Curse of Lysertis

Eleven years had passed since the magical world was shaken by the revelation that Richard Lancer had attempted to break Licertis' seal. Yet, even after all this time, many still remembered—and they refused to forget.

The city was calm. The sun bathed the streets in warm light, birds chirped, filling the air with a peaceful melody. Meanwhile, Adam was fast asleep in his room, lost in dreams. Unfortunately, someone was about to ruin his morning. A sudden crash shattered the silence.

A huge owl crashed through his window, sending glass shards flying across the room. The thunderous impact jolted Adam awake. Startled, he jumped out of bed, tripped, and faceplanted onto the floor.

Groaning, he pushed himself up—only to feel a warm drop of blood trickling from his nose. His dazed, irritated gaze landed on the culprit.

An owl. A very stubborn owl, clutching a letter in its beak. Adam snatched at it, but the owl refused to let go. And so began a battle of wills.

The owl flapped furiously, trying to take off, while Adam held on with all his strength. The bird dragged him across the room, knocking over furniture as they wrestled for control.

"You stubborn little beast! Let go, or you'll rip it!"

The owl, of course, ignored him entirely.

Adam had had enough. Raising his hand, a small flame flickered to life above his palm.

"Drop it now, or I'll roast you for dinner. No salt, no pepper."

To his surprise, the owl understood. The moment it saw fire, it instantly let go. Which sent Adam flying backward, crashing headfirst into the dresser. For a moment, he just lay there, dazed, while the owl perched itself casually on the very same dresser, preening its feathers as if nothing had happened.

"Shoo! Shoo!"

Adam waved his hands, but the bird didn't even flinch.

"What kind of bird are you?!"

With a sigh, Adam unfolded the letter and began to read.

It was from Charlotte Finnegan, the academy's potion-making professor.

"Dear Adam, how have you been? The new school year is starting soon! I've missed you so much—I just want to hug you and squeeze you forever!"

Adam groaned and slapped his forehead, the sound echoing through his small apartment.

"That old hag…" he muttered.

He continued reading:

"I've included a list of herbs and ingredients for my potion classes this year. Since you're already struggling with my subject, I figured I'd help you out by writing down a few potion recipes for the lab assignments. Study them carefully!If you don't, I'll have to punish you… by smothering you with my chest! Tee-hee!P.S. My owl is a little strange, so don't be surprised if it breaks your window. But I'm sure fixing it won't be a problem for you—with magic, of course. Good luck! See you soon!"

The moment Adam finished reading, the owl went berserk again.

It darted around the room, pecking his head repeatedly.

"Ow! Ow! You little...!"

Adam lit a flame, but before he could do anything, the owl took one look at it—and immediately flew straight out the other window.

Shattering that one too. Just like that, it was gone, disappearing as quickly as it had arrived.

Adam groaned, rubbing his temple.

"Damn bird. That's two windows now."

His eye twitched.

"If that old hag sends it again, I swear I'll roast it. That bird is just like its owner."

Adam tried to fix the window, but since he was terrible at magic, the spell simply refused to work. No matter how hard he focused, the glass wouldn't repair itself.

"AAARGH! Forget it. I'll just ask someone else to fix it."

Giving up, he headed to the kitchen—a room that perfectly reflected his personality.

Dirty dishes piled up in the sink. Plates from last night's dinner still sat on the table, untouched. And he had zero intention of cleaning any of it.

Most mages never had to worry about chores like this. There were plenty of household spells that handled cleaning, washing, and organizing effortlessly.

But Adam?

Adam refused to learn even a single one. In fact, he barely bothered learning any magic at all. He yanked open something resembling a refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of milk, and poured it into a glass already sitting on the table—the same glass he had used yesterday. Not bothering to wash it. He reached for a pack of biscuits, munching on them as he washed it all down with milk.

After finishing his meal, his eyes fell on Charlotte's letter.

"Fine. Guess I'll go buy whatever that old hag put on the list."

Throwing on some clothes, he stepped outside, making his way toward the market—the busiest place in Archoville for mages to stock up on supplies.

As he walked, he could feel it. People staring at him. And whispering behind his back.

"Mom, look! It's the demon!" A small boy pointed straight at Adam.

His mother panicked, immediately grabbing his hand and pulling him away.

