CHAPTER 55: CHAPTER: 55 YOU STINK!

Vivian swung his sword with fluid precision, each motion like a dance upon the training ground Charlotte had specially requested when he enrolled at the academy.

Sweat clung to his skin, his training gear soaked through, yet he didn’t seem to notice.

His world, in that moment, was the blade’s arc and the rhythm of his breath.

From the platform nearby, Charlotte watched him, her chin resting on her hands, cheeks gently cupped as a fond smile curved her lips.

It had been a week since they returned, back through time itself, after surviving the hell that had nearly broken them.

In