Chapter 59

A magic spellbook was an item designed to interpret raw spell code and process it so that learning magic became as easy as possible. That was why, when someone tried to learn magic directly from unprocessed code, the requirements shot through the roof.

A unique-class spell... and with four cores marked on the Magic Circle, that makes it a Tier 4 spell. To learn this straight from code, I’d need at least 350 to 400 Intelligence, and my magic proficiency would probably have to be 5-star, too.

He had been a mage long enough to know what he was talking about, and his estimate was almost spot-on. According to LOST’s system, the minimum Intelligence required to interpret the spell code for Wedge of Drain was a full 400. Even Do-Jin, who had scraped together every bonus point from every source he could find, was nowhere close to reaching that.

Under normal circumstances, he should have seen a system message that went something like, “Failed to interpret spell code: insufficient Intelligence.” But The Grimoire of Truth, a relic specialized in analyzing anything related to magic that entered his body, went ahead and decoded the spell code Duke Tirund had implanted in him.

Even if the spell code was transplanted along with the eye and that somehow made it work... that was still insane.

No matter how he looked at it, The Grimoire of Truth really was broken.

Duke Tirund fixed his gaze on the blood-red wedge floating over Do-Jin’s hand as he asked, “Why are you able to use that?”

Rather than asking how it was possible, he was trying to figure out

why

. That alone showed how shaken he was.

Do-Jin paused, wondering what kind of answer would be the right one here.

After giving it some serious thought, he said, “Uh... beats me. It just kinda worked.”

The duke’s gaze sharpened even further. “You think that’s a reasonable explanation?”

“Not at all. I’m just as shocked as you are,” Do-Jin said, doing his best to sound calm while his brain went into meltdown.

Fortunately, Duke Tirund didn’t press the issue any further. If anything, he seemed even more stunned than before.

He isn’t lying. That much is certain. He’s genuinely confused. This isn’t something premeditated. He’s as blindsided as I am. Then what could explain it...?

Based on Do-Jin’s vital signs, the duke could tell that the kid wasn’t lying. He was genuinely dumbfounded. As an Archmage, the duke ran through every possibility of how the code he planted had been broken down and instantly converted into usable magic.

With his current level of circuit computation, it should’ve been impossible for him to even touch that spell code, which means he actually saw the code directly and cracked it himself...

The duke wondered if that was even possible in such a short amount of time.

That’s... no. No one could do that, not anyone still alive, anyway...

One person who came to mind had been the most extraordinary prodigy the world of magic had ever known. Not even a year into his magical studies, he had already contributed more than thirty papers to the Academy, all before his twelfth birthday. He was truly a prodigy without equal.

The one who blew the whole magic world apart by creating spellbooks that let magic code get jammed straight into Magic Circuits was none other than the Sage himself. Duke Tirund had never met the Sage in person, since he had lived and died long before the duke was even born. If there was anyone who could pull off what Do-Jin had just done, however, it had to be him.

Grasping an unknown domain this quickly and making it his own is not something that could be achieved through mere accumulation of knowledge or experience. It belongs to an entirely different realm altogether.

People who could pull that kind of thing off were instantly labeled geniuses.

Is he blessed by the Star of Magic?

The Sage may have been blessed beyond belief, but he was cursed just as heavily. He died at the age of twenty-seven. But this man, this outsider from another world, had been given a fate powerful enough to defy even death.

Was it Bella’s final arrangement?

When whispers of that had reached him from the Central Continent, the duke had scoffed. He’d thought the Empire and the Celestial See were just stirring up rumors to control the chaos after the creator goddess Bella’s power began to wane.

Perhaps it had not been mere propaganda after all.

That thought took deeper root as he continued to watch Do-Jin. With it, the look in his eyes shifted.

“Have you ever considered becoming a vampire?”

“Sorry, what?” Caught off guard, Do-Jin took a step back without realizing it. “I—sorry, what are you even talking about?”

A cold sweat trickled down his back.

“My apologies. I’ve made a poor choice of words.” The duke corrected himself without so much as a change in expression. “What I meant to ask was whether you might consider staying a little longer and learning magic from me.”

Despite his poker face, Do-Jin didn’t believe a word of it.

