The next morning, Ethan woke to the faint tug of bandages being unraveled from around his head.

  Blinking groggily, he lifted his good hand slightly and found Professor Alric standing beside him, fussing with the final yers.

  "You woke up? Good," Alric grunted without looking at him. "Try opening your eyes."

  Still dazed, Ethan obeyed. His right eye fluttered open—and immediately, the world came into blurry focus. But his left eye… nothing. Just darkness.

  Professor Alric clicked his tongue loudly. "Tch! It seems this is a failure as well!"

  "Professor?" Ethan rasped, anxiety tightening his chest.

  "That's why regenerating eyes are such a goddamn pain in the ass!" Alric barked, stepping back slightly to fold his arms in irritation. "Either you build it from zero—which is costly, slow, and a royal headache—or you try a transpnt, which is literally gambling. Even the most compatible eye can be rejected!"

  He jabbed a finger toward Ethan’s head, scowling fiercely.

  "So... it failed?" Ethan asked, throat dry.

  "Yes, it failed." Alric waved a hand impatiently. "Now, should I take it out right away, or do you want to be sedated first?"

  Ethan stared at him, completely confused.

  What kind of question is that!?

  Before he could even form an answer, Alric snapped his gloves tighter and said, "Fine! We’re taking it out now!"

  "W-Wait! No! Ahhhhhh!" Ethan yelped, flinching back instinctively.

  Alric raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "What are you screaming for? Did you feel anything?"

  "N-No, I... I just... panicked," Ethan mumbled, heat crawling up his neck in embarrassment.

  "Hmph! Every single one of you," Alric muttered with a grunt, shaking his head. "Each one more cowardly than the st!"

  With a quick, practiced sweep of his hand, Alric plucked the non-functional eyeball free. Ethan squeezed his fists but felt nothing—not even a sting. Alric held the dead eyeball up, inspecting it critically.

  "Done!" he decred briskly, tossing it into a discard tray with a soft plop. "Now, let’s choose another one."

  He turned toward a tall gss cabinet nearby, where several gss containers floated eerie-looking eyes suspended in clear solutions.

  Ethan craned his neck slightly, stomach twisting at the sight.

  Alric muttered darkly to himself while inspecting the options. "Damn it... That was my best eyeball. And these others... none of them look compatible to you."

  "Is that so?" Ethan asked nervously, hoping against hope for some good news.

  "That is so!" Alric snapped, gring over his shoulder. "And it’s all thanks to your cursed body! It’s riddled with Miasma—makes it reject anything that isn’t heavily compatible with that filthy stuff!"

  He grabbed one jar, studied it for a moment, and smmed it back down. "Gods above! Aren't you cursed enough already!? Well, I guess you are..." he grumbled.

  "Is there anything we can do?" Ethan asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

  "Shut up, boy, I'm thinking..." Alric said, rubbing his temples.

  A heavy, uncomfortable silence filled the room.

  "..."

  "..."

  "..."

  Suddenly, Alric’s head snapped up, his eyes gleaming with mad inspiration. "That’s it!"

  Ethan flinched.

  "If human eyes are impossible..." Alric said, practically cackling now, "then I’ll just use demon eyes instead!"

  "P-Professor!?" Ethan stammered, pushing himself half upright in the bed. "Is that even safe!?"

  "Of course it isn't!" Alric barked, as if Ethan had asked whether water was wet. "But I'll be observing you closely! If you feel anything wrong—"

  "If I feel anything wrong?" Ethan repeated, dread sinking into his gut.

  "We take it out again!" Alric finished with a grin far too wide for Ethan’s comfort.

  The casual way he said it sent a cold shiver down Ethan’s spine.

  As Professor Alric rummaged through his collection of eerie floating eyeballs, Ethan, feeling increasingly uneasy, couldn't help but ask, "Professor... aren't demons supposed to be extinct?"

  Alric froze for a heartbeat, one hand hovering over a jar. Then he turned his head slightly, giving Ethan a long, unimpressed look. "Boy, you have a head on your shoulders," he said dryly. "Your brain shouldn’t be damaged. How come you can't think properly?"

