Mario had told the director everything that had happened in the simulation, and the conversation had lasted almost two hours.

  The director remained seated on the sofa. He watched Mario leave through the door, then lifted his head and stared at the ceiling for a long moment.

  Remembering what Mario had told him earlier—

  His expression dimmed, his eyes dulled by a weary, lingering exhaustion.

  "So… he received a unique skill," he muttered unconsciously before shaking his head slightly.

  He released a slow, burdened sigh before forcing himself upright and moving toward a large, weathered cabinet. Its wood creaked faintly as he opened it. He brushed the clothes aside with practiced familiarity, then reached deeper—unlocking a concealed compartment.

  Within lay a long black briefcase.

  Its surface was scarred and weather-worn, dulled by years of use and neglect.

  His gaze lingered on it. His eyes grew distant as layered emotions surfaced, memories stirring one after another.

  Fighting…

  Healing…

  Then fighting again…

  He remembered standing before a group of youths after becoming an instructor—his voice steady, his posture firm—as he taught different students the fundamentals.

  Then retirement.

  Choosing a city to disappear into.

  Buying a building. Opening an orphanage with his own savings.

  Running it. Maintaining it. Enduring it.

  And finally—

  Meeting an expressionless child with green eyes holding something he couldn't name, nor understand.

  Until, without realizing when, he grew close to that child.

  Until he gave him his own name.

  So much had happened in such a short span of time.

  Yet… he had enjoyed it.

  A faint smile surfaced despite the tangled, weary emotions lingering in his eyes. He took the briefcase, returned to the sofa, and placed it down carefully on the table.

  He lifted a key from the chain around his neck, fingers lingering on its cold metal before sliding it into the lock.

  With a deliberate twist—Click.

  The briefcase opened.

  Inside, a sword rested in its sheath.

  He picked it up with his left hand, the other brushing over the worn surface of the sheath.

  Slowly, almost reverently, he drew the blade. Black as midnight, it bore countless tiny points, like stars suspended in a void.

  Sunlight spilled through the window, catching the points briefly, making them shine.

  "You've been with me since I entered that inheritance site," he murmured, eyes fixed, unblinking.

  A brief shake of his head before a faint smile tugged at his lips. "It's time for you to change hands."

  '... And also time for me to let go.'

  He returned the blade to its sheath, laying it carefully back in the briefcase.

  The director let out a long, raw sigh and fell back against the sofa, finally letting go.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  ---

  Meanwhile—

  After talking to the director, Mario headed toward a certain room. He stopped at the door as childhood memories resurfaced in his mind.

  Alone… Silent… Peaceful…

  The smell of old pages as he flipped each one after reading.

  He slowly opened it.

  The familiar creak didn't sound—the door was newer compared to before.

  An unfamiliar, clean room appeared before him. There were no boxes containing books; instead, bookshelves lined the walls, holding new and old books alike.

  Step. Step. Step.

  He walked past every bookshelf, looking at the books he had already finished reading.

  Then he picked one and sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the bookshelf.

  Minutes later, the sound of flipping pages resounded in the silent room.

  ---

  Hours later—

  Knock.

  A knock resounded, then a woman's voice: "Little Mario, it's time for lunch."

  Hearing the familiar voice, he stopped and placed something on his current page as a bookmark. He stood and patted his back unconsciously from habit.

  He placed the book back on the shelf before going out.

  The director and the others were already sitting at the table.

  A woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties was bringing food to the table.

  She smiled when she saw him.

  He put on his usual mask as he greeted her in a way she would like: "Big sis Lorena."

  After hearing the words "big sis" instead of "aunty," her smile became even more gentle.

  Meanwhile, the director, sitting in his place, had his mouth twitch. 'This kid… he's certainly good with people.'

  He shook his head slightly.

  ---

  After half an hour of eating—

  Mario stood up, planning to help wash the dishes, but Lorena stopped him and said, "It's fine, I'll do it myself."

  She touched his head as if seeing the same child from before. "It's been six months. You've grown up again."

  Then she sighed before saying, "Belated happy birthday. I'll cut your hair later as a gift."

  Mario smiled. "Thank you, big sis."

  Mario waited for half an hour before being called by Lorena.

  He followed her to the corner and sat on a chair. She lifted his hair in sections, snipping steadily. Locks of dark hair fell to the floor, the scissors moving rhythmically until she finished. He expressed his gratitude before returning to the room to read again.

  ---

  Time passed.

  The room was gradually becoming darker.

  Mario frowned, then looked at the window and noticed the sun was almost gone.

  He exhaled while stretching his arms and shoulders. He stood up, more relaxed and peaceful after reading, before walking out holding the book in his hand.

  Mario returned to the director's room.

  He knocked.

  After receiving a reply, he entered.

  Different from early morning, the director wasn't reading a book.