He absolutely meant that. He seriously tried to turn me into a fucking vampire!

Every fiber of Do-Jin’s being screamed that he needed to get the hell out of here, and fast.

Learning Carneth Tirund’s unique magic sounded amazing on paper. A chance like that certainly didn’t come around every day. But realistically, even if he stayed, it wasn’t like a new spell would just pop into his Status Window the same way again.

That last one only worked because the spell code was literally jammed into me. Anything else is gonna be a grind.

Given the enormous effort it would take to meet whatever impossible conditions were needed to unlock another skill, the whole thing was a colossal waste of time.

I’d be a hundred times better off leveling up, sweeping up hidden contents, and actually getting stronger instead of sitting around playing apprentice for months.

With that in mind, Do-Jin gave a polite but firm refusal. “I know it’s a huge honor to be offered direct instruction from you, but I can’t stay here any longer. I’ve got too much on my plate.”

For a moment, something like disappointment crossed the duke’s face. Just as quickly, it disappeared behind that iron mask again.

“I do plan to return and learn from you one day,” Do-Jin added, tossing out a quick consolation before things could get ugly.

“You intend to come back?”

“Yes. I told Karin the same thing. I’m planning to travel across the Central Continent and grow strong enough to stand on my own. And when I reach that point, I’ll come back. For me, that means heading up there.” Do-Jin pointed upward. “The surface of the Floating Continent is full of things to explore. If I want to conquer it as an adventurer, I have to return. By then, I’ll have advanced much further as a mage too, grounded enough in my own magic that learning from you won’t throw anything out of balance.”

The duke let out a soft chuckle, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was the first time he’d laughed since meeting Do-Jin.

“You have quite the ambition. Are you saying, even after being offered instruction by someone like me, an Archmage, you’re confident it won’t shake your foundation? What if I taught you my entire magical system? Your Magic Circuit, structure, even the form of your soul itself would need to change.”

“Even then,” Do-Jin said in a firm voice. “I’d still want to hold onto my own magic... and myself.”

No way am I letting anyone rip me apart and rebuild me from scratch again. I already fucked my life up doing that once. Never again.

Nodding to himself, Do-Jin buried the ugly memories rising at the back of his mind, making sure not a single crack showed on his face.

The duke let out a rare, hearty laugh. “So, in short, you’re saying you want to devour the magic of Carneth Tirund whole?”

“That’s... not exactly how I’d put it,” Do-Jin muttered awkwardly.

“I look forward to it,” the duke said. “If my guess is right, you just might pull it off.”

“Sorry, what guess?”

Rather than answering, the duke silently sized him up.

This is a man with the Sage’s brilliance, and a different kind of immortality to go with it. Yeah... this is what it takes. If he’s the first person Karin has ever opened her heart to, then that says everything.

Duke Tirund’s evaluation of Do-Jin had already risen to a considerable level. Overall, his thoughts leaned positive, although he quickly smoothed his expression to the emotionless facade he usually wore.

“Spend your last moments here with Karin. Let her see you off. From my side, I’d rather not give my daughter any more reason to resent me.”

It was basically a polite way of kicking him out.

Do-Jin gave a respectful bow and said, “I hope we’ll meet again one day.”

“I hope that ‘one day’ isn’t too far off,” Duke Tirund replied. “Both as a mage and as a father, I suspect your return would bring me no small amount of joy.”

Black mist swirled up and swallowed Do-Jin. By the time he lifted his head, Karin was standing in front of him.

***

In the middle of a deserted forest near the Marzia Viscounty on the Central Continent, Do-Jin was now saying his goodbyes to Karin. Now that the moment had actually come, she seemed overwhelmed by sorrow. Her lips were pressed tightly together, her head lowered in silence. She looked like she was trying and failing to hold back the flood of emotions.

“I thought I was ready for this,” she said in a low, almost trembling voice. “Guess I was wron—”

As she choked on the words, Do-Jin reached out and gently placed his hand over hers.

𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

“It won’t be that long until we see each other again. So until then, try not to cause any trouble and behave yourself, alright?”

Do-Jin’s teasing tone finally pulled a smile out of her. She forced away the heaviness in her chest and gave him the brightest smile she could manage. It was her last effort, as she didn’t want him to leave with a memory of her like this.

