Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor-Chapter 131: Theocracy [4]

Arwen Ainsley’s mind overflowed with incoherent thoughts. She knew who she was and the family she belonged to, yet everything felt hazy.

Not because she had forgotten, but as though a dense fog clouded every neural pathway in her brain.

Because of this, there were moments when that fog threatened to overwhelm her, triggering mood swings, tantrums, or sudden tears. Emotional surges that seemed to come without warning.

In simpler terms, her mind had been permanently damaged after her attempted suicide.

The damage, stemming from oxygen deprivation, was irreversible. Doctors and researchers had tried to understand similar neurological conditions but found only vague clues, which left no clear remedies or treatments.

Put another way, if even modern humanity struggled to manage mental health issues, then a world reliant on magic needed just as much study and preparation to tackle the "impossible."

Just as doctors had to grasp every aspect of a disease before treating it, magic required similar depth of knowledge before it could mend what was believed to be irreparable.

Nevertheless, this was why therapy existed.

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And it was why Arwen Ainsley had been placed in Arkhald Asylum.

"Professor...."

This person... was warm.

"...."

Though something in her chest tightened, she knew he meant her no harm. Even if she felt conflicted, her heart told her otherwise. That this person was warm.

Vanitas Astrea, who had come to visit her today.

"So this is… Arwen?"

"Yes."

Alongside him stood Charlotte Astrea.

"So that play… it really was about her?"

Vanitas exhaled lightly. "I believe parts of it were exaggerated, but yes. That play was about your brother and Arwen."

"...."

Charlotte’s gaze lingered on Arwen, her mouth parting slightly.

This person... was her brother’s lover?

She found it difficult to imagine.

A strange, uncomfortable feeling lodged itself in her throat—something unfamiliar. Something indescribable.

Her brother—the man she had feared growing up—was capable of… love?

"Don’t make that face."

"....Ah."

Realizing a frown on her face was forming on her face, Charlotte’s expression softened as Vanitas rested a firm hand on her shoulder.

"She didn’t do anything wrong."

Charlotte exhaled, pushing the foreign emotions aside. "Right…."

Then, Vanitas stepped forward.

"I’m back, Arwen."

Arwen blinked up at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You kept… your promise."

Vanitas studied her for a moment, his amethyst eyes scanning her features. She looked healthier than before, but there was still that distant look in her eyes—as if she were seeing something he couldn’t.

"How have you been?" he asked.

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Arwen tilted her head slightly, as if the question itself was strange.

"Here," she said, glancing around the walls of Arkhald Asylum. "Every day feels the same."

"...."

Charlotte observed the exchange in silence. This person—her brother’s lover—spoke as if she were half-present, like she was drifting between awareness and something unreachable.

Yet, when she looked at Vanitas, there was recognition.

Vanitas nodded slightly. "I see."

Arwen then turned to Charlotte, her gaze lingering for a moment. "You’re his sister."

Charlotte hesitated, then nodded. "Y-Yes."

"Why are you... afraid of him?"

"...."

The words were soft, yet they landed like a feather in the air. Light, yet impossible to ignore.

Charlotte stiffened. "....What?"

Arwen blinked, as if processing something far away. "You are. But... you don’t have to be."

Vanitas remained silent, watching as Charlotte struggled to form a response.

"I’m—"

Before she could finish, Arwen spoke again, her voice soft and gentle like a mother’s embrace.

"Don’t worry… Everything that happened… was for your sake."

"...."

Charlotte felt something tighten in her chest. For her sake?

She didn’t understand. How was she supposed to respond to that?

"What do you mean?" Charlotte asked.

Arwen’s lips parted, but she didn’t answer immediately. Instead, her fingers lightly curled against the thin blanket draped over her lap.

"I don’t remember everything," she admitted. "But I do know that he… your brother… always protected you."

"...."

Charlotte’s hands clenched. That brother? The one she feared? The one she had spent years avoiding?

"He hurt people," Charlotte said. "I was hurt."

