy cold.

No sign of recent warmth.

“Did I guess wrong? Is the layout just a coincidence?”

Staring at the desk, he pressed his palms together and muttered under his breath,

“I’m not a pervert, I’m not a pervert—just checking, that’s all!”

Making sure the disclaimer wouldn’t corrupt any innocent ears, he slowly lowered his cheek onto the desk surface.

Don’t get the wrong idea—he was really just checking.

But... it was still cold.

Sniffing hard, he caught no special scent.

It really was just an ordinary desk left here.

Yet he didn’t give up. Eyes snapping open, his expression turned resolute. He muttered seriously,

“Maybe... I should lick it?”

“...”

The words had barely left his mouth—

—when killing intent flared in the silent classroom.

A terrifying chill surged up his back.

From the shadowed blind spot above the doorway, something long and thin lashed out, like a coiled serpent striking at his back.

The air screamed as it split.

Muen, as if already wary, twisted aside just in time.

It still grazed his shoulder; the specially tailored suit held, but the sting burned hot.

His gaze shifted toward it.

Moonlight revealed the attacker’s true form—

—a whip.

One he’d seen before.

Joy had no time to surface—

—the whip suddenly snapped back!

Its needle-like tip, wreathed in death’s shadow, darted for his face.

It adjusted mid-flight, tracking him like it had a mind of its own.

Muen retreated.

Again.

And again.

Until he could retreat no more.

In that instant, his fingers curled into claws—

—basic Thunderclap!

The shockwave burst out.

The whip’s tip was knocked aside.

Seizing the opening, he Shadow-Stepped to gain distance—

—but hadn’t even steadied his footing when—

—urgent, lilting chanting filled the air.

Ancient words, crammed into a single breath, sped like a recording at ten times speed—almost comical.

Almost.

Behind the absurdity was a powerful spell being forced into shape.

Of course.

As death warnings rang in his skull, a cold, melodious voice spoke:

“Explosion!”

Air compressed in an instant.

From the corner, a figure in a black robe was already closing in, light and heat blooming at her fingertips.

There was probably only one person in the world who’d stick an explosion spell right against someone’s head—but he had no time to marvel. Only facing it himself did he realize the crushing pressure the “macho high priest” must have felt.

No hesitation.

Mana surged, the alchemic core ignited.

Heat licked his back—

—tenfold Time Slow!

Like a film dropped into slow motion, everything in view moved at leisure.

He could see her—even shrouded in the robe, her graceful curves were impossible to hide. Beneath the hood, a half-familiar, coldly beautiful face.

The instant he saw it, thoughts collided in his mind—

—but there was no time. Her slender finger was about to deliver a deadly gift to his forehead.

He twisted away.

Even slowed, the gap in strength and physique showed—the finger was blindingly fast.

Still, he dodged.

The blast of light and heat skimmed over his head, reducing his beloved top hat to ash and engulfing the stacked junk at the back of the room in an inferno.

Time resumed.

“Huh?” she murmured, surprised her certain hit had missed.

But it didn’t matter.

The second explosion spell was already forming.

Her finger dropped toward him, the signature light and heat condensing again.

“Shit.”

Cold sweat beaded instantly.

He snapped to attention, raising both hands in a perfect salute from his past life.

“Senior, it’s me!”

She paused.

Joy flared in his eyes—he ripped off the human-skin mask from his face.

Damn thing was too realistic—he’d almost forgotten he was wearing another man’s face.

Getting killed by your own Senior for being mistaken as some creep? Too pathetic.

Good thing he remembered in time.

“Senior—it’s me, Muen.”

Light bloomed in his palm, illuminating his face.

He let out a long breath.

“Senior, please stop, we—”

His pupils shrank.

That urgent chanting was back—

—but this wasn’t explosion. The melody was richer, like a twisted symphony.

Air moved.

Wind rose. Into a gale—into a hurricane.

