Chapter 0: Prologue

The sky was yellow.

No, the sky was blue. But to his eyes, it didn’t look blue at all.

“It’s been a while, sir.”

A shadow fell over him.

His whole body ached. But more than his body, his heart hurt.

Thud.

Something fell in front of him. It was an expulsion letter. Personally issued by the head of the Pellenberg family.

With trembling hands, he picked up the letter. Its contents were exactly as the other had said.

And the seal at the bottom was unmistakably that of the head of the Pellenberg family.

“Why… why would Dad do this to me…?”

“You crossed too many lines. You became a dog of the demons and aided the wicked.”

“That’s slander! I never did such a thing!”

“With such clear evidence, you still call it slander? Stop this before it becomes even more disgraceful, sir.”

Cold blue eyes stared at him.

A chill brushed his throat. It was a sword.

“I have an agreement with the head of House Pellenberg, so I won’t kill you. But from today on, I consider you dead.”

However, the other soon withdrew the sword.

“Don’t ever show yourself before me again, or before anyone, in fact. It’s the last courtesy I can offer you, elder.”

“Then… what about my money…?”

At this, the other burst out laughing.

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to mock you. Mmm… Should I say this is so like you to the end, or that your greed is just too much?”

His expression turned icy.

“Of course, you can’t take anything earned under the name of Pellenberg. It’s ridiculous that I even have to say it out loud.”

“Th-that’s absurd…!”

“No! Just kill me instead!”

***

Fernan woke up. He calmed his ragged breathing, relieved by the familiar ceiling, and took a sip of cold water.

Running a hand through his irritated hair, he cursed.

“…Damn it.”

That dream again.

Could it really just be called a dream?

It was the future.

A prophetic power he had acquired by chance.

“Normally, a prophecy would be an incredible blessing for a merchant like me…”

But for Fernan, it wasn’t. Because the future it showed was his downfall—a future where he would be expelled from his family and lose all his wealth.

“Do they think I’m going to let that happen? No way! Not a chance!”

As Fernan made his vow with bloodshot eyes, he sensed movement outside.

Knock, knock.

“Young Master, are you awake?”

“…Just a moment.”

Once he had straightened his rumpled clothes and face, the attendant came in.

“When did you wake up?”

“Not long ago.”

“Would you like to eat first?”

“Something simple. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shortly after, they brought him some plain bread and soup. After finishing his meal, Fernan checked the time and headed to the meeting room.

“The branch manager is entering.”

“Welcome, Branch Manager.”

When he walked in, everyone in the room stood up.

Fernan casually returned their greetings and sat at the head of the table.

“Let’s begin the meeting.”

He spread out the reports in front of him.

“Yes, we will now begin the regular meeting of February 11.”

“I will begin the report. Yesterday, February 10, the entrance exams for prospective new students were held.”

Throughout the exam day, not only students and their parents but also their companions and servants used the merchants’ guild shops. Sales increased significantly.

Professor Alton from the Alchemy Department requested certain magical reagents. The specific reagents were…

In addition, Professor Vendal requested mana stones to create golem cores. The reports went on one after another, but none of it registered in Fernan’s mind.

It was always like this on the days he had that dream. His mind went blank, and he couldn’t concentrate.

In a way, it was natural.

It was a prophecy of the worst possible future, approaching in real time; no sane person could stay unaffected after seeing something like that.

“That’s enough. Let’s end the morning meeting here. We’ll take care of the rest tomorrow.”

“Yes, understood.”

“Yes, sir!”

Fernan left the meeting room and headed to the terrace outside his office.

He let out a deep sigh as he sipped some coffee.

“Is something bothering you?”

“Something? No, nothing.”

There was, but he couldn’t talk about that dream with anyone.

“You seem more preoccupied with scattered thoughts lately.”

“Do I? Since when?”

“About half a year ago?”

“Well, that’s not exactly recent.”

But the timing was spot on.

“Are you still feeling the aftereffects of that day?”

“No.”

But it’s strange. Since then, you’ve often seemed distracted and made puzzling decisions.

Of course, those decisions ended up being beneficial. By staying ahead of events, Fernan significantly increased the merchant guild’s profits.

“In the end, they were the right decisions.”

But they didn’t follow your usual approach. You always prioritized thorough research and verification. Suddenly, you started acting like you were possessed by some god.

From the outside, I suppose that’s how it seemed. But at that moment, there was no other choice.

“Do you have another source of information?”

“And if I told you I did, would you believe me?”

“Yes, I would. A source of information more valuable than any other that could be obtained anywhere.”

Fernan remembered what happened back then.

***

It had been a normal day. None of the proposals convinced him. None seemed even remotely effective.

A typical morning meeting. A day like any other when he scolded those who didn’t meet his expectations.

They say misfortune and fortune always strike without warning. That day was exactly that kind of day for Fernan—a day when misfortune hit for no apparent reason.

“Even so, things have gotten much better, haven’t they?”

They’re much better than at the beginning, sure. But even so—

───!

Without warning or sign, Fernan’s world was suddenly engulfed in white.

Rumble!

A moment later, a thunderous roar split the sky.

“Gaaaahhh!”

He realized too late that it had been lightning, but the impact was so intense it knocked the breath out of him, leaving him stunned and disoriented.

In that moment of weakness, something forced its way in.

— W-what is this?

A soul.

Possession? It began spewing incomprehensible words and tearing Fernan’s mind apart.

‘What the hell are you…?!’

It was painful, overwhelming, but Fernan instinctively gathered the mana in his heart.

He could feel it—the intruder was trying to take over his body.

Even the weak traces of mana he had left began attacking the invader.

— What—?!

Gurgle.

As mana pierced his insides, blood and white foam spilled from Fernan’s mouth, and tears of blood streamed from his bloodshot eyes.

But the invader didn’t escape unscathed.

— Aagh! It hurts! Let go of me!

Unlike its dramatic entrance, the soul was pathetically torn into dozens of fragments.

Some fled. Others were absorbed by Fernan.

“What… the hell is this…?”

And at that moment, unknown memories flooded Fernan’s mind.

A massive torrent of knowledge, too vast for him to handle.

Most of it passed by, like acquaintances you greet in passing and then forget.

As if they had sunk deep into his subconscious, waiting for the day they’d resurface.

Maybe that’s why only a few memories remained, like fragments of a forgotten dream.

“…The demons… are moving again?”

But above all, one thing remained vividly clear. It was a prophecy of the grim end of this world.

Am I going to lose all my money and end up a beggar? What the hell…?!

A vision of a future worse than death itself.

That was where Fernan’s memory of that day ended. After waking from a three-day coma, he began using seemingly minor pieces of information (details that turned out to be incredibly useful for the merchant guild) to grow his market share.

“They say fortune and misfortune go hand in hand.”

The fortune of knowing the future and the misfortune of that future being near-certain ruin.

That’s what suddenly visited Fernan on that fateful day.