  "Sorry," Ethan muttered, shrinking a little under the stare.

  Alric straightened, dusting off his hands as if disappointed by the mere existence of the question. "Think about it. It's said that all necromancers were wiped out, right? Yet here you are—learning Dark Magic right in the infirmary of the second-best Academy in the country." He tapped the side of his head pointedly. "So what makes you think demons have ceased to exist?"

  "I—That's—" Ethan stammered, grasping for words and failing miserably.

  Alric narrowed his eyes. "Already forgotten, have you? How cautious I was of you when we first met? Took your blood sample just to make sure you were human?"

  He couldn’t argue. He had forgotten.

  "So," Alric said, voice sharp, "any other obvious questions you want to waste my time with?"

  Ethan hesitated—then blurted, "But... didn't we win the Demon King War? How can they still be alive!?"

  Alric let out a long, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If someone kills the king right now," he said slowly, as if expining to a very small child, "are you going to drop dead from shame?"

  "I—I mean—"

  "Exactly. Demons won’t either!" Alric snapped. "The king falls, but the people don't vanish into smoke! Enough with these dumb questions."

  He turned back to the jars with a grunt. After a few tense seconds of sorting, he gave a sharp nod. "Found it!"

  He lifted a gss jar carefully, the liquid inside swirling around a perfectly preserved eye that gleamed with a faint, unnatural light. "A perfect half-demon's eye," he decred proudly. "Came from a half-demon I killed twenty years ago."

  "Twenty years ago!?" Ethan excimed, recoiling slightly. "Isn't it spoiled by now?"

  Alric scoffed. "No. Demon parts don't rot like human ones. They live longer. Their body parts are durable, trustworthy. If anything, this is in excellent condition."

  Ethan stared at the floating eye, stomach twisting. "Are we... really doing this?" he asked, voice dry.

  "Of course we are!" Alric barked, practically insulted by the question. "Or..." He paused meaningfully, eyes glinting. "Are you willing to cough up twenty golden coins to custom-make a brand new eye from scratch?"

  Ethan’s blood drained from his face at the mention of twenty gold coins. He stiffened, then quickly shook his head. "I’ll happily accept the demon’s eye!" he said, sitting up straighter.

  "Thought so," Alric said smugly, already preparing his tools.

  "So, what are the differences between humans and demons?" Ethan asked as he y still, watching Professor Alric prepare the procedure. Since he was about to gain a demon eye, he thought it would be better to know as much as possible about the people the world had beled enemies.

  "Nothing much," Alric answered in a disinterested tone, barely gncing at him as he worked. "They're more compatible with Miasma, their bodies have more variation than ours. Some have horns, others have wings, tails, a few have all of them."

  "Hmm..." Ethan hummed thoughtfully, processing the information.

  "But aside from that, they’re particurly simir to us," Alric continued, tapping one of the jars absently. "If you hurt them, they bleed red blood. Their heart might sit a little more toward the center, but it's mostly the same. They build families like us, mate like us. And the ultimate proof we’re not that different—" he paused for effect, "—we can even have kids with them."

  If Ethan had been drinking something, he would have choked on it right then and there.

  "Half-demons, on the other hand," Alric said with a grimace, "are sad creatures."

  "Why so?" Ethan asked, genuinely curious now.

  "By demons, they’re mostly treated as sves. By humans, they’re usually killed on sight. There's no safe pce for them. Always living in hiding, both from humans and demons alike."

  Ethan frowned deeply. "Can't we take them in?"

  Alric shot him a sharp look. "Don't be naive, boy. Didn't you hear what I just said? What are you going to do if, instead of a free half-demon, you’re taking in a sve who’s been forced to obey a master’s orders unto death?" He let the heavy words sink in before continuing, voice quieter. "The war has ended only on paper. Demons remember their losses like it was yesterday. They hate us down to their bones. Even if all those responsible have been dead for a long time now."

  "So..." Ethan hesitated, "...no chance for reconciliation?"

