Chapter 114: Truth Beneath Still Waters
The next day.
Morning classes passed without incident.
No one suspected a thing—not the professors droning on about history or alchemy, not the students whispering about weekend plans, and certainly not Aeron, who spent most of lunch being force-fed heart-shaped desserts by Emilia and Livia.
I chewed my own sandwiches, watching the spectacle with amusement.
Normalcy is... nice.
After yesterday’s cosmic massage in Virion’s domain, my body felt brand new—no lingering aches, no poison fatigue, just the faintest twinge in my ribs when I twisted too fast. A small price to pay for surviving an assassin.
But normalcy could only last so long.
I had questions. And the library held answers.
So, after lunch, I headed straight for the library. If there was any truth to be wrung from Vex, I needed to hear it—no matter how small, no matter how ugly they would be.
Better than being left in the dark.
My only worry? How to make Vex talk.
Then I remembered who’d taken him.
A chuckle escaped me. If that guy gets even one of Virion’s "teachings"—be it cosmic beatings or turtle-style torture—he’ll be begging to spill his guts.
But more than that, I’d been turning over what I should say.
How much do I reveal?
The System was off-limits—no explaining that. But the rest? The gaps in my memories, the things I shouldn’t know but did...
Urgh... Should I just say I have amnesia?
It was the simplest lie and also the truth. The kind that invited pity instead of suspicion.
Well... no use overthinking it. I exhaled. Just go with the flow.
The library doors swung open before me. Inside, the scent of parchment and ink wrapped around me like an old friend.
Luna stood at her usual post behind the counter. She glanced up, her eyes flicking over me with their usual curiosity, then offered a nod.
I returned it and moved past her, weaving through the shelves until I found Virion.
The serpent was curled around a stack of books, his emerald scales glinting in the light as he flipped a page with his tail. For a primordial being who thrived on chaos, he looked oddly... scholarly.
Then again, his first favorite hobby was my suffering. Reading was a distant second.
He didn’t look up as I approached. "You’re late."
I replied innocently. "Class ran long."
"Excuses." His tail flicked, sending a book floating back to its shelf. "But fine. Come. We have things to discuss."
Oh, he looks a bit serious today, doesn’t he?
I thought, entering the portal before me.
It spat me on a sheer cliff overlooking a tranquil lake, its surface mirror-smooth beneath the twilight sky. Virion floated casually in midair, a fishing rod held in his tail as he gestured to a second rod hovering beside him.
Really? Fishing now?
But the serene atmosphere did seem like a good place for difficult conversations.
I took the offered rod and settled cross-legged beside him—or rather, on empty air, just like Virion. The height should have been dizzying, but some primordial magic kept me anchored.
For a long moment, we simply sat in silence, our lines vanishing into the still waters below.
Damn, it got away!
Then Virion spoke, his voice unusually measured. "Listen, boy. I know you have questions—many of them. And I’ll answer what I can." His tail flicked, adjusting the fishing line. "But some truths must wait. The answers you get today will be... limited."
I exhaled through my nose. "Understood."
He probably meant for my own good.
"Good." He nodded. "We’ll start with the assassins, then. Ask what you want."
I hesitated, then bowed my head slightly. "About that... thank you, Master. I know it was you who saved me—who’s been protecting me—all this time." My grip tightened on the fishing rod. "I won’t forget that. And one day, I’ll repay you."
Virion’s emerald eyes gleamed with something I couldn’t quite decipher. "Hmph. I really wasn’t mistaken about you, boy." He smirked. "Now, ask."
The permission hung between us, simple and heavy.
I took a breath.
"Do you know who sent the assassins?" I asked, watching the still surface of the lake below us. "And why they’re targeting me? I don’t think I did something enough to end up like this."
Virion’s fishing rod twitched, sending ripples across the water. After a long pause, he answered.
"...I don’t know the full truth," he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "But here’s what I do know."
A flick of his tail, and the fishing line tightened. "The assassins belong to an organization called Black Star. They are ruthless, efficient—but ultimately, they are just hired blades. They’re not the real enemy."
I digested that.
A powerful assassination organization. One with enough reach to track me down despite my background character status. But in a sense, it is usually easy to get info on background characters, since their data won’t have any security or ’protectors’.
"The real culprit is the one who hired them," Virion continued, "They are someone far more dangerous. Their identity is hidden carefully—even that guy didn’t know who they were, only that they wanted you dead for reasons they didn’t share."
Well, who would care about a background character’s life?
They probably accepted the job thinking they would strike it rich after getting rid of me.
He reeled in his line with a sharp tug, revealing an empty hook. "And they will keep sending killers. Or, if they grow impatient enough, they might come themselves."
A cold weight settled in my gut.
A powerful, mysterious enemy wants me dead. How could I not be scared?
Virion snorted. "But don’t worry. They won’t stoop so low—not yet. And even if they do..." His emerald scales shimmered as he smirked. "Your master here can handle them. I may look like some old-timer handsome dragon, but I’m stronger than you can imagine."
I nodded.
I know.
Because you’re a primordial being.
Outwardly, I just said, "I believe you, Master."
Virion chuckled, satisfied, before casting his line again. "As for why they want you dead..." His voice turned thoughtful. "That, I’m not certain. But I can tell you this—you’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing worthy of being hunted like this. Which means..."
A pause. Then, almost gently—"It’s probably not about you, not directly."
Oh!
So I wasn’t some wannabe villain or trash in my past life.
Thank goodness.
But...
If this wasn’t about me... then whose story have I stumbled into?