When the magic activation ended, Leopold lost his composure. He sat down heavily, clenching his fists and breathing hard. Sometimes, he would leave the underground lab without even greeting Isabel, as if he were fleeing. Occasionally, he stood there for a long time, looking lost.

As the magic neared its conclusion, his complexion worsened to the point where Isabel had to force him to take a recovery potion.

“I still wonder if any of this even has a meaning,” he said.

“Are you about to lecture me again?” he replied, downing the potion in one go and placing the empty glass bottle on the table with a slightly irritated gesture. However, contrary to his expectations, Isabel spoke with a skeptical expression, almost lamenting.

“No. According to the ancient texts, even if you return, Hazel won’t know anything anyway. It means the person you need to seek forgiveness from doesn’t exist.”

He had thought and worried about this countless times already. The reason she brought it up now was likely because watching over him was as mentally taxing for her as it was for him. After Hazel’s death, Isabel had visibly aged and lost her vitality.

Leopold responded to her with patience. They weren’t in a relationship where they could comfort each other, but at least they shouldn’t inflict more pain.

“…Instead, she becomes someone without painful memories. She can live a happier life.”

“The truth is, my student here bore all the pain and died…” Isabel muttered powerlessly. Even though her words were accusatory, they sounded only sad. She asked in a voice devoid of any expectation, “Can’t you just live quietly in atonement from now on?”

“That… I cannot do,” Leopold replied with difficulty, burdened by his own anguish.

“I see Hazel every day. It’s an illusion, but in the real past, she is… completely alive. Sometimes she smiles and finds happiness in small things. Of course, she is sad more often because of me…”

He found it hard to continue speaking. Recently, the Hazel he saw was beyond just being sad. There were many times when she didn’t say a word, spending her days locked in her room, staring blankly out the window or sleeping endlessly. It seemed as if she was entirely consumed by depression, her soul vanished.

“At any moment, I can’t even reach her. Even begging for forgiveness becomes a luxury. How maddening it feels each time…” His voice trembled more and more. The more he confessed his wrongdoings aloud, the clearer Hazel’s dying image became. He didn’t want to expose his inner self any further, yet strangely, he couldn’t stop talking.

“It’s not just about guilt,” he continued.

Isabel looked at him with a weary face, waiting silently for whatever he had to say next, as if ready to listen to anything.

“I really… miss Hazel.”

Somehow, it felt like he had always wanted to say this.

I miss her…

Even though he saw her every day, Leopold missed Hazel. The illusion only served to perfectly confirm her absence.

“You must love her, I suppose,” Isabel, who had been unable to erase the bitterness from her face, slowly spoke. Leopold couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“The word ‘love’ is quite convenient, isn’t it? It can make even this wretched selfishness sound grand with just one word.”

The thought that he shouldn’t dare use such an expression constantly clashed with the thought that even such a word wasn’t enough. However, if his aim was to make others understand, it was the most precise word.

“I’ve loved Hazel for a long time. I think I was strongly drawn to her from the first time I saw her. When she was still just a tiny child… In hindsight, I might have to describe it as instinct.”

Sympathy, compassion, a slight sense of kinship… Back then, he was still young, and he thought such common emotions were something anyone would have. However, no matter how many war orphans with tragic stories he met while wandering the borderlands, he never encountered anyone who stirred his heart as strongly as Hazel did.

“You know, Headmaster, I’m not someone capable of loving anyone. Especially a monster like me, who destroys everything. My father, my wife. My mother survived merely by luck.”

“Leo!”

Isabel frowned and tried to stop him, but Leopold continued speaking undeterred.

“Do you know how I felt when I realized I loved Hazel?”

He gave a bitter smile.

“It was terror beyond fear.”

Even just stating the fact made his hands tremble. His childhood was now a distant past, and his mother’s punishments were gone, yet he still couldn’t escape the emotions of that time, which he found pathetic.

“If I can’t give Hazel what she wants… she’ll end up resenting and hating me. Have you ever been looked at with contempt by someone you love, Headmaster?”