"Hush, Mark! Do you want him to hear you and curse you?!" she whispered sharply, careful not to raise her voice too much.

But Adam heard every word. Still, he pretended not to notice and kept walking. Same thing. Every damn day.

"Damn it. I try not to think about it, but the older I get, the worse it becomes." He clenched his fists. "People fear me as if I'm some kind of monster."

By the time Adam reached the market, the atmosphere shifted. Just moments ago, the lively sounds of merchants and customers filled the air—but the second he stepped in, silence fell.

All eyes were on him. Adam tried to ignore them, focusing on the path ahead. But then...

"Who the hell let that bastard in here?!"

A booming voice cut through the silence. A large, drunken man stepped forward, blocking Adam's path. His bloodshot eyes glared with hatred, scanning Adam as if he were some kind of filth. Adam didn't even bother looking up.

"You little shit, you won't even look at me?! You don't belong here. Get the hell out, and don't ever come back!"

Through gritted teeth, Adam muttered, "And who does belong here? You? A disgusting drunk?"

The man's face twisted in rage. "WHAT?! How dare you, you bastard?!"

The drunk swung his fist, aiming straight for Adam's head. He didn't react in time. The punch came fast, the air whipping past his face with such force that his hair was sent flying back... But the blow never landed. Just inches from his eye, the man's fist froze in place.

Adam stepped back and saw why. His classmate, Shun Nohara, had caught the drunk's wrist mid-swing—with no effort at all. Shun said nothing. With a single sharp movement, he twisted the man's arm—SNAP.

The man let out a piercing scream, collapsing onto his back, writhing in agony. Shun barely glanced at Adam before turning on his heel and walking away. The crowd's eyes followed him, awestruck. He was a hero to them. Not just because of what had just happened, but because of who he was.

Shun Nohara. A member of one of the most powerful noble families in the world. The top student of Moro Academy. A prodigy. On top of that, he was ridiculously handsome—surrounded by hordes of admirers, both women and men alike. He was Adam's complete opposite. And yet, somehow, the two were inextricably connected.

Adam scowled. "God, he pisses me off. That stupid, smug attitude… He looks like an idiot."

He glanced down at the drunk, who was still clutching his broken arm, surrounded by concerned bystanders. Adam used the distraction to slip away, making his way toward the herbalist's shop.

Adam pushed open the shop door, and the soft chime of a bell rang out—a sound meant to signal a customer's arrival.

He walked up to the counter, but… No shopkeeper in sight.

"Hey, anyone here?"

Silence.

Adam sighed, then noticed a small bell sitting on the counter. "Might as well try."

He picked it up and gave it a ring. Immediately, Harold popped up from behind the counter. Adam nearly jumped out of his skin.

"AAAAAH! Bloody hell, Harold! Why do you always do this?!"

"Huh? I scared you? Oops. My bad."

Harold looked like someone who had just crawled out of the wilderness. Which made perfect sense—he actually had. He personally gathered every herb and ingredient he sold, spending most of his life in the forest. In fact, he used to live there permanently… Until Professor Charlotte stumbled across him. As she told it, she had been out gathering herbs when she accidentally stepped on him. Not on his arm. Not on his leg. Right on his most sensitive area. Apparently, he had been napping in the grass, and his wild appearance had made him blend in so well that she didn't see him at all—until it was too late. From pain and shock, Harold launched into the air, practically howling in agony. And that's how they met.

Feeling guilty (and probably a little amused), Charlotte helped him settle in town and even set up this shop for him.

"Why didn't you answer when I called?" Adam asked, still irritated.

"Didn't you see the sign?"

Harold pointed to a small wooden plaque beside the counter.

"Ring the bell, and I will appear."

Adam stared at him. "You could've just come out on your own. Also, you're supposed to be standing behind the counter, not hiding under it!"

"I wasn't hiding! I spent three Pulonets on that bell. THREE! It's gotta earn its keep."

Adam's eye twitched.

"Seriously? You couldn't just NOT buy it?"

"But look at it! It's gold! How could I resist? Want me to tell you where I got it—"

"Nope. That's enough. Just give me the stuff, and I'll be on my way."

Adam slammed down the list that Professor Charlotte had given him.

"Got it. This, this, and this. Give me five minutes."

Harold grabbed the list and disappeared into the back room.