The white light from the ceiling lamps still illuminated the old room coldly, as if time itself had stopped among the swirling dust motes. The air felt heavy, filled with unspoken anticipation. In the middle of the dusty rows of desks and benches, three small figures sat in a loose triangular formation—Kyoichiiro with his back straight and hands in his lap, Aetheria to his right with her arms still folded but her expression beginning to soften, and Amura before them, leaning forward with his fingers clasped tightly between his knees.
Silence hung thickly, broken only by the soft hum of the magical lamps that might one day go out. Amura took a deep breath—not an ordinary breath, but the kind drawn by someone about to release a burden he had carried alone for years.
Then he began.
Amura: (His voice low, no longer cheerful or strange, but serious like someone tired of pretending) "So..."
He paused for a moment. His eyes, usually so hard to read, now stared straight at Kyoichiiro—without a smile, without a mask.
Amura: "Kyoichiiro-san... did you ever think there was something strange about me when we first met?"
The question floated in the air. Not provocative or accusatory, just a bridge toward something deeper. Kyoichiiro wasn't surprised—he had expected something like this. But his expression remained flat, like a lake undisturbed by the wind.
Kyoichiiro: (Flat, yet with sharpness beneath) "What do you mean?"
Aetheria, sitting beside Kyoichiiro, could only glance left and right alternately, her eyes blinking in confusion as she watched the intense exchange between the two boys before her. She didn't understand what was happening, but she could feel that this was important.
Amura smiled. Not his usual sweet or strange smile, but a warm one—the smile of someone who had finally decided to open up.
Amura: "You've never truly trusted anyone, have you? I always thought so. From the way you move, the way you observe, the way you keep your distance... like you're always ready to lose."
Kyoichiiro didn't deny it. He just listened.
Amura: (Continuing, his voice trembling slightly at the edges) "That's why... maybe I want to say it now. I've been holding this in for too long. Years. Maybe... longer than you think."
Kyoichiiro's usually stone-like expression finally shifted a little. His eyebrows drew together, his lips pursed thinly. He stood up.
Kyoichiiro: (A hint of irritation, his eyes sharply looking down at Amura) "Hah?"
He let the word hang for a moment, then continued with a firmer voice.
Kyoichiiro: "What have you been going on about? Just meaningless rambling. If you have a secret you want to share, say it directly. Don't waste my time with riddles."
After saying that, he let out a rough sigh and sat back down on his bench, his back still straight, his hands returning to rest on his lap. Amura raised both hands—palms open, fingers slightly splayed—a natural gesture indicating submission and apology without having to say "sorry" over and over.
Amura: (Smiling faintly, his tone more relaxed but not abandoning seriousness) "Alright, alright. I apologize. I'll get straight to the point."
He took another breath. A breath that sounded like a release.
Amura: "You want to know anything about this world, don't you, Kyoichiiro-san? I can help you. Because I... am just like you."
Kyoichiiro stared at him without blinking. His jaw tightened slightly.
Kyoichiiro: (Flat tone, but with a hiss of impatience beneath) "You always repeat yourself. Just say it—what do you mean by comparing yourself to me? What do we have in common?"
Amura didn't rush. He slowly raised his right hand, palm facing down, then moved it back and forth as if calming waves—a natural gesture saying "calm down, I'll explain."
Amura: "Please calm down for a moment, Kyoichiiro-san. I'm not finished."
He looked at Kyoichiiro with honest eyes—for the first time, without a mask.
Amura: "I developed my own theory. That ten years from now, someone would appear and make me feel... interested. Challenged." His face hardened slightly, becoming serious. "So I wanted to try. To find that person. And yes—I am a reincarnated person."
He smiled again. This time a strange smile—somewhere between relieved and anxious.
Amura: "I always thought you were the same, Kyoichiiro-san. But that might just be my theory."
Kyoichiiro stood up again. His movement was fast, the wooden chair behind him scraping slightly with a rough sound.
Kyoichiiro: (His voice rising a little, not quite shouting but full of pressure) "Hah? What did you say?"
His eyes widened—just for a moment—before narrowing again, examining, analyzing Amura's face from closer range. Amura didn't back away.
