"So? Have you made your decision?"
Roughly one hour before the 72-hour window Schesile had given Kuon ran out.
Schesile reappeared before Kuon, wearing his usual 'business smile'.
Kuon returned the smile with a slight narrowing of his eyes, then gave a casual nod. "Yes. I finished thinking it through after you left on the first day. But I still need your confirmation, don't I?"
"Precisely. No matter what you wish to offer, and what you wish to receive in return—none of it holds if we determine the value to be unequal." Schesile gave his answer calmly, and his explanation aligned with what Kuon had already anticipated.
In silence, Kuon once more arranged everything he intended to give up, and everything he wanted to receive in return.
What he wanted was not much in quantity—but it would clearly have an enormous impact on his path toward the goal at the heart of his ambition.
"Very well, then—shall we begin? Name the things you wish to offer, and I will assess their value. After that, you may state what you wish to purchase with the 'credit' you accumulate. Don't worry, I'll let you know if your credit falls short—or if you have any left over."
Kuon held his composed smile in place, but anyone looking at him would have inevitably noticed the mad hunger swirling behind both eyes.
Casually, Kuon raised a finger. "First—I'll be sacrificing all pigment from my hair."
The first thing he offered was likely low in value, but Kuon didn't mind. He had actually considered offering all the pigment in his body—hair, skin, and even his eyes. But the absence of pigment in his skin and eyes would significantly affect his physical condition, and Kuon had no interest in burdening himself with something so inconvenient.
So he settled for just the hair.
"A decent offer. Though the value isn't particularly high—you know that, don't you?"
Schesile tilted his head as he commented. "Is there more?"
Kuon raised another finger. "Second—all the Aether in my body. I want it converted into a purer form."
"Ohh?"
This time, Schesile's eyebrow rose with genuine interest. "You thought it through that far? Go on."
Kuon gave a small scoff before answering. "While I was watching the other Drifter use their magic, I kept thinking—what if the Aether used as fuel for casting is actually an impure, simplified form, processed so that ordinary people can use it?"
"And have you considered the risks?" Schesile asked, his smile deepening.
"Of course. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be bringing this to the exchange table. But Aether is a magical substance—unlike ordinary elements that require mixing with other compounds to reach an optimal state. That's what made me consider it: what if the purer form of Aether is something that can still be used, at least to some degree?"
Kuon had been drawn to this question for the past two days, and if he were honest, it was the most compelling concept to him out of everything.
" … Sound reasoning, and your answer is more or less correct—though I can't elaborate further. With that settled, this offer can be processed immediately: all Aether in your body will be converted into a cleaner, purer state. However, The amount of Aether you have now is no more than half of what you had at the beginning. Are you still sure you want to continue?"
"You talk too much." Kuon fixed Schesile with a displeased look. He had more or less anticipated that answer, so he didn't object.
With that, Kuon raised one more finger. "Third—my ability to use nature magic."
From Schesile's explanation and his own observations, there were two types of magic available to Drifter: nature and chemical—or specific—type.
Nature-type magic allowed its user to control natural elements already present in the environment—its advantage being ease of use and greater efficiency in broader manipulation.
Chemical-type, on the other hand—though it demanded far more time and effort in manual control—granted complete dominion over the targeted element, unconstrained by any compatibility limit.
Kuon wanted to discard his ability to use Nature-type magic because he saw little advantage in it. To him, chemical-type—with its deeper control over more specific elements—was simply the better choice.
Drifter were blessed with the ability to use both types, but Kuon chose to focus entirely on the second, even if that meant building his own foundation and theory from scratch.
" … That's quite a bold choice. May I assume you've already considered the risks?"
Just as he had expected, even Schesile appeared taken aback by his choice.
When Kuon glanced at the screen displaying his stream, he saw dozens upon hundreds of comments mirroring the same reaction Schesile was showing.
But it was far too early to be reacting like that. Kuon felt a small flicker of amusement as he watched the comment section fill with people questioning his decision.
