Chapter 162

The laughter that followed his answer scattered on the wind and faded.

Lloyd wore the same smile he always did.

Then he raised his tone a notch and tossed out a different topic.

"That aside. There's something I've been curious about."

Mikhail didn't answer right away. Instead, he met Lloyd's gaze head-on—those eyes curved like half-moons.

Sky-blue irises that sparkled like the early-summer sea.

A sliver of shadow resting over them traced its outline across the Cloelle heir's corneas, adding a layer of depth.

Lloyd's look when curiosity and interest got the better of him.

Mikhail blinked—like opening and closing the shutters on an attic window—and dredged up an old memory.

The expression Lloyd was making right now.

It was, in truth, identical to the one Mikhail had seen just after entering this world, right after subduing the mana rampage phenomenon.

[Eyes like the early-summer sea. The shadow falling over them deepened a shade. Lloyd Cloelle gazed with that unhurried look of his and smiled a smile whose depths no one could read.]

But the meaning behind this particular scene was the same as back then and yet different in certain ways.

Lloyd's curiosity rarely lasted long. Factor in that stubborn temperament of his, and the reality was…

Lloyd's curiosity might actually run deeper now than the first time we met.

Mikhail curled his fingertips and lowered his eyes. A sky the exact same color as Lloyd's irises pressed down on his shoulders from a dizzying height.

Come to think of it, in the early days he'd resolved to keep his distance from Cloelle—unwilling to get too deeply entangled.

He'd planned to stay on the periphery, never drawing the attention of the key players or placing himself at the center of the main storyline.

But whether clinging to that approach still made sense at this point… was an open question.

Yeah…. If that's how things stand, then from now on.

He had no intention of running.

Mikhail swallowed a breath that felt a touch warmer than before and opened his mouth.

"What is it."

"Two things. Can you answer both?"

"Let's hear them first. I'll decide after."

Lloyd gave an easy nod.

"Sure. Then, first—do you happen to have some kind of…"

Lloyd trailed off, his eyes narrowing. He folded his arms, wiggled one finger back and forth, then came out with it.

"Some kind of leverage over Ethan?"

—Cough.

Of all the things to say out of nowhere.

Mikhail thumped his chest and hacked out a string of dry coughs. When he finally managed words, his voice came out cracked.

"What are you even talking about? Leverage?"

"If that's not it, then there's no explanation for behavior Ethan would never show. That's why I'm asking."

Mikhail stared at Lloyd. Lloyd shrugged, scrunched his nose, and kept going.

"Ethan—sure, he might've grown up a little rough around the edges, but he never laid a hand on people who didn't deserve it. During this campaign, though, when the cave collapsed? That was different."

"……"

"The second he heard you were in danger, he moved like he'd lost his mind. Threw punches at anyone in his way—friend or foe—and tried to force his way into the cave. …It was like watching a completely different person."

What Lloyd was describing was, in truth, a story Mikhail had already heard once from Dian.

But the same account hit differently when it arrived in a moment of calm rather than shock—landing in his ears with a resonance it hadn't carried before.

Mikhail bit the inside of his lower lip. He watched Lloyd's profile as Lloyd stroked his chin and pressed on.

"So, fine…. Let's say Ethan's violent reaction over your safety was guilt—guilt over leaving you behind in the cave. But the part that was even stranger…"

Lloyd's eyes sharpened to a narrow edge.

"A few words of persuasion wouldn't have been enough to turn him around. Ethan isn't the type to walk away from a companion left in danger."

"……"

"Sure, you had a Return Stone on you, but under normal circumstances that wouldn't have mattered. He'd have tried to drag you out himself no matter what."

Mikhail offered no comment on any of it. He just smiled bitterly and let his head drop.

A companion, huh….

There wasn't a single thing he could argue with.

Just as Lloyd said, Ethan wasn't the kind of person who'd turn his back on a companion in danger.

At the very least, there should have been a few rounds of back-and-forth—some amount of pushing and pulling before he relented.

That much, at minimum, should have happened.

The crash of waves threaded its way into his ears with a sharp, tingling clarity. Mikhail paused for a beat, then parted the lips he'd been holding shut.

"You're right. Lloyd."

"……"

"But I didn't force or threaten Ethan into backing down. It was nothing like that. If anything, it was more… a little more. Probably…"

The deeper he went, the heavier his chest sank. Mikhail let the silence sit for a moment, then pressed his voice low and spoke.

"Too many misjudgments piled up. That's all."

There was nothing more to add. Mikhail swallowed a breath that stung with self-reproach and stared at his own feet planted on the ground.

A stretch of silence passed like that.

Then Lloyd, standing beside him, broke it in a breezy tone.

"Misjudgments, huh. Could you explain that in a little more detail?"

"No. Probably not."

Mikhail shook his head as he answered.

Lloyd let a soft hum hang in the air before picking up the thread.

"Honestly, it's not the kind of answer I can make sense of right away."

"……"

"But I don't get the feeling you're lying to me, either. Or… maybe I just want to believe that."

Mikhail glanced at Lloyd from the corner of his eye.

Lloyd was speaking in a tone of genuine frankness, and weaving a subtle thread of goodwill through it as he went.

