From the corner of my eye, I caught the faint crease of worry on Lena's brow.
She won't leave me alone.
…just as I expected.
She rose to her feet.
Not abruptly. Not in alarm. But with that same composed grace she'd shown from the beginning—as if everything was unfolding exactly as she intended.
But it wasn't.
I had led her here. Every word, every glance, every trembling step had been carefully placed like stones across a river. Leading her across to where I needed her to be.
I forced my legs to move, one sluggish step after another, putting distance between us.
Even as my body screamed in protest, I kept going.
My legs felt like lead, trembling with each step, but I pushed through the pain with sheer willpower alone.
Because I had to.
My entire plan hinged on her next move.
If she was the same person described in the novel—the kindhearted, meddlesome professor—then everything would go as planned.
But if I had misjudged her…
If she really was the cold, detached professional she pretended to be…
Then this was all for nothing.
My body was at its limit. If she didn't stop me, I wouldn't make it much further.
I wouldn't even be able to crawl.
Which meant I'd be stuck right here.
Out in the open. Vulnerable.
A scenario I absolutely couldn't afford.
As the distance between us grew, my chest tightened with dread.
I could feel it—the creeping panic clawing at my throat.
Was this it?
Did I miscalculate?
I gritted my teeth, forcing my legs to keep moving, even as my vision blurred at the edges.
Do I have no choice but—
"W-Wait!"
Lena's voice rang out, sharp and urgent, cutting through my spiraling thoughts.
I froze.
Relief washed over me, and my tense shoulders relaxed just a fraction.
Got her.
Slowly, I turned my head, schooling my expression into one of mild surprise.
"Yes…?" I asked weakly, my voice barely above a whisper.
When our eyes met, I saw the worry in hers. Her lips were parted, breath uneven from calling out.
"I'll help you," she said firmly, already stepping toward me.
For a moment, I blinked at her, feigning uncertainty.
"Oh… you don't have to," I mumbled, forcing a faint smile despite the exhaustion in my voice. "I'll be fine."
Lena shook her head, her footsteps quickening as she closed the gap between us.
"No," she said softly but with an unmistakable firmness. "You're not fine. Not like this."
Her eyes locked onto mine, searching for the truth buried beneath my weak smile.
I swallowed hard, the heaviness in my chest growing with every second.
Her hand reached out, steady and sure, gripping my arm to keep me from falling.
The warmth of her touch was both a comfort and a warning—I couldn't afford to let my guard down.
But the ache in my legs and the burning in my lungs told me I had no choice.
I let her support me as I took a hesitant step forward, then another.
"…Alright," I murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. "Thank you."
That sealed it.
Lena closed the distance between us in a few quick strides. Her movements were swift, but careful—measured, like someone trained to handle fragile things without breaking them. She reached out and placed a steadying hand on my arm, her touch gentle but firm.
"You're burning up," she said under her breath, frowning slightly as she felt the heat radiating off my skin.
I didn't respond. Just let my legs buckle a little more, my weight shift toward her. She caught me immediately, looping one arm around my back, supporting most of my weight with ease. It was… comforting. Almost too much.
She really was just like the novel said.
Too kind for her own good.
Too trusting.
Perfect.
Her kindness was a blade.
Beautiful, sharp, and destined to turn on herself.
In the novel, that same compassion led her straight into ruin. She'd throw herself into fires for people who'd already given up—risking everything for lost causes, until one finally took her down. The readers mourned her, but the plot didn't pause. She was discarded like a matchstick—bright, fleeting, and ultimately replaceable.
"Never a Heroine," they called it—
a cruel joke for someone who burned so brightly in the background, only to die for someone else's arc.
But I wasn't about to let that happen. Not yet.
Not until I got what I needed.
Lena helped me lower myself to the ground, her hand never once leaving my back. I let my head loll to the side, letting out a shallow breath as though the effort of sitting down had drained what little I had left.
"You're lucky I found you," she murmured, already pulling a flask from her satchel. "This heat is brutal today. What were you thinking, pushing yourself like that?"
I gave her a sheepish look, one corner of my mouth twitching into a practiced, apologetic smile.
"I thought I could handle it," I whispered. "I guess I overestimated myself."
She frowned. "Everyone has limits. Knowing yours isn't weakness—it's responsibility."
There it was again—that principled tone, laced with disappointment and care. If I didn't know any better, I'd have mistaken it for scolding. But it wasn't.
She was worried.
Hooked.
Just a little deeper.
I took the flask and drank slowly, my fingers brushing hers just enough to feel the slight tension in her hand.
"Rest few minutes and then I'll get you there."
I just nodded towards and lety body rest.
My legs which has protesting for while calm down.
Well it was for only few minutes but I know that I needed the rest.
After I rested enough, Lena carry me on her back.
It was embarrassing.
But hey, I wasn't going to complaint it.
After all, I got free ride.
---
Twenty-five minutes.
That was all it took for us to climb the rocky mountain and reach the destination.
Twenty-five minutes....
If I'd been alone?
I'd still be dragging myself up the slope, probably collapsing before sundown.
But thanks to my superhuman bus, I made it in record time.
Better than I'd hoped.
By now, my body had recovered enough to walk normally again.
Lena lowered herself to the ground, stretching her legs with a tired sigh.
We'd made it.