"That reaction of yours is going to drive the price up. May I continue? I still have a few more things to sell you."
" … Go ahead."
With that confirmation, Kuon cleared his throat and raised his fourth finger. "Four—I'll be discarding my surname."
"…???"
This time, Schesile didn't even attempt to conceal his bewilderment—no, he simply couldn't.
"Wait a moment, Kuon. Are you certain about this? Even if it's only a surname, it is still one of the foundations that makes up your identity. Do you understand what happens when you sacrifice that?"
Kuon couldn't sense a trace of genuine concern in his voice or expression. Schesile wasn't asking out of worry for Kuon's wellbeing—he was asking because it was a fundamental matter that anyone needed to understand.
"Kuon Ardent-Laurel.
"Should you choose to proceed with discarding your own surname, it will not be merely a name you lose—you will also sever every connection tied to the name 'Ardent-Laurel'."
'Of course I know that.'
Kuon glanced lazily at the hourglass as it continued its steady pour. From what he could see, he likely had no more than 30 minutes left.
"Yes, I understand it perfectly well. But there's something you need to know, you rotten god who does nothing but comment—losing a surname isn't going to make me abandon any of the goals and ambitions I've been chasing. I won't allow that. So be quiet and continue the exchange."
To Kuon, his surname was nothing more than a trophy of his disgusting past—an era in which he had lacked the power to bring about the world and justice he believed in.
And that name, too—was nothing compared to what Kuon was about to sacrifice next.
"…."
Schesile furrowed his brow as he watched the swirling hunger in Kuon's eyes grow darker and more concentrated.
'This kid … he's already gone too far.'
Part of him wanted to end this without hearing another word from Kuon. But at the same time, he was eager to see what else this fool would sacrifice in pursuit of his utterly insane ambition.
Schesile couldn't begin to imagine the sheer magnitude of pleasure he would feel, stripping away everything Kuon offered as the price for the power Kuon would receive.
"Your silence I'll take as consent to continue," Kuon said, before raising the last finger on his right hand.
"Five—I'll be discarding all past connections, and every record of my existence on Earth."
"?!!"
Not just on Schesile's face—the same expression seemed to ripple across every one of his viewers, who fell into silence for a brief moment without a single comment. But that silence didn't last.
Hundreds of comments flooded in like a tsunami, questioning whether he was truly serious.
> Anon2823: "This guy has lost his mind."
> Anon2824: "Seriously, is something wrong with him?"
> Anon2825: "I could follow everything before this, but this is just too much. What are you actually going for?"
...
What was Kuon truly after, that he would so boldly cast away his own identity and every record of his existence on Earth? Every viewer was asking that question—but Kuon didn't answer. He didn't even glance their way.
" … By sacrificing your own history and records from the past, you will become someone entirely unknown to the world. Every person who knew you—without exception—will forget you. Everything you did, every contribution you made on Earth—all of it will become hollow concepts, standing without anyone left to affirm their existence. What were you thinking, to throw all of that away?"
It did sound like something irreversible. Even Kuon felt a faint heaviness in his chest at the thought of losing those connections and every trace of his existence.
But none of it mattered anymore. If he could have the chance to reach his goal, none of it was worth keeping.
From the start, Kuon had never been attached to his connections on Earth—and given his background, having grown up in an orphanage that has since closed, he was certain few people would miss him either, especially after everyone he knew and cared about was gone. As for the important records tied to his existence—his research findings and studies—Kuon remembered all of it perfectly, so he could discard those traces without losing a thing.
'But, well … I at least hope the journals, articles, and all my research will be picked up by someone competent.'
Kuon thought of his team members back at the university. If they were watching his stream right now, he was confident they would at least secure the important research before it all dissolved into hollow concepts—fading away without anyone left to remember it.
"Sacrificing all of that is the same as sacrificing your own identity. And with your surname gone as well, there is no guarantee you will remain the same person. I hope you're approaching this with wisdom."
