After overcoming doubts and cynical stares, Sylphia finally stepped into the Reception Hall. She registered her name calmly, using the identity "Verin." There was no hesitation in her voice, and although the staff gave her a second glance, they still handed her a small key engraved with a silver sun—a sign that she would be placed in the elite dormitory reserved for nobles brought in through recommendation letters.
That dormitory was located in the eastern wing of the academy. An elegant building of white stone with tall pillars and wide glass windows. The corridors were quiet, accompanied only by the sound of boots and the whispers of the wind.
Night fell.
The room she occupied was moderately sized but cozy. Its walls were coated in soft green marble, and its window opened directly to the Star Garden. The bed was wide, dressed in pristine white sheets. A sturdy oak study table stood on the right, with a full-body mirror and wardrobe beside it, and a plush chair placed just before the window overlooking the starlit sky.
Sylphia sat on that chair, silent for a moment, staring at her reflection in the window. With a gentle motion, she removed the Disguise Mask—the illusionary tool that hid her true identity.
The transformation was slow, but inevitable.
Her pale blonde hair faded into silver-white, like the first snowfall. Her ears shrank, no longer as sharp as those of the elves. And her eyes… shifted from warm brown to icy blue, like a winter sky.
"Ah… I can finally take off this mask," she whispered with relief, stretching her arms and rolling her shoulders. "Having long ears like theirs was so uncomfortable."
A soft voice echoed behind her, carried by the night wind.
"You must be tired, love," said Reyhan, still floating.
"I am…" she replied softly, then smiled faintly. "You know, Father… to get here, I…"
She began telling her story.
How she first time out from the Absolute Dimension, alone and starving. How she hunted a deer in the forest, only for a wood elf child to steal it. But instead of fighting, they became friends. Together, they traveled to Myrel Thalas and met the colorful Huxlen family.
She spoke with excitement—about how Garden escorted her to the capital, how complex yet beautiful the journey was, the intense training she endured, and how she finally reached Spirit Initiate Stage 9. She occasionally mimicked attack moves, dodging stances, and her friend's silly fighting styles.
And Reyhan… he listened, unable to blink—if he had eyes. His voice was filled with laughter, his responses sincere, and every word from Sylphia was like a drop of rain on the barren soil of his soul.
Until now, Reyhan had never known what it felt like to be a father. He had never felt responsibility, warmth, or the bond of having a child. But tonight… tonight, he felt it.
After the long tale, Sylphia stood and walked to the bed.
But instead of lying down immediately, she rested her head on Reyhan's lap—his 'windform', now sitting at the edge of the bed. She was the only one who could touch him… the only one who could see and hear that form of wind.
Gently, Reyhan stroked her silver hair. His movements were careful, as if afraid to hurt her. And from lips that didn't exist, a soft lullaby echoed…
"Sleep, baby, sleep… if you don't, the mosquitoes will bite…"
An old song from his childhood in the orphanage. A song that once lulled him to sleep in the silence of a lonely world. Now… he sang it for a daughter who loved him.
And Sylphia…
A child who only knew cages, torment, and insults… for the first time in her life, felt loved.
Warm tears rolled down her cold cheeks as she drifted off.
Before falling asleep, she whispered.
"Thank you, Father… I love you…"
Reyhan replied with a quiet yet deep voice.
"Thank you too, my dear… I love you."
He kissed her forehead softly. And the night bore witness.
After lulling Sylphia to sleep with a lullaby unknown in this world, Reyhan couldn't sleep. Not because he didn't want to—but simply because… well, wind can't sleep.
So he slipped out of the room through the window, slowly floating up into the night sky blanketed with stars. The cold air whispered softly, carrying an almost perfect silence. He hovered like a drifting kite, arms crossed over his chest.
"Two, how are things on your side?" he asked, connecting his awareness to Reyhan Two—his other self in the Southeastern continent of Redbloyes.
A tired voice answered from afar, like a call center operator who'd taken 47 complaints in a row.
"My head's spinning… I've been going around all day, and all I found was war, torture, rape, bullying, and more crimes. What kind of world is this?! There's no break at all."
Reyhan One chuckled softly, withholding his half-sincere sympathy.
"Hang in there. It's the same here. I think we got reincarnated into a dark fantasy world."
"Think? This is definitely dark fantasy," Reyhan Two growled, like he just came out of an interrogation room. "You're lucky—you've got Sylphia. Me? I'm alone. My only companion is a corpse begging to be finished off."
"Then go find someone. Don't just wander," Reyhan One replied while twirling lazily in the air.
"I want to, but I can't just pick randomly. Did you see that notification from the system you told to shut up yesterday?"
"Not yet. Why?"
"Check it yourself."
"Alright. System, display previously hidden notification."
[Displaying Notification…]
[Congratulations! Host has obtained 1 additional follower slot.]
[Current follower slots: 1/2]
"WHAT?!" Reyhan One shouted, spinning mid-air and crashing into the academy's clocktower chimney—though he just phased through it.
"See? If it weren't limited, I would've picked one of the slaves being traded earlier."
"You're right. From now on, we'll save everyone," said Reyhan One firmly. "But we must be careful in choosing our children (followers). For the first few, we need someone brilliant—someone who can become the foundation of change. We can't be careless."
"Exactly!" Reyhan Two snapped. "How about this—let's trade places! You've already found a special one like Sylphia. You're better at this."
"Hello? Hello? Sorry, the signal's bad," Reyhan One pretended to cut out. "Anyway, good luck! I'm rooting for you, Two!"
"Hello? One? Can you hear me? Hel—"
[Your connection has been cut off by the main consciousness.]
"DAMN YOU! Just wait!" Reyhan Two roared from afar.