Amura: (Smiling, staying where he was) "Yes, it's true. I've always been curious about your ambition, Kyoichiiro-san. Your desire to learn interesting things about this world. The way you speak, the way you look at everything as if seeing it for the first time... like you're a newcomer trying to answer unanswered questions."
Kyoichiiro fell silent. He didn't sit back down immediately. Inside his head, thoughts swirled like grinding gears.
A reincarnator? he thought, his eyes not leaving Amura. He theorizes that I'm also a reincarnator? How did he reach that conclusion? But... yes. I've felt it since the beginning. Something strange about this kid. Not just his attitude—but his movements, his word choices, the way he sees the world... none of it reflects someone his age. Is that what he means?
He took a long breath, exhaled slowly, then sat back down. This time his body was slightly more relaxed, though his gaze remained razor-sharp.
Kyoichiiro: (Flat, but with curiosity simmering beneath the surface) "Alright. Continue."
Amura nodded. He clenched his fists in his lap, then released them. A small gesture showing suppressed anxiety.
Amura: (His voice becoming heavier, deeper) "I've repeated the same things over and over. Constantly. Wasting my time on nothing." He smiled bitterly. "I lived a long time before reincarnating—still in the same world, yes. Not a different world. Just... a different time."
He paused, swallowing.
Amura: "I was always lonely. Isolated. Because whenever I got involved with others..." He bit his lower lip for a moment. "I might not be able to forgive myself again. I've seen too much. Friends, comrades... all killed. But why am I always the one who survives?" His voice trembled. "Just remembering it makes me sick."
His expression changed. Not dramatically sad, but deeply sad—like water in an old well never touched by sunlight. Gloomy. Empty. The Amura who usually smiled and joked, who loved to tease and laugh, now looked fragile.
Kyoichiiro observed the change carefully. His light blue eyes moved quickly, noting every detail: the way Amura bit his lip, the way his fingers curled tightly, the way his shoulders dropped slightly.
Kyoichiiro: (Flat tone but not cold—there was attention in it) "Wait. There's something strange about your behavior. Your personality keeps shifting. One moment you seem friendly, then you turn serious, and now... sad." He leaned forward slightly. "What have you been holding in all this time? Just say it. I'll listen."
Aetheria, who had been silent all along, now also looked at Amura with concerned eyes. Her previously folded hands dropped to her lap, her fingers fidgeting restlessly.
Amura took a deep breath. Then he began to tell his story.
Amura: (His voice like wind whispering among old rocks) "Three hundred years ago... I was a king feared by many nations."
The words came out calmly, but their impact was like a stone dropped into a still pond.
Amura: "I was known to be cruel. I didn't hesitate to kill anyone I suspected. Terror came from all directions—monsters, demons, humans. They all wanted to hunt me." He smiled faintly, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "But unfortunately, they were just weak creatures spouting nonsense. I cut, I sliced, I obliterated anyone who challenged me. That's why I was feared."
He stopped, swallowing again.
Amura: "Finding even a single friend felt impossible. Even the Demon King one day challenged me. I didn't know what his intention was—maybe he just wanted to pass the time. I asked him, 'What do you want?'"
Demon King's voice (in Amura's style): (A calm, almost bored tone) "Nothing. I just want to spend some time. So I want to hunt anyone who can interest me."
Amura: (Returning to his narration) "He ran away after I beat him to a pulp. I severed his hands and legs—he wouldn't be able to regenerate. But he escaped."
Kyoichiiro didn't interrupt. He just listened, his eyes unblinking, his brain recording every word.
Amura: (His voice changing, becoming softer but more bitter) "Then... when I was sixteen, almost seventeen, I was ordered to go to war. To seize territory. My family wanted me to be 'the best' in their eyes. I only lived with my mother. My father... I don't know where he is. Maybe he doesn't care. Never wanted to see me."
He sighed. His chest rose and fell.
Amura: "On the battlefield, I found someone. An adult man, lying there with a sword wound in his stomach. Blood pooling around him. For some reason... I carried him to a safe place. We hid near some trees. Escaped from the battlefield for a while, went into the forest."
Aetheria edged slightly closer to Kyoichiiro, as if the story was starting to make her uncomfortable.