Arwen looked at her, then smiled—a small, melancholic curve of her lips.

"Yes."

Her answer was simple.

But then, her gaze softened.

"But the one he’s hurt the most… was himself."

"...."

"...."

The two siblings fell silent, momentarily at a loss for words. They glanced at one another, sharing the same stunned expression.

Had Vanitas Astrea… also confided in Arwen?

Just as Arwen did to him?

If so, this girl knew far more than Vanitas had initially suspected.

"Arwen," Vanitas began quietly, "do you… remember?"

"Yes," Arwen nodded. "These days, I see things more clearly. Your eyes… they were like water."

"Water…?"

Vanitas paused, puzzled for a moment. Until the realization dawned on him.

Tears.

What she meant was tears.

Just then, a nurse entered the room, pushing a wheelchair and silently left the room afterwards.

"Shall we go for a little walk?" Vanitas asked, turning to Arwen.

Arwen managed a gentle smile. "Yes."

Carefully helping her into the chair, Vanitas guided Arwen out of the room, with Charlotte following close behind. They made their way through the corridors of Arkhald Asylum until they arrived at a small outdoor courtyard.

A pale winter light filtered through the morning sky. Arwen, bundled in warm clothes, sat quietly as Vanitas parked her wheelchair beside a flowerbed. She rested her gaze on the blooms, seemingly lost in thought.

"It’s peaceful here," Arwen said, her voice just above a whisper.

Vanitas nodded in agreement. "Yes. It is."

He glanced at Charlotte, who was lingering a few steps away, as if unsure whether to join them or not. Noticing her hesitation, Arwen lifted her head and beckoned Charlotte closer with a faint smile.

"...."

Charlotte obliged, moving nearer until she stood by the flowerbed with them. For a moment, none of them spoke.

That was until Vanitas broke the silence.

"I… don’t know everything," she admitted. "But I remember… pieces."

Vanitas remained still, waiting patiently. Despite her condition, Arwen was aware.

"Your voice… your presence… They remind me of something old," she murmured, her fingers lightly brushing the fabric of her sleeve. "Something I forgot but never truly lost."

Charlotte furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"

Arwen hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully. "There was a time… before all of this."

She looked up at Vanitas, her eyes searching his.

"Back then, I think I knew you in a way no one else did."

Vanitas exhaled quietly. "And what do you remember about me?"

Arwen’s lips parted, but before she could speak—

Woosh—

A gentle winter breeze swept through the courtyard. For a brief second, the world felt still.

Then, Arwen reached out, placing her hand over his, where it rested on the wheelchair’s handle.

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke.

"That you’ve always been suppressing something. Something that hurts you… and keeps others from being hurt."

"...."

Vanitas didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned his hand over and clasped hers.

* * *

Astrid, having just arrived in the Theocracy with her brother, Franz, stepped out of the car and made her way toward the grand estate owned by her sister, Irene.

The moment they reached the entrance, Irene was already there, waiting for them.

Her expression hardened the second she saw Franz.

"Go away," Irene said flatly, frowning.

Franz sighed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Oh, come on… little sister—"

"I believe I made myself clear." Irene said. "Only Astrid is allowed to stay here. Why are you here, Franz?"

Franz shrugged, smirking. "Calm down. I’m just here to greet you and drop Astrid off."

Irene crossed her arms. "You’ve greeted me. She’s here. Now leave."

Astrid winced, shifting uncomfortably between them. "Sister, you don’t have to be so—"

"Yes, I do."

The bluntness of her response silenced the conversation for a moment.

Franz sighed dramatically. "And here I thought you’d at least let me have tea before kicking me out."

"Not even water."

"Okay, okay. I’m going."

With that, Franz left in the car, disappearing down the road.

To an outsider, Irene’s hostility might have seemed unreasonable. But she knew better.

Reports had already come in before Franz even arrived in the Theocracy.

His personnel had swept through the Theocracy, searching for gaps in Irene’s perceptions.