Regardless of how satisfied he was with the answer he'd received, he wanted to keep this relationship in good standing. That much was clear.

"……"

Lloyd's foot tapped the ground in an idle rhythm—as if his thoughts were hopping across stepping stones—for a minute or so.

Then he shifted gears, brightening his voice, and moved to the next question.

"Anyway, thanks for answering. Now, second question! This might sound odd, but—have you noticed any changes in your body?"

The bewildering question made Mikhail's shoulders twitch.

He wrinkled his brow and tilted his head up toward Lloyd.

"Are you playing doctor? I thought we were well past the age for that."

"…No. What are you even talking about."

Lloyd cut the conversation short with a sound that was half sigh, half laugh, then folded his arms and continued.

"Not that. I mean your father."

"Joseph Senit?"

"Yeah, him. Feels a bit awkward bringing up your father's history right to your face, but… anyway. He spent years being called a troublemaker and a menace, and then right around your age he started being called a genius."

That was accurate. Mikhail nodded without objection.

Lloyd rolled his eyes to one side and tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"The thing is, you seem to be following the same path. Rock-bottom reputation, rock-bottom grades, and then this slow rise to prominence. It's like watching your father's story all over again. So I wondered if maybe there were… signs."

"Signs of what…"

"The reason your father, Joseph Senit, became the greatest mage in history."

Lloyd placed a single breath between his sentences like a pause for emphasis.

Then he tilted his head back and gazed up at the sky. His eyes traced the fragments of cloud drifting across the blue.

"The ability to see through the structure of a formula and read its meaning."

"……"

"In theory, they say there's no magic he can't dismantle and no formula he can't construct."

Mikhail watched Lloyd's profile for a while, then shifted his own gaze upward to the sky above their heads.

Broken cloud fragments were drifting past—misshapen and incomplete, as though they'd snapped off some massive cumulonimbus.

Shapes in the same colorless gray as the awakening fragments he'd picked up from the shop.

Mikhail watched the clouds glide by in silence, then tipped his head to one side and answered Lloyd.

"Unfortunately, I can't say for sure. Not yet."

"I see."

Lloyd sounded entirely unbothered. He let a quiet laugh slip.

"Well, I'm sure it'll come to you soon enough."

"What makes you so certain?"

"Just a feeling. Cloelle intuition."

When Mikhail narrowed his eyes and let the skepticism show, Lloyd smiled lightly and leaned in toward him.

A brief shift—but the air around him turned sharper than it had been a moment ago.

Under the still, tranquil atmosphere, Lloyd's voice drifted out in a murmur from beside Mikhail's face.

"You already know this, but the Cloelles are restorers. People who are obligated to learn everything there is to know about the world."

"……"

"Maybe that's why. When it comes to sensing things that might become anomalies of the world… for some reason, we've never been wrong."

The low voice soaked into the air and dissolved. Lloyd straightened the upper body he'd leaned toward Mikhail.

Then he gave Mikhail's shoulder a couple of light taps as Mikhail stood rooted in place, and flashed his usual sunny grin.

"Well, take it for what it's worth. Nothing to get serious about."

Mikhail studied Lloyd for a long, quiet moment, then answered.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Lloyd puffed a short breath in Mikhail's direction, stretched his whole body in a long arc, then turned to face the direction of the campus and changed his tone.

"Oh, that reminds me—did you turn in the trophy from the campaign? And the course registration form for the free study period?"

"Haven't submitted a single thing yet."

"Yikes. You'd better hurry. Unless you want to get stuck in a crowd and deal with that whole mess."

"Easy for you to say. You haven't turned yours in either, have you?"

"Ugh… I'm already past saving. Go on ahead."

Lloyd clutched his chest in a theatrical show of collapse and waved Mikhail off. Mikhail watched the performance, let a light breath fall from his lips, and turned away.

"……"

Atop the windmill—the closest point to the open sky.

The only sound was his footsteps crossing the wooden planks mounted up there.

"Mikhail."

Mikhail stopped mid-stride and turned to look at Lloyd.

Lloyd was leaning against the railing, waving with that signature mischievous grin on his face.

"See you in class. Try not to fall asleep this time."

Mikhail gazed out at the gold hair streaming beneath the wide-open sky like an old heirloom caught in the wind.

Then he opened his mouth with a tone that matched Lloyd's mischief note for note.

"Worry about yourself before me. Lloyd."

---

Lloyd had been right. The moment Mikhail climbed down from the windmill and headed straight over, he turned in the campaign trophy and completed his course registration without any real holdup.

He finished the last of his business at the academic support office, then stepped outside the building with a certificate in hand.

[Course Registration Completion Certificate]

Mikhail hummed a short note and slid the paper into his inner pocket.

That was when he noticed the flood of people pouring into the academic building behind him.

It's going to be a madhouse in there.

Mikhail glanced sidelong at the crowd, then looked up at the sky stained with the colors of sunset.

After that, he lowered his gaze to his own hands.

Course registration—done. Final grades—collected.

And the next thing he needed to look into…

The force that drove the anomaly in the main storyline.

That was something else entirely.