Back to Reyhan One—the main consciousness—who now floated slowly above Lumenvale Academy.
"Asking to switch, huh," he muttered while doing a slow backflip. "I'm finally comfy here, getting used to the dark vibes."
He hovered quietly above the main tower, thinking about what to do tonight. But since this was Reyhan, of course, he wouldn't just float around doing nothing.
"Maybe I should explore the Academy. Might find useful info for my daughter tomorrow. Hmm… Library first, obviously! Hehehe."
After settling on his plan, he instantly shifted his awareness toward the library.
"Haven't been here in a while… kinda missed it."
The library was as quiet as always, and he slipped in gracefully through a tiny gap under the door.
He floated near the receptionist desk. Empty. Spotless, too.
"Where is she...?" he mumbled while gliding between the bookshelves. "Back then I was too focused on studying to notice."
But his thoughts quickly changed. He'd once heard rumors that Professor Rosalia Larnia lived in a hidden room behind one of the bookshelves. So he began inspecting the shelves, one by one, for air gaps.
And—click—on the third shelf, jackpot!
He slipped into the hidden room and was left speechless by the scene inside.
Rosalia Larnia sat gracefully at her desk, reading a book. She wore an elegant white nightgown, her blue hair tied neatly, and a monocle perched on one eye—giving her a classy aura.
"She's still as beautiful as ever," Reyhan floated beside her, awestruck. "Her beauty hasn't changed."
But his presence sent chills down her spine. An unusual breeze brushed the back of her neck. She turned… no one there. But the wind was unmistakable.
"Eh? Why is it suddenly so cold?" Rosalia murmured, starting to feel uneasy. She closed her book—slowly at first… then with a thud. "Don't tell me… a ghost?!"
Without thinking twice, Rosalia bolted to her bed, jumped in, and yanked the blanket over her head. Only her nose was left sticking out.
"Mr. Ghost… I'm sorry if I did anything wrong… but could you please go away? I just want to sleep…"
Reyhan, right beside her, was already trying to hold back his laughter. But he failed.
"BWHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
His laugh shattered the silence, and the wind swirled even more violently around the room. The books on the shelves trembled.
Under the blanket, Rosalia nearly passed out. If she wasn't a god-tier professor, she might have already sprinted through the academy screaming her lungs out.
"All right, that's enough for tonight," said Reyhan, wiping imaginary tears from his formless eyes. "Poor girl, she'll have nightmares. I still have a long way to go."
With that, he left the room and soared back into the night sky.
A few seconds later…
[DING]
[Detecting a large energy convergence]
[Location: Western High Tower of the Academy]
"Hmm… suspicious." Reyhan sharpened his gaze toward the mentioned tower. "Okay then, time to play Detective."
Without hesitation, he shifted his consciousness straight into the tower.
Western High Tower – Lumenvale Academy
The place felt like the hidden heart of a sleeping giant. The corridors were silent, walls layered with dark stone that absorbed light, etched with ancient markings in the Primordial Spirit tongue—so obscure even Google Translate would throw in the towel.
Reyhan slipped through a narrow gap beneath the sealed doors. The atmosphere inside was dim. Pale blue spirit crystals hung from the ceiling, glowing like cold stars. In the center of the room stood a polished obsidian round table, like a frozen black lake.
The Council of Professors' Meeting Chamber.
On the table, nine holograms flickered to life. The professors' forms looked like living statues—regal, cold, and yes… a bit terrifying.
The only real human in the room was Headmaster Hareth Vonzelle, an old man with a silver beard and clouded eyes that seemed to hold all the world's secrets.
One seat remained empty. The faint glow above it was almost gone.
Chairwoman of the Council, Rosalia Larnia, was absent.
"So," a deep voice broke the silence.
Professor Varneth of the Water Spirit Department spoke with a sharp tone. "We've been called here in the middle of the night… over a mere child named Verin?"
Sirton Wardmoon, face calm and expressionless, responded firmly, "He came with a letter of recommendation from me personally. That letter is still valid."
"But we all know why such recommendations are rarely handed out!" said Professor Ignia of the Fire Element Department, her voice crackling like embers. "Only exceptional nobles or those of holy blood may use them!"
"Then why give it to some nobody?!" snapped another hologram, eyes narrowing. "We're not a charity."
Some professors immediately rejected the idea, while others started speculating about Sirton's hidden motives.
But Sirton stood his ground. Arms crossed, voice like ice.
"If you want to throw away talent just because of his origins, be my guest. But if he passes tomorrow's selection… don't question my decision again."
"And if he fails?" Hareth asked softly, but with an edge in his tone.
Sirton gave a firm nod.
"If he fails… I will personally escort him out of the academy gates."
"My daughter won't fail," Reyhan said confidently, hovering and watching them all.
Silence fell again. The holograms exchanged looks. Some seemed satisfied. Others remained doubtful.
Finally, Hareth stood up.
"Very well. Then we are agreed. If the boy passes the selection and meets our standards, he stays. If not…"
He looked at everyone present.
"…he will be expelled."
One by one, the holograms faded away. Silence returned to the chamber.
Only Hareth and Sirton remained.
"Hm, Sirton," Hareth said in his deep voice.
"Yes, Headmaster?" Sirton replied calmly.
"You wouldn't happen to know… where that old lady is? Why is Rosalia absent?"
Sirton suppressed a smile. "Ah, you mean Council Chairwoman Rosalia… perhaps, as always, she's buried in her books. Aren't you the one most familiar with her habits?"
Hareth sighed. "You're probably right."
"Wait—old lady?!" Reyhan was shocked, holding both his invisible hands over his wind-head. "Well, I guess it makes sense… she's an elf, after all."