Kuon was visibly losing patience with Schesile's relentless commentary. He clicked his tongue softly and stepped toward Schesile, fixing him with a close, level stare.
"Be quiet and put my offer on the scale. Who I am, what my purpose is, what drives my ambition—those are mine to decide. You don't need to involve yourself any further. Just continue the transaction—there's one more thing I want to offer you."
" … There's still more?"
Schesile had thought Kuon had already sacrificed more than enough—so much so that Schesile was beginning to doubt whether he would even receive the pleasure he had been promised.
Paying no mind to whatever was going through Schesile's head, Kuon stated his offer plainly:
"For the purpose of obtaining an equal price—I will sacrifice my access to the broadcast system, interaction with viewers, and rewards from special milestones."
"…."
> Anon3115: "?????"
> Anon3116: "??? Has he lost his mind???"
> Anon3117: "Hey, what the hell, are you serious???"
...
That was a completely understandable reaction.
Interaction with viewers was one of the single greatest sources of informational advantage.
Unlike Drifter, who could only see their own stream, viewers on Earth had unrestricted access to any and all streams they wished. From that vantage point, they could dig up information on other Drifter and report back to their favorites.
It was the only feature that granted Drifter an absolute edge. With this access to information, petty schemes and traps laid by other Drifter became worthless. And beyond that—information generated by a Drifter and the people around them would also reach their viewers, who could then share it with other Drifter whenever they wished.
Kuon was fully aware of this extraordinary advantage. Which was precisely why he was willing to sacrifice it.
If this feature was as powerful a weapon as it was, then its value would be enormous—perhaps even exceeding the total Kuon needed to obtain what he wanted.
After a suffocating silence, Schesile finally began to tremble from head to toe.
Not from fear or surprise—but from ecstasy, the kind that made clear he had already lost himself to the pleasure consuming him from within. Seeing that made Kuon mildly irritated, so he decided to slap him across the face once.
Because regardless, time was running short.
There wasn't much left before he would be forcibly sent into Lios—so he needed to finish this as quickly as possible.
***
"That idiot!!"
Earth. Imperial St. Solenne University, Germany.
Inside her personal lab, a young woman in a crumpled white coat—Jenna—paced in a panic, knocking stacks of documents from every corner to the floor. She didn't have time to care. She grabbed her phone, called the second contact at the top of her list, and the moment it connected she was already shouting, "Andrew! Get to Kuon's room right now and secure all his research data! I don't care how you do it, just do what I say!"
-"Calm down, I'm already on it. I've been watching his stream too."
Andrew's voice came through the phone, carefully composed, and Jenna felt a brief flash of relief. But that relief immediately gave way to irritation as she caught sight of the stream still playing on her phone.
About three days ago, Kuon had suddenly vanished from his room—without even his wallet or his phone. Strange as it was, Jenna hadn't thought too deeply about it.
It was only the following day that she realized the true scope of it.
A livestream appeared out of nowhere, broadcasting 200 people called Drifter. And among all of them, she spotted a face she knew immediately.
A young man with faded silver hair and glimmering blue eyes—wearing the white suit he always wore to seminars, complete with the monocle that never left his right eye.
There was no mistaking him. It was Kuon—the newest, and youngest, member of their research team.
Jenna was baffled, of course, but she decided to watch Kuon's stream and see what he would do while she assessed the situation.
His arrogant, antisocial nature was maddening at times, but Jenna couldn't deny his talent. Only two or three years younger than the rest of the team, he had already achieved an extraordinary amount across his chosen fields—so much that his journals and research were considered invaluable not only to the team, but to the university itself.
Which was why, when she heard what Kuon intended to sacrifice at the exchange table, fear crept instinctively through her entire body.
'Damn … I looked away for one moment, and look at him now—shipped off to another world doing something completely idiotic. What a pain.'
As Jenna gnawed anxiously at her nails, Andrew's voice came through again.
