Chapter 4 · So, My Mentor Was Flirting With Me?

I had lost. Completely. Utterly.

Damn it.

"Let's get you up," I said.

I grabbed his arm to help him stand. The moment he was halfway up, he stumbled again and fell straight into my arms.

I froze.

He really was something else.

I knew exactly what this was. I knew it was a calculated move.

And yet, I still caught him. Because this was the man who had visited me every day for five hundred years. Who talked to me. Took care of me. Made sure I wasn't forgotten.

He mattered. Second only to the Archmage.

"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. "Could you… let go of me?"

His voice wavered. His lips pressed together, then relaxed. His eyes were glossy, his face even redder.

All that earlier composure was gone.

Yet when he looked at me, he didn't look away.

Not only that. He kept looking.

He subtly closed the distance between us, and when he smiled, his gaze was soft and sweet as honey.

Something inside me wavered. Something softened.

I quickly glanced away, feeling a bit self-conscious as I let go of my hand around his waist.

For some reason, just for a split second, another face flashed through my mind, someone who smiled just as sweetly. My junior, Ryan Lockwood.

Damn it. Why was I even thinking about him?

Though, to be fair, dealing with all those ridiculous comments online had forced me to toughen up over the years. I told myself I was calmer, more open-minded.

But whenever I thought about the way he stabbed me in the back... well, it felt like trying to swallow a fishbone that refuses to go down.

Sometimes, it was not the betrayal itself that matters most. It was why they did it in the first place.

And yet, after five hundred years, he had never come to see me, never explained himself. Not once.

They say that after that incident, he left the academy, wandered off into the world. Resentful. Disappointed. Bitter.

And who exactly had he been disappointed in? Well, that much was obvious.

Even now, I still didn't understand.

ack then, when I first confessed my feelings for Noah, he didn't get angry. No, instead, he sneered and told me my taste was terrible, that I had fallen for some old man.

But then, later on, he totally switched up on me.

Men. They were all like that, aren't they? A walking mood swing.

The bullet comments got it right. A man's heart was impossible to find, and completely unreliable. Never trust anything a man says, because he might flip on you any second.

Hell, they couldn't even relate to their own past selves.

Ryan? Definitely one of those guys.

"What the hell are you two doing?" The shout was sharp, furious, almost resentful.

Elliot jumped, startled, and stumbled a little.

I got it.

I caught him around the waist to steady him.

Footsteps were coming from the entrance of the cave. Senior Brother noticed first.

"Ryan? You're back?" Elliot asked.

I froze.

[Uh-oh. Looks like we're about to enter a battlefield. Wait a minute, is that Ryan? No one told me this red-clad, white-haired kid was... this ridiculously pretty.]

[Red robes, gold embroidery. Rich-boy vibes. Looks like a begonia fresh after the spring rain. I kinda want to slap him, then make him cry in my arms.]

[Tone it down, folks. This is a comment section, not a brothel.]

[Wait, hold up. Is that the same set of robes the heroine gave him five hundred years ago on his birthday? The ones she personally made?]

The comments were going off the rails as usual.

I let go of Elliot's waist and turned to face the boy coming our way.

It was the same set of sixth-grade magic robes I had made for him back then.

The bright red, full of youth and life—exactly what I had once hoped he would become.

When he was a child, he loved that robe.

But his past had been tough. Ryan had rescued him from a village slaughtered by demons, and I had always been a little more protective of him because of that.

But as time passed, he grew up. He formed his own opinions, his own tastes. The red he had once loved was replaced by somber black robes.

I respected that, of course.

When he had rejected the red robe, saying he hated that color, I had never made him another one.

I couldn't be sure that if I gave him a black one, he wouldn't hate that too.

Looking at him now, I had to admit I was right.

He didn't like black anymore either.

My thoughts tangled up in a mess, and for the first time in a long while, I didn't know what to say.

Something happened when you got older. Once, we were inseparable, sharing everything. Now, here we were, staring at each other, and all that was left was silence.

"Why are you staring at me like that, Rebecca?" His voice finally broke the quiet. "Don't you have anything you want to ask me?"