Amura: (Smiling faintly at the memory) "I rested there. I was about to eat my packed meal. Then I saw that man sitting under a tree, holding his stomach, looking hungry. I took the initiative to approach. 'Why are you sitting there? Come join me,' I said. But he only answered, 'No need.'"
Amura laughed quietly. A bitter laugh.
Amura: "I offered him my food. 'You must be hungry, right? This is for you.' But he refused. 'No, no, thank you,' he said with a small laugh. 'I'll find something to eat soon. I just want to relax here for a while and look at the stars.'"
Amura lifted his head, staring at the ceiling as if there were invisible stars up there.
Amura: "He looked up. I looked up too. Silent. Just the sound of crickets and the night breeze."
Suddenly, his voice changed.
Amura: "Then—an explosion. From the south."
He turned toward the south reflexively, even though only a wall met his gaze.
Amura: "I said, 'I'll go check it out first, in case something dangerous is there.' I took my leave. 'Please take care of yourself.' The man only smiled softly and said, 'Yes. Thank you.'"
Amura stopped. His clasped hands in his lap began to tremble.
Amura: (His voice breaking, almost a whisper) "After checking—it turned out to be just goblins playing around—I returned to that spot. I was about to say... 'It's only goblins playing over the—'"
He couldn't finish his sentence. His breath caught.
Amura: (In a shattered voice) "The man was already dead. His head severed. His eyes fallen from their sockets. Blood everywhere. His body and legs also severed. His internal organs... all spilled out."
Amura's fingers gripped the fabric of his pants tightly.
Amura: (Barely audible) "I just stood there frozen. My eyes wide. My teeth grinding. I held back the urge to vomit. But eventually... I threw up. Collapsed on the ground. Clutching the dirt beneath me. Terrified."
Silence.
A suffocating silence.
Aetheria covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes glistening. Kyoichiiro... Kyoichiiro just sat quietly. His face didn't change, but behind his light blue eyes, something moved—something he couldn't name.
Amura lifted his head. His expression returned to its usual state—or at least tried to. A faint smile, but his eyes were empty.
Amura: (Trying to sound cheerful but failing) "So... that's it."
Kyoichiiro didn't answer immediately. He glanced toward Aetheria, blinking once—a subtle signal asking what do you think? Aetheria, her eyes still wet, only shook her head slowly. She didn't know what to say.
Kyoichiiro looked back at Amura.
Kyoichiiro: (Flat tone, but with something beneath it—not skepticism, not mockery, just... very deep curiosity) "You mean... you've lived for three hundred years? Before reincarnating?"
Amura: (Smiling, this time more genuinely) "No. More precisely... I've lived for over six hundred years. Maybe six hundred fifty. I've lost count."
Kyoichiiro sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the information sink in. Inside his head, the gears of logic spun.
Six hundred years... I suppose it's normal for this isekai world, full of fantasy and illogical things. But... why is he telling all this to people he barely knows? Aetheria and I are strangers here. He seems to think it's perfectly normal to share something like this. That's... strange. Very strange. He accepts others so easily. Or maybe—he's been so terribly lonely?
Kyoichiiro opened his eyes.
Kyoichiiro: (Staring straight into Amura's eyes) "Are you serious? About what you just told me?"
Amura: (Smiling helplessly, his shoulders lifting slightly) "Yes. I wouldn't look this pathetic if I were lying, would I?"
Kyoichiiro looked at him for a long time. Then he nodded slowly. A nod that wasn't easy—full of consideration, of calculation.
Kyoichiiro: "Alright. If you say so..."
He paused. His gaze shifted to the side, toward Aetheria, then back to Amura.
Kyoichiiro: (His voice firmer, more resolute) "...there's something I want to talk about too."
In that hidden old classroom, under the cold, eternal light of the magical lamps, the boundaries between secrets and trust began to blur. One secret had been revealed. And now, it was Kyoichiiro's turn to speak. The question lingering in the air was no longer "can Amura be trusted?" but rather "is Kyoichiiro finally willing to trust someone?"
And in the corner of the room, dust motes still swirled, silent witnesses to the meeting of three souls each carrying their own burdens—one with wounds six centuries old, one with memories of another life, and one still searching for her identity amid all the chaos.