  "None," Alric said bluntly. "After the war, there were three attempts, mind you. Of course, none of them are taught in your polished little Academy history csses. But the result was always the same. One side betrays the other. And luckily," he added with a bitter chuckle, "we were the winning side."

  "The way you say it... sounds like the demons weren't the ones always doing the betraying..." Ethan said carefully.

  "Indeed," Alric replied with a wry smirk. "Two out of the three betrayals came from the human side."

  Ethan felt a strange heaviness in his chest. "Then... shouldn't we be the ones called demons?"

  Alric let out a sharp bark of ughter, almost dropping the jar he was holding. "Hahahaha! Indeed! But being called human is the right of the victor!"

  Being called human is the right of the victor... Somehow, those words left a deep impression on Ethan, sinking deep into his mind where they would not easily be forgotten.

  Having finished his preparations, Professor Alric snapped his gloves on tightly and asked, "All set. Are you ready, boy?"

  Before Ethan could even open his mouth to answer, Alric added with a dismissive snort, "Well, I don't care!" and immediately got to work.

  "I've got plenty to do—it’s Saturday! I can’t babysit you all day!" he grumbled, pulling over his tools and getting started without hesitation.

  Two grueling hours ter, just as noon was creeping closer, the procedure finally ended.

  Alric wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve and muttered, "Now, I’m going to cast one st healing spell. It’ll help you regenerate faster. For now, keep the bandage on. Go have lunch, check your friends' notes, whatever." He waved his hand vaguely toward the door. "By the time night comes, you’re permitted to take the bandage off and see how things turned out. If it doesn’t work—" he pointed a stern finger at Ethan, "—come back here by nightfall, and we’ll try to fix it."

  He turned as if to leave, then paused in the doorway and looked back one st time. "Any questions?"

  Ethan hesitated, then asked carefully, "Hmm... There’s no danger of this eye, like, taking over my body or randomly developing superpowers or anything, right?"

  Alric scoffed. "Of course not! It’s just an eye!"

  "Tch," Ethan muttered under his breath, not entirely reassured.

  "Crazy bastard..." Alric shook his head, muttering to himself as he finally left the room.

  Almost as if passing a baton, the door swung open again almost immediately, and someone else entered.

  "Ethan, are you okay?" Misha's voice called out.

  Despite only half a day being left, that day felt unusually long. Ethan had to comfort a crying Misha, find a pce to have lunch, greet his friends who had all gathered worried sick about him, read through all the notes they had painstakingly compiled from the csses he missed, and—most draining of all—feed a certain hungry familiar who, of course, was thirsting after his mana.

  By the time he finally dragged himself back to his room, Ethan felt like colpsing right there in the hallway. When he opened the door, he found Hen and his two other roommates lounging on the floor, a scattered deck of cards between them.

  Hen was the first to spot him. His eyes widened. "Ethan!? What happened to you!? Did a troll ambush you or what!? You disappear for days and come back looking like that! We were starting to think you ran away!"

  Ethan just sighed, too tired to even think of an eborate lie, and gave a very short, extremely summarized version of what had happened. Something about helping a friend, a fight, and ending up in the infirmary—he couldn’t even remember what exactly he said.

  Hen shook his head with a grin, then stood and cpped a hand heavily on Ethan’s shoulder. "That’s what happens when you try to py the hero. Next time, call the guard for some help!"

  "The guard?... The guard!!!" Ethan froze, a horrified realization hitting him like a brick.

  Why the hell hadn’t he thought of that!? It was so stupidly obvious! Call the city guard! That’s what they were there for! He felt like such a fool, he wanted to bury himself headfirst into the nearest dirt patch and stay there for a week.

  Hen blinked at his expression. "Uh... you good, man?"

  "Yeah," Ethan muttered, face burning with secondhand shame. "Yeah, next time... I'll call the guard instead."

  He trudged toward his bed, ignoring Hen’s confused ughter in the background, feeling the heavy, invisible weight of all his mistakes piling up over him.