Karin took off into the air and shouted in a clearer, ringing voice, “I can’t make any promises!”

She knew that smile wouldn’t last much longer, and the moment it cracked, she wouldn’t be able to hold anything back, so she flew north as fast as she could, like she was running away. Do-Jin stood there, watching her figure fade into the night sky. It was a farewell under the full moon.

***

Do-Jin logged out for the first time in what felt like forever. Thanks to the premium capsule the company had upgraded him to, everything from sleep mode to health management had drastically improved. Despite all that, Do-Jin felt like absolute garbage.

Guess lying flat for five days straight will do that... I’d have to be some kind of freak to feel fine right now.

With a creak, Do-Jin cracked open the capsule and climbed out, only to freeze in place. His manager, Chun Ji-Hyun, was squatting right outside the capsule like some tragic monument with her face hollow and pale.

“Why the hell did it take you so long to come out?”

The dark circles under her eyes were something else. She looked like she’d been through a war.

“What happened to you?” Do-Jin asked, genuinely confused.

“What happened...?” Ji-Hyun let out a hollow laugh. “What happened, what’s happening, and what’s about to happen, take your pick. By the way, did you even bother to check your messages?”

Messages?

Do-Jin tilted his head. Then, it hit him. At some point, he’d cut off all lines of communication.

“You have no idea, Do-Jin,” Ji-Hyun muttered. “Not a clue what I’ve been dealing with the last five days. Your MeTube channel blew up like crazy the second it went live. Interview requests started flooding in from everywhere. The company kept hounding me to drag you back to real life. While all that shitstorm was going on, you were just... completely radio silent.” Ji-Hyun rambled on, listing everything she’d been buried under.

Do-Jin nodded along in silence, pretending to listen. Honestly, she looked like she needed someone to at least pretend to care.

“I kept holding on, you know... I figured, hey, he must be in the middle of something important if he’s ignoring every message I send. So I waited. Even when I was getting crushed from all sides...” As she muttered, she fidgeted with something in her hands.

Do-Jin caught a glimpse of the envelope. It had “Resignation Letter” written on it.

“Thanks, though. Thanks to you, I was able to wrap things up on my end.” Ji-Hyun stood up slowly with a weak smile tugging at her face. “Well... at least it helped. I mean, thank god you’re up. You probably don’t even realize it, but your channel’s in absolute chaos. And because of you, the whole company’s been on fire too. If I hadn’t gotten to you today, the marketing team would’ve probably waterboarded me or something.

Seriously,

I got lucky...”

She let out a sigh, like she was finally allowed to breathe again.

“Well, I’m not doing any interviews.”

Ji-Hyun’s eyes widened like she’d just taken a brick to the face. “Are you trying to kill me?! What do you mean you’re not doing them?” Her entire face collapsed in despair.

Do-Jin simply gestured toward the monitors. “I just don’t think it makes sense to do interviews right now. If I do them, it should be later. And I don’t feel like explaining it in detail. Just take a look at the gameplay footage I recorded. You’ll get it.”

He sat down and pulled up the saved footage on his PC. Skipping through the early, middle, and end sections, he showed her five minutes of each. That was all it took. Eyes fixed on the screen, Ji-Hyun reached for her phone like she was in a trance and made a call. The line barely connected before the person on the other end started screaming.

“Chun Ji-Hyun! You better be dragging him in today! This producer from the TV station practically had a fucking stroke! If we don’t lock down an interview today, they said they’re blacklisting every damn artist under our label! No questions, no discussions, bam, all of them off the table!”

Her boss screamed so loud the phone practically rattled.

Ji-Hyun, sounding completely dazed, muttered into the phone. “Yeah. You know what, I found him. I really did.”

“Wait, you met him?! Then what the hell are you doing?! Get him in here!”

“I found him,” she repeated, still sounding dazed. “But... I think you should watch this first.”

Still half out of it, she sent the video over.

From there, it got passed from one higher-up to the next, climbing the corporate ladder until, all of a sudden, Do-Jin’s interview schedules were completely canceled, along with every other pending appointment they had lined up for him. Everyone understood that they’d just gotten their hands on fuel for a fire far bigger than anything ever seen before.