I inhaled deeply, the crisp mountain air filling my lungs, and exhaled through my nose.
I was this close to my goal.
Turning to Lena, I dipped my head slightly.
"Thanks for the assist," I said, keeping my tone casual but appreciative. "If you hadn't stepped in, I'd have missed my shot."
Lena gave a small, modest smile.
"No, it's fine. I just did what anyone would do," she replied softly. Then she pointed to the right. "The spring you mentioned—it's just over there."
I followed her gesture and spotted the small spring.
I nodded faintly.
"Yeah. Thanks."
I walked toward it, my steps slow but steady.
No room for mistakes now.
In the novel, some throwaway villain stumbled across this spot by dumb luck, tripped into the water, and accidentally activated the dormant array beneath the spring.
What followed was a mess—an incomplete awakening of an ancient weapon, a half-broken seal bleeding corrupted mana, and the introduction of a cursed plotline that spiraled far beyond what the author likely intended.
But I wasn't here to trip.
I was here to open it properly.
I knelt by the edge of the spring, the water crystal-clear and deceptively calm. Beneath the surface, faint traces of runes shimmered—so faint that no ordinary person would notice unless they were looking for them.
I was looking.
I dipped two fingers into the water, letting the coolness numb my skin. Then, slowly, I whispered the incantation buried in the author's lore posts—never included in the book, only mentioned once during a Q&A on some forgotten forum.
"Rai'sheval… ommir ek'tahl."
The moment the words left my mouth, the air shifted.
A low hum pulsed through the ground, subtle at first, like a heartbeat awakening after years of stillness. The water trembled slightly. Then the ripples stilled, forming an unnatural mirror that reflected not the sky above, but the glowing sigils blooming beneath.
Behind me, I heard Lena stir.
"What was that?" she asked.
I turned slightly, giving her a tired, clueless look. "I don't know. It just started humming."
She approached slowly, crouching beside me, eyes narrowing at the spring. "I've never seen anything like this."
Good.
That meant she didn't know what it was.
And if she didn't know, she wouldn't try to stop me.
I turned my gaze back to the water. The sigils were aligning now, forming the shape of an eye—one that would only open if the correct blood touched the center. Not a key. A sacrifice.
In the novel, that idiot villain used a rabbit.
I had something better.
I bit the inside of my cheek and spat into the spring. A single drop of blood sank into the center of the eye, and in the same breath, everything shifted.
The spring trembled.
A soft hum filled the air as the water glowed, casting a faint, ethereal light.
It was happening.
...And then flash of light appeared in front of their eyes.
…Instantly, Lena covered her eyes with her hands, a sharp gasp escaping her lips.
And when the light was gone, Rin was nowhere in her sights.
She blinked rapidly, eyes adjusting to the fading glow, heart pounding in her chest.
"Rin?" she called, stepping closer to the spring.
Nothing.
No voice. No movement. Not even footsteps.
Only the rippling water, now still again—its surface eerily calm, as if nothing had happened at all.
Lena's eyes swept the area, her brows furrowed in confusion. There was no sign of a struggle, no hint of where he could've gone. Just the faint scent of scorched air and the lingering tingle of magic still clinging to the earth.
Her breath hitched.
He hadn't just vanished.
He'd been taken.
Or… he'd gone willingly.
Lena's gaze returned to the spring. The runes beneath the surface had changed. The eye was gone, replaced now by a spiral of concentric rings, pulsing faintly with an inner glow.
She reached a tentative hand toward the water—but before her fingers could make contact, the spring hissed and shimmered, throwing off a sudden wave of heat.
She jerked her hand back with a wince. "What the hell…?"
The spring was sealing itself.
Shutting down, layer by layer.
Lena's heart raced, her thoughts spinning.
What did he do?
Where did he go?
She looked over her shoulder at the empty mountain path they'd climbed, suddenly feeling a chill roll down her spine.
Something wasn't right.
The next moment Lena heard a voice in her head, an Unfamiliar voice.
[Can you sacrifice yourself to save others?]
"What?"
[Can you sacrifice yourself to save others?]
The voice was calm.
Too calm.
It echoed in her skull like it had always been there, waiting—lurking just beneath the surface of her thoughts.
Lena staggered back from the spring, her eyes wide, heart thudding painfully against her ribs.
"What is this?" she whispered, glancing around, trying to find the source. "Who's there?"
[Answer the question.]
This time, the voice was closer. Sharper. It didn't come through her ears—it bypassed them entirely, vibrating against the marrow of her bones.
Lena's lips trembled. "No—what question? What do you mean?"
[Can you sacrifice yourself to save others?]
It wasn't just a question anymore. It was a demand. A trial.
The spring behind her let out a low, rumbling sigh, as if exhaling something ancient and expectant.
Lena's breath caught.
She wasn't supposed to be part of this.
She was just helping a guy get to a spring.
But now?
Now, something had noticed her. Marked her.
The air thickened, heavy with unseen pressure. Lena could feel it pressing against her skull, trying to worm its way into her mind.
Lena's mouth was dry.
Her eyes were drawn back to the water. She didn't move closer—she didn't dare—but something in her heart told her the moment she said yes, there would be no going back.
The world would change.
And so would she.
She took one shaky breath.
Then another.
And whispered, "...Yes."
The spring exploded with light.
...And she was gone as well.