  Instead—

  He was standing beside the window, looking at an unknown place. He was silent, seemingly thoughtful. The light from the retreating sun bathed him.

  "Director, I'm going back now," Mario said. He approached the table before placing a pouch containing some silver—his savings from the past half year.

  Suddenly, something caught his attention.

  Looking at the briefcase on the sofa, a memory passed through his mind, making him recognize it immediately.

  The director turned, hearing the pouch being placed on the table.

  His eyes landed on Mario placing the pouch containing his savings, and a bitter smile briefly appeared on his face.

  'He's at it again.'

  But he couldn't really stop him either. Eventually, he coughed and approached Mario.

  "I already told you—you don't need to do this. The money from others is more than enough."

  He took the briefcase from the sofa and looked at Mario before saying, "Originally, I didn't plan to give this to you. However—"

  His eyes locked with Mario's. "...You received a unique skill."

  Mario remained silent, looking at the director.

  The director placed his free hand on Mario's shoulder and smiled. "Happy birthday."

  He handed the briefcase and key to Mario.

  "I guess you're already aware of what's inside, so I'll talk about that later."

  He sat down on the sofa. "…Instead—"

  And gestured for Mario to sit down.

  Mario sat down and looked at the director, waiting and listening to what he was going to say.

  Looking at the director's eyes, Mario saw complicated emotions briefly appearing.

  "Because you received a unique skill, your path will be more exhausting than mine," the director said, trying to lighten what he was about to say.

  But Mario didn't show any reaction.

  "...Three hundred years ago, humans on this planet experienced a great change." His eyes never left Mario as he recounted the history he'd been told.

  "On the same day, everyone eighteen and above received an interference—something everyone called the proficiency panel."

  '300 years…' Though surprised, Mario didn't comment.

  "Because of the proficiency panel, everything became a skill—a skill that could be progressed through repetition. Because of that, technology, martial arts, medicine, and other fields accelerated in their progress." The director took a breath. "...That time was called 'The Golden Era' in history."

  "However, twenty years into the 'Golden Era,' something new appeared." He paused briefly, hoping for a reaction—though he received none.

  He knew that Mario liked reading and learning. He'd thought Mario would show some emotion, but there was none.

  'He became too honest with me… can't he at least pretend to be curious like he did before?'

  The director didn't know if he should be happy or disappointed about that. "...A trial appeared on the panel—though it's gone now. But from those trials, we received something that truly changed the world.

  "One nation received Knight cultivation techniques, another received martial cultivation techniques, and the last one received swordsman cultivation techniques—marking 'The Cultivation Era.'"

  "However…" He paused, his expression turning serious.

  "Five years later, a massive rift opened in the sky, from which an unidentified energy spread across the planet, transforming animals into ferocious giant beasts."

  "The ferocious giant beasts weren't the problem—humans managed to contain their threat after a few years, giving birth to hunters."

  "Instead…" The director's hands clenched. "After containing the threat of beasts, a massive land appeared through the rift. And from that land appeared other humans like us—but they could wield the unknown energy now known as mana."

  "It's said that from that point on, we experienced our true war, which lasted for more than two hundred years."

  "I was born in that war… and lost my parents to it." The director's hands unclenched as he breathed out. "Afterwards, I was taken care of by the higher-ups, given privileges because my parents died as heroes."

  For a brief moment the director's eyes appeared lost.

  Though Mario saw it, he didn't know how to comfort him either and could only listen.

  The director let out a soft sigh before he continued. "I grew up, trained, and fought in that war after turning twenty. Back then, we were already on par with those mages because of unique skills."

  He paused as he locked eyes with Mario. "I didn't know anything about unique skills, as I didn't receive one myself. I only know that when we were on the verge of losing, some eighteen-year-old youths received more than a proficiency panel—a unique skill."

  "That war ended 94 years ago after the appearance of a special-type unique skill holder who called himself 'Prophet,' and with the help of the three rulers of three great nations."

  "...But it merely ceased, for reasons unknown to people like me."

  Mario frowned slightly in thought after hearing "94 years ago," making him appear to be intently looking at the director's eyes.

  The director seemed to realize something and gave a small, awkward nod. "…You caught that, didn't you?"

  He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not fifty. I'm… well, more than a hundred. I just don't bring it up."

  Mario was pulled out of his thoughts, a hint of confusion appeared on his face as he said, "I didn't say anything though."

  Cough.

  'Damn… Why am I even feeling embarrassed? It's not like I did anything wrong other than lying—and it's not like others don't do that.'

  He then looked at Mario and shook his head inwardly.

  'This kid… I feel like I'm being judged by his look.'

  A moment later—

  "Anyway…" the director cleared his throat, forcing himself back on track. "After that, the three great nations became four, and the rift closed. Ten years later, academies appeared. I became an instructor after the war and retired here afterward. The rest is history."