Chapter 4

I had lost. Completely. Utterly.

Damn it.

"Let's get you up," I said.

I grabbed his arm to help him stand. The moment he was halfway up, he stumbled again and fell straight into my arms.

I froze.

He really was something else.

I knew exactly what this was. I knew it was a calculated move.

And yet, I still caught him. Because this was the man who had visited me every day for five hundred years. Who talked to me. Took care of me. Made sure I wasn't forgotten.

He mattered. Second only to the Archmage.

"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. "Could you… let go of me?"

His voice wavered. His lips pressed together, then relaxed. His eyes were glossy, his face even redder.

All that earlier composure was gone.

Yet when he looked at me, he didn't look away.

Not only that. He kept looking.

He subtly closed the distance between us, and when he smiled, his gaze was soft and sweet as honey.

Something inside me wavered. Something softened.

I quickly glanced away, feeling a bit self-conscious as I let go of my hand around his waist.

For some reason, just for a split second, another face flashed through my mind, someone who smiled just as sweetly. My junior, Ryan Lockwood.

Damn it. Why was I even thinking about him?

Though, to be fair, dealing with all those ridiculous comments online had forced me to toughen up over the years. I told myself I was calmer, more open-minded.

But whenever I thought about the way he stabbed me in the back... well, it felt like trying to swallow a fishbone that refuses to go down.

Sometimes, it was not the betrayal itself that matters most. It was why they did it in the first place.

And yet, after five hundred years, he had never come to see me, never explained himself. Not once.

They say that after that incident, he left the academy, wandered off into the world. Resentful. Disappointed. Bitter.

And who exactly had he been disappointed in? Well, that much was obvious.

Even now, I still didn't understand.

ack then, when I first confessed my feelings for Noah, he didn't get angry. No, instead, he sneered and told me my taste was terrible, that I had fallen for some old man.

But then, later on, he totally switched up on me.

Men. They were all like that, aren't they? A walking mood swing.

The bullet comments got it right. A man's heart was impossible to find, and completely unreliable. Never trust anything a man says, because he might flip on you any second.

Hell, they couldn't even relate to their own past selves.

Ryan? Definitely one of those guys.

"What the hell are you two doing?" The shout was sharp, furious, almost resentful.

Elliot jumped, startled, and stumbled a little.

I got it.

I caught him around the waist to steady him.

Footsteps were coming from the entrance of the cave. Senior Brother noticed first.

"Ryan? You're back?" Elliot asked.

I froze.

[Uh-oh. Looks like we're about to enter a battlefield. Wait a minute, is that Ryan? No one told me this red-clad, white-haired kid was... this ridiculously pretty.]

[Red robes, gold embroidery. Rich-boy vibes. Looks like a begonia fresh after the spring rain. I kinda want to slap him, then make him cry in my arms.]

[Tone it down, folks. This is a comment section, not a brothel.]

[Wait, hold up. Is that the same set of robes the heroine gave him five hundred years ago on his birthday? The ones she personally made?]

The comments were going off the rails as usual.

I let go of Elliot's waist and turned to face the boy coming our way.

It was the same set of sixth-grade magic robes I had made for him back then.

The bright red, full of youth and life—exactly what I had once hoped he would become.

When he was a child, he loved that robe.

But his past had been tough. Ryan had rescued him from a village slaughtered by demons, and I had always been a little more protective of him because of that.

But as time passed, he grew up. He formed his own opinions, his own tastes. The red he had once loved was replaced by somber black robes.

I respected that, of course.

When he had rejected the red robe, saying he hated that color, I had never made him another one.

I couldn't be sure that if I gave him a black one, he wouldn't hate that too.

Looking at him now, I had to admit I was right.

He didn't like black anymore either.

My thoughts tangled up in a mess, and for the first time in a long while, I didn't know what to say.

Something happened when you got older. Once, we were inseparable, sharing everything. Now, here we were, staring at each other, and all that was left was silence.

"Why are you staring at me like that, Rebecca?" His voice finally broke the quiet. "Don't you have anything you want to ask me?"