Chapter 232: The Weight of Grief

Professor Antoine Chastellain had been staying at the observation ward for nearly a week when Doctor Henri Valmont recommended transferring him to a more secure room.

The decision followed another incident involving his unstable magic.

During the previous evening, several objects had begun moving without his conscious control, and the protective enchantments surrounding his room had registered an unusual disturbance.

Antoine had immediately alerted the medical staff, and nobody had been injured, but the episodes were becoming stronger despite his efforts to control them.

Valmont explained the situation after reviewing the latest examination results.

“Your ability to suppress the manifestations remains intact, Professor. The problem is that you’re having to exert more effort each time. If this continues, there may come a point when your usual methods are no longer sufficient.”

Antoine understood the concern. He had noticed the same pattern, particularly when the mysterious woman’s voice appeared during moments of emotional distress.

The longer she spoke, the more difficult it became to separate his own thoughts from the feelings she encouraged him to embrace.

He had continued recording every encounter, but those reports were becoming increasingly uncomfortable to write.

Valmont recommended stricter observation and temporarily suspended visits unrelated to treatment.

However, he permitted Ilya to continue visiting, reasoning that the young wizard had become an important source of emotional support.

Antoine accepted the restrictions without complaint.

When Ilya arrived that afternoon, he found the professor settling into his new accommodations. The room was larger than his previous one, with reinforced furniture and protective enchantments designed to contain unexpected magical disturbances.

Unfortunately, Antoine looked less enthusiastic about the improvements.

“Another room, Professor? At this rate, you’ll have experienced every accommodation this clinic has to offer.”

“I’m beginning to suspect they’re preparing to charge me for the entire building.”

“Then you’d better recover before they show you the expensive rooms.”

Antoine laughed, although his exhaustion remained obvious.

The transfer had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He had spent decades teaching students how to control their magic, yet now he couldn’t guarantee that the objects around him would remain where he placed them.

Ilya understood his frustration, but he was relieved that Valmont had taken appropriate precautions. The professor remained lucid and cooperative, and there was no reason to treat him as someone who had already undergone Distortion.

Their conversation eventually turned toward the Imperial investigation.

Ilya informed him that Edmund Falkenrath remained in custody and that investigators were examining the documents recovered from his estate. The authorities had confirmed that the missing Saint Aurelia records passed through his financial network, although their final destination remained unknown.

“Has he confessed?” Antoine asked.

“Not yet. Laurent has enough evidence to keep him occupied without one.”

“Good. I hope he understands what those records cost.”

The professor’s voice carried a bitterness Ilya had rarely heard from him.

He didn’t comment on it immediately. Antoine had every reason to resent the financier, particularly after discovering that the children’s suffering had been treated as something worth purchasing.

However, the professor’s anger was becoming increasingly difficult for him to manage.

Ilya therefore shifted the discussion toward SkyRune.

The new initiative had completed another stage of its work, identifying several modifications commonly associated with prohibited human experimentation. Its findings would help legitimate institutions recognize suspicious equipment before it could be used against civilians.

Antoine was pleased to hear that the project was progressing.

He had established the initiative because he wanted something meaningful to emerge from the tragedy, and knowing that his colleagues were capable of continuing the work without him brought some satisfaction.

“Then I suppose my students are becoming independent.”

“Terrifying, isn’t it? Soon we’ll discover we don’t need a professor at all.”

“I wouldn’t celebrate too early. Someone still has to correct your reports.”

“An unfortunate weakness in our plans.”

The professor laughed before asking about Ilya’s studies.

They spent some time discussing his coursework and the projects awaiting him at Holy Trinity. Antoine offered several suggestions, and for a while, their conversation resembled the ordinary exchanges they had shared at SkyRune.

However, when Ilya asked whether the mysterious voice had returned, the professor’s mood changed.

“Several times,” Antoine admitted. “She keeps asking why I insist on enduring everything.”

“And what do you tell her?”

“Usually nothing. But I understand what she’s asking, and that bothers me.”

Antoine explained that he had spent his entire career believing difficult problems could be solved through patience and knowledge. He had taught those principles to his students and tried to live according to them, yet his efforts during the hostage crisis hadn’t saved Lucile.

Now he was cooperating with treatment while waiting for the Imperial authorities to identify the remaining conspirators. Every day seemed to demand more patience, and he was beginning to resent the feeling that everyone expected him to endure his suffering quietly.