-"Hey, uh … what else should I do? Saving all of this with or without his name—we might just forget anyway."
'Of course we would….'
Jenna didn't answer. Her eyes drifted around the room in confusion. Both Jenna and Andrew understood—if they simply saved Kuon's research data as it was, there was every chance they'd still forget. Schesile himself had said it: every achievement and trace Kuon had made on Earth would become a hollow concept, slowly crumbling and fading from everyone's memory alike.
But what if those connected to Kuon could do something to redirect all traces of his legacy? Something like using initials that weren't directly tied to him….
Thinking that, Jenna's gaze finally landed on a small piece of paper filled with problem formulations she'd been jotting down before she started watching Kuon's stream—specifically on a particular line written in one of its paragraphs.
' … This is a gamble, but I hope it works.'
"Andrew—create an anagram or cipher for Kuon's name, then encode it in hexadecimal. But just to be safe … include the Professor's name and all of our team members' names too, along with a specific explanatory paragraph about Kuon. Format everything the same way, but sprinkle in some filler words to obscure the original intent. Can you do that?"
Andrew's silence told her he was thinking hard before he finally spoke again. -" … That might actually work. Alright, I'll do it. I'll also send all the digital and physical copies to the archive room. Do you want a copy as well?"
Jenna rubbed her exhausted eyes and answered faintly, "Yes, please do."
Despite the exhaustion, her eyes drifted irritably back to her phone screen.
Kuon's face looked different from what she remembered. No—his face was the same. But the sharp intensity in his eyes, filled with something dark and hungry, carried a bloodthirst that made her skin crawl.
'I really just want to rest….'
Jenna reached for her phone, ready to hurl it at the wall—but that sudden impulse collapsed under the weight of exhaustion she had been holding back for a full week. Her head throbbed at the thought of how much of the workload would now fall on her with Kuon gone from the team.
Jenna thought about how she had always found herself irritated whenever she looked at Kuon.
She hadn't liked the way he mercilessly tore into the journals she had painstakingly written. But, ironically, it was precisely that criticism that had helped her most in building a stronger foundation for her research.
On the other hand, there were small things she had grown fond of noticing about him.
The way he always forgot to eat when he sank too deep into his research. The way he pretended not to care about the world around him, yet always quietly tried his best to help everyone. The way he would adjust his monocle whenever he was thinking—and so many other small gestures Kuon made without ever realizing it.
His face that rarely smiled. His eyes that seemed to be hiding so much. His long hair that Jenna had always played with whenever she had the chance.
Jenna remembered all of it. She was even a little surprised by how often she had been paying attention to him.
Maybe it was the same feeling an older sibling had when they recognized just how extraordinary their younger one was. Annoyed and exasperated—but also deeply appreciating, and deeply worried.
Jenna reached for the framed photo she kept on her desk. Preserved behind the glass was a photo taken on the very first day Kuon joined their team.
As always, even in the photo, Kuon wore only that small, slightly cynical smile as he looked at the camera.
"Not much longer now … and your face will be gone from this photo, won't it…?"
Every person in that photo, she had come to think of as her own family—Kuon included. And if she was honest, part of her still felt like none of this was real. She wanted to believe that.
Jenna wanted to believe Kuon had simply joined some bizarre reality show and would be back soon to continue his research. But the streams from other Drifter kept breaking that comforting illusion apart.
"So this is goodbye, then…? Whatever your goal is … I hope you'll be alright."
The thought of forgetting someone she had come to think of as family made Jenna sad. But however she felt, this was Kuon's choice—and she had no right to interfere.
Whatever Kuon had chosen, whatever he had sacrificed—all of it was necessary to reach the goal and ambition that drove him; a hunger she had always seen in his eyes, but never quite managed to name.
She felt hollow watching the exchange between Kuon and Schesile grow more intense—but there was nothing left she could do.
All Jenna could do was preserve the traces of the presence and identity Kuon had once held in this place. Only that.