The torrent rushed through the cramped room, snuffing the fire instantly.

And before he could react, the hurricane compressed—like an invisible hammer slamming into his chest.

Pinned against the wall, the wind’s crushing weight smothered him. He couldn’t move.

Through the strain, he met her eyes.

“Senior... why?”

She stepped closer.

The hood was torn back by the wind, revealing her face—still breathtakingly beautiful, but stripped of all warmth.

And her eyes... cold, reptilian. Snake’s eyes.

Anna closed in, touching his chest with a fingertip.

Her breathing was faintly rough, and in those snake eyes, he saw a glint of hunger—

—not lust. Hunger.

The way a parched traveler might look at a banquet.

“You...”

She stared at him and finally spoke, voice hoarse.

“Your heart... looks delicious...”

His breath caught.

His mind replayed the succubus’s words:

'Maybe... letting you see her like this will be better.'

'So that’s it?'

His fists clenched. Now he understood why the succubus had let Senior walk away—

—because she’d never truly been free.

The serpentinization had reached this stage?

No time for sorrow—she was drawing her whip again. The tip writhed like a snake, darting for him.

Pinned by wind, he had nowhere to go.

Only one way out—

His wrist twisted, palm pressed to the wall—

—Thunderclap!

Cracks split the wall.

Like a bursting water skin, the compressed wind swelled violently.

The wall shattered.

With the barrier gone, the magic-forged gale finally found release.

It exploded outward, hurling stone and Muen nearly a hundred meters into the air.

As he fell, he saw her standing in the ruined classroom.

Through the stubborn embers still clinging to the junk behind her, he glimpsed a faint, familiar gleam at her chest beneath the robe—

—but there was no time to confirm.

Her whip lashed out again, riding the lingering wind, streaking toward ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) him midair.

No way to dodge.

In desperation, he drew Elizabeth, crossing the white blades before his chest.

Clang!

Sparks flew.

The impact numbed his arms.

Midair, with no footing, the force sent him hurtling like a swatted fly—

—smashing into the academy yard and gouging a trench half a meter deep before blasting through the fence and finally stopping in the empty street.

Anna stood in the broken window, gazing coldly down.

Dust billowed, cloaking half the street, hiding his state.

A light flicked on in a house opposite, someone awakened by the commotion.

She stopped.

“Too far,” she said.

“Shame.”

She turned to leave—

—but the sound came first.

Wind.

But her magic was gone.

She whipped around—

—and saw him. Tattered clothes, covered in dirt, a bit battered, but leaping like a hunting leopard.

In his hands, twin white blades. They turned in his grip—knife light slashing down.

She reflexively raised her whip.

But against the force he carried now, the weapon in his hands, her whip seemed fragile.

Yet it didn’t break—

—because he’d struck with the spine.

“Elizabeth!” he barked.

And let go.

Vmmm—

Elizabeth spun like it had come alive, wrenching the whip from her hand and rolling far away.

The tip tried to rise—Elizabeth slapped it down and dragged it into the dark.

With nothing in the way, he lunged, seizing her wrist—

—and pinned her beneath him.

Looking down at the familiar but colder face, he finally let a smile show, speaking the words he’d wanted to say:

“Senior, long time no see. I finally caught you—eh?!”

Before he could finish, massive strength surged from her arm.

The world spun.

In an instant, the positions reversed.

He was pinned beneath her.

She was on top.

His cheek twitched in disbelief.

'What the hell? My body’s been strengthened—how is a woman still overpowering me? This makes no sense!'

But there was no time to debate physics.

She lowered her gaze, snake eyes cold.

“I’m going... to eat your heart.”

Her voice was gentle, but laced with utter cruelty.

As though the man beneath her wasn’t her junior, but a long-awaited meal.

A chill ran through him.

Yet staring up at her—this cold, monstrous girl—he smiled. Warmly. Brightly.

“Sure.”

He said,

“If it’s you, Senior... you can.”