Ilya listened without interrupting.

He understood that Antoine’s grief couldn’t be resolved through a few reassuring words. The professor had lost his daughter, and there was no argument clever enough to make that loss easier.

However, he could offer something practical.

“Professor, nobody’s asking you to be happy about any of this. You can hate those people and still let the doctors treat you. Those aren’t mutually exclusive decisions.”

Antoine considered the response.

“That sounds remarkably sensible.”

“I occasionally have moments of competence. Please don’t tell the other students.”

The professor smiled, although his expression soon became thoughtful again.

Ilya remained a little longer before departing, leaving him under the clinic’s supervision.

That evening, Antoine received a letter from SkyRune containing the initiative’s latest findings. The researchers had identified several methods of detecting dangerous modifications to ordinary magical equipment, and their recommendations were already being reviewed by the Imperial authorities.

The professor examined the report carefully.

It was good work, and he found himself genuinely proud of his colleagues. Several of the younger researchers had contributed useful observations, including ideas he might never have considered himself.

For a while, reading their findings helped ease his troubled thoughts.

Then the familiar woman’s voice returned.

“You’re proud of them.”

Antoine recognized her immediately. He remained silent, remembering Valmont’s instructions, but the woman continued speaking with the same gentle warmth he had come to recognize.

“They’re doing wonderful things because of you. Even after everything you’ve suffered, you’re still helping people you’ll never meet.”

The professor attempted to continue reading.

However, the woman soon turned the conversation toward Lucile.

“Your daughter must have been so proud of you. I imagine she wanted to become just like her father.”

Antoine remembered how confidently Lucile had once declared that she would surpass him as an inventor. She had been so certain of her future that he couldn’t help laughing whenever she described the extraordinary machines she intended to build.

The woman continued.

“She loved working with you, didn’t she? Even during those final moments, she was thinking about the little invention you promised to finish together.”

Antoine felt his mana stir.

He concentrated on suppressing the disturbance, but several documents on his desk began lifting into the air. The familiar melody from Lucile’s communication device sounded faintly through the room, although the invention itself remained secured at his residence.

“Why are you fighting so hard?” the woman asked. “You’re only remembering someone you love.”

Antoine recognized the danger. The manifestations were becoming stronger, and allowing them to continue might endanger the medical staff outside his room.

He attempted to suppress his magic again, but the floating documents remained suspended.

The melody grew clearer.

Then a faint image appeared beside the window.

A little girl wearing the uniform of Saint Aurelia Preparatory Academy sat at a worktable, carefully examining a mechanical invention. Her features were obscured by shimmering light, but Antoine recognized the familiar posture and the way she leaned forward whenever something captured her attention.

The professor knew his magic had created the image from his memories.

Nevertheless, seeing Lucile again overwhelmed him.

The woman spoke softly.

“There she is. Look how happy she is.”

The image became clearer.

Lucile appeared to be working on the little mechanical bird she had designed for his birthday. Its wings were spread across the table, and several miniature tools lay beside her.

Antoine remembered those drawings. He had found them among her belongings after the massacre, still unfinished because she had never been given the opportunity to complete the invention.

Now he could see her working on it.

The professor felt his control weakening, and the protective enchantments surrounding the room began registering the disturbance.

An alarm sounded in the corridor.

Antoine knew the medical staff would arrive shortly. If his magic continued expanding, the room’s safeguards might eventually become insufficient to contain it.

He needed to suppress the manifestation.

However, Lucile suddenly lifted her head.

“Papa?”

The voice was exactly as he remembered.

Antoine’s breath caught.

The little girl smiled.

“Come look! I think I’ve finally figured it out!”

For several seconds, the professor couldn’t move.

He understood that the figure was a manifestation of his memories. He knew Lucile had died at Saint Aurelia and that nothing he was seeing could change what had happened.

Yet the image was so convincing that his mind supplied every detail of the afternoons they had once spent together.

He wanted to answer her.

He wanted to approach the table and examine whatever ridiculous invention she had created.

The woman’s voice returned.

“Why must you keep letting her disappear?”

Antoine felt something shift deep within his magic.

The disturbance spread across the room, causing the protective enchantments to brighten as they struggled to contain the growing pressure.