In the process, two of her men were killed. And now, Franz had managed to secure a small network of his own within the Theocracy.

Then, as if a switch had flipped, Irene’s entire demeanor changed.

A bright smile spread across her face as she turned to Astrid, her tone suddenly warm and affectionate.

"I’ll show you around, Astrid~"

Astrid blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. Just moments ago, her sister had been radiating pure hostility toward Franz, and now she was doting on her like nothing had happened.

But Astrid was used to this already. Smiling back, she nodded. "Yes. Lead the way."

Irene linked arms with her and guided her inside.

* * *

——We’re losing him! Prepare another charge!

——No response. His vitals are dropping fast!

"...."

Karina felt her entire world collapse in an instant.

——Miss Maeril, you—

The nurses only noticed her presence when….

Beeeeep—

The sound of the heart monitor blared in her ears, drowning out everything else as though a dull, rhythmic hammer were pounding against her chest.

Her vision blurred, and she stumbled forward, barely registering the frantic movement around her.

Hands pushed against her shoulders, trying to guide her away, but Karina couldn’t move.

"...."

She couldn’t breathe.

"...."

Couldn’t think.

"...."

Her fingers gripped the doorframe, knuckles turning white with the force of her desperation.

This wasn’t happening.

This couldn’t be happening.

"Dad!"

The word tore from her throat, but it was drowned by the frantic voices of the medical staff.

——Clear!

A surge of magic pulsed through the air as the defibrillator was pressed against his chest.

But…. nothing.

"Again. Clear!"

Another pulse.

Yet there was no response.

Beeeeeeep—

A single, flat line.

"...."

Karina’s breath caught. The beeping had stopped.

Everything had stopped.

Her world had stopped.

One of the doctors slowly exhaled and lowered his hands. A silence heavier than anything Karina had ever known fell upon the room.

It was then.

——Time of death…. 10:42 AM.

Thud!

….Her knees gave out.

* * *

The train ride to the Theocracy was silent.

"....’

Seated side by side in the VIP passenger car, the two siblings remained in quiet contemplation, neither speaking nor acknowledging the other.

Charlotte’s mind was restless as she thought back to Arwen.

That girl… she knew things. Things about Vanitas that Charlotte herself had never known.

"...."

She glanced at him, studying his composed expression.

Maybe even more than he did.

Vanitas, as usual, was unreadable. His posture was relaxed, one arm resting against the table with his gaze idly fixed on the passing landscape beyond the window.

But Charlotte knew better.

He was thinking too.

Something about Arwen’s words had unsettled him. Just as they had unsettled her.

Growing up, Charlotte had never been physically harmed by Vanitas. He had never hurt her that way. But when it came to mental and verbal abuse, that was a different story.

That was only when she was younger, though.

"...."

As Charlotte grew older and began to understand more, Vanitas started to actively avoid her, and she, in turn, pretended to be a distant, quiet child who was fine with the cool distance between them.

Yet on certain days when Charlotte made mistakes, Vanitas would lash out as if his patience had finally snapped.

Charlotte’s grip on her coat tightened, her nails pressing against the fabric.

"Vanitas."

He didn’t look at her at first, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. "Yes?"

Charlotte hesitated before asking, "Why did you… hate me?"

Vanitas turned slowly, meeting her eyes. "What?"

"Do you know why… he hated me?"

Vanitas blinked once, then twice, as if weighing his words carefully. Finally, he replied.

"When I see people, I feel perceptions that aren’t truly mine. Senses that linger within me but don’t belong to me."

"So, my brother’s, then?"

"I believe so."

Charlotte swallowed hard. "And when you see me, what do you think?"

"Charlotte," he began gently. "This might be hard to believe, given everything that’s happened, but I don’t think he… ever hated you."

"....Is that so?" Charlotte replied, her tone laced with disbelief.

Yet, what was the truth anymore?

Despite the trauma and all the inexplicable changes, she found that keeping an open mind was easier these days.

"...."

....Even if it meant risking her sanity in the process.