Isabel didn’t answer but instead rested her forehead on her hand and let out a small sigh. She was the only person, aside from the tight-lipped employees of the Lawrence family, who had witnessed Leopold’s wounds.

“My mother raised me like that my whole life. Just thinking about that look still makes my chest ache like it’s being stabbed. I suppose it’s all because I’m weak.”

“Leo, that’s absolutely—”

“Sometimes my mother would come to me in the middle of the night, crying and screaming at me to bring my father back to life. How could I possibly grant such a request? I couldn’t even cry. She glared at me as if she would kill me, saying I didn’t even have the right to cry.”

There were many times when he couldn’t tell if his mother shaking him awake and choking him was a nightmare or reality. Like a madwoman, she would scream and then embrace him, weeping.

At first, he was confused because he couldn’t understand the meaning of her actions. But soon, Leopold came to a conclusion. His mother cried so sorrowfully because she loved him too. She couldn’t bear that her beloved son had killed her beloved husband.

Unfortunately, it took him many years to realize that his belief was nothing but a delusion.

“The thought that Hazel might hate me like that… just the thought of it makes it hard to breathe. You may not believe me, but…”

It was a fear that never faded with time. No matter how often he reminded himself that Hazel and his mother were different people, the emotion gnawed at him like a worm, leaving scars on his soul.

“So I ran away… and I thought she would run away too…”

“Fool.”

Isabel, who had been silent, clicked her tongue. Leopold shook his head. Calling himself a fool wasn’t enough. No amount of insults could suffice to condemn him.

“Do you know what past I revisited today?”

Looking back, it was so absurdly cruel that it was almost laughable. As Isabel narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brow, looking at him as if he were insane, Leopold spoke again.

“When Hazel was attending the academy, she regularly sent me letters. I kept them carefully, but I burned them in front of her. One by one, I threw them into the fireplace for her to see.”

He knew there was no need to go that far, but he deliberately acted excessively, as if that would somehow extinguish his feelings for Hazel.

“Seeing her wounded expression made me want to tear my heart out. What an idiot I was, doing such things…”

Wishing for forgiveness for actions he couldn’t forgive himself for? It was a mindset no sensible person could have. Yet, kneeling before her every day was merely a means to endure until the magic ended. Without doing so, he felt he might truly lose his mind from despair.

“For now, I can only hope to bring Hazel back before my magic is completely exhausted.”

He struggled to suppress the emotions welling up inside him. He needed more time to meet Hazel, and indulging in sentimentality could wait until after he succeeded with the return magic.

“I feel the same way. I don’t want to see you die too.”

Her tone was calm, but it carried sincerity. It seemed she also sensed that Leopold would eventually die.

“I’m glad you’re considering my thoughts.”

“Nonsense. Go and rest now. If you’re going to work again, take another potion.”

It was Isabel’s way of showing concern, knowing well how he pushed himself every day.

Leopold gave a slight smile and quickly emptied another glass bottle.

***

Before his magic is exhausted, I don’t want to see you die too. Is this the best clue I could find after searching through all my memories…?

My legs gave out. I collapsed beside the bed and looked at Leopold, lying there as though he were dead. Tears flowed incessantly, making it pointless to wipe them, yet if I didn’t, I couldn’t see his face at all.

Breathlessly panting, I wiped my face with both hands, then reached out again, pouring magic into Leopold’s heart. Yet the sensation of my magic being drained remained. It would be nice if the stolen power could at least heal his heart, but Leopold’s magic wasn’t of the healing kind.

Why didn’t the magic work like it did when I healed his leg? Was it because that was just a minor injury with little impact on life and death, and now I was trying to save his life?

The hypothesis I least wanted to believe was becoming reality. If only Leopold’s magic, which fundamentally blocked my power, didn’t exist, I might somehow attempt to heal him. But without magic, he would lose his life, just as I had.

However, if I left him like this, losing him was… inevitable.