The professor attempted to regain control, but Lucile was still looking at him.

“Papa? Aren’t you coming?”

The question struck him harder than anything the mysterious woman had said.

He remembered Lucile’s final moments, when she had asked whether they could finish her communication device after she returned home.

He had promised they would.

Now she was asking him to come see another invention.

Antoine wanted nothing more than to keep that promise.

However, somewhere beyond the door, he could hear the medical staff preparing to intervene.

If he allowed the manifestation to continue, other people might be hurt.

The professor remembered the young researchers at SkyRune, the medical staff who had treated him with kindness, and Ilya’s efforts to help him through the past several days.

He couldn’t endanger them for an illusion.

With considerable effort, Antoine forced himself to suppress his mana.

The little girl’s image flickered.

“Papa?”

Then she disappeared, and the floating documents fell to the floor as the pressure surrounding the room subsided.

Doctor Valmont arrived with several attendants moments later.

They found Antoine seated beside his desk, visibly exhausted but conscious. The room’s protective enchantments had contained the disturbance, and nobody outside had been injured.

However, the incident had been more severe than any previous manifestation.

Valmont examined the professor before ordering additional precautions. He also instructed the staff to maintain continuous observation until Antoine’s condition stabilized.

The professor cooperated.

He described the woman’s words, Lucile’s appearance, and the difficulty he had experienced suppressing his magic.

However, the physician noticed that Antoine seemed particularly distressed when describing the little girl’s final question.

“Professor, you understand that the image wasn’t your daughter.”

“I know.”

“Then you understand why allowing the manifestation to continue would have been dangerous.”

“Yes, Doctor. I understand.”

Valmont accepted the answer, although he remained concerned.

After completing the examination, he instructed Antoine to rest and left the room under the supervision of the medical staff.

The professor remained awake.

He had successfully suppressed the disturbance, and nobody had been injured. By every reasonable measure, he had made the correct decision.

Yet he couldn’t stop remembering Lucile’s expression as she disappeared.

He had already lost his daughter once, and now he had watched her vanish again while asking him to come closer.

Antoine eventually opened his medical notebook and began recording the incident. He described the voice, the manifestations, and the circumstances that made his control weaken.

However, when he reached the moment Lucile had spoken, he found himself unable to continue.

For several minutes, he stared at the unfinished sentence.

Then the familiar woman spoke again.

“That was cruel of them, wasn’t it?”

Antoine looked toward the empty room.

“Making you choose between your daughter and everyone else. You’ve spent your whole life putting other people first, and even now, they won’t allow you a moment of happiness.”

The professor understood that nobody had deliberately forced such a choice upon him. The medical staff had merely responded to a dangerous magical disturbance.

Nevertheless, her words stirred a resentment he had struggled to contain.

“She’s dead,” Antoine answered quietly. “I know that wasn’t her.”

“Of course you do. You’re a brilliant man, Antoine. But knowing something doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

The woman sounded almost affectionate.

“You’ve done everything they asked. You’ve been patient, obedient, and responsible. And every time you finally find a little comfort, you punish yourself for wanting it.”

Antoine’s hands tightened around the notebook.

He wanted to reject her argument, but the memory of Lucile calling for him remained painfully vivid.

Then the woman asked a question.

“Tell me, Antoine. If you could see your daughter again without putting anyone else in danger, would you still refuse?”

The professor remained silent.

He knew that the voice was offering something she had no reason to promise. He had no evidence that such a thing was possible, and his own magic had already demonstrated how dangerous the manifestations could become.

However, the question had touched something he couldn’t dismiss.

If there were a way to see Lucile again without harming anyone, what reason would he have to refuse?

The woman seemed to recognize his uncertainty.

“Then let’s find a way.”

Antoine felt a faint warmth spreading through his chest.

The room remained quiet, and the protective enchantments registered no disturbance.

However, his magic began responding to the woman’s presence again.

This time, he hadn’t been thinking about Lucile’s memories or attempting to reproduce her image.

The response had begun when he considered accepting the woman’s suggestion.

Antoine recognized the significance immediately.

The voice was no longer merely accompanying his unstable magic.

His magic was beginning to answer her.

And when the woman spoke again, her words were so gentle that they almost sounded like a promise.

“You don’t have to lose her again, Antoine. All you have to do is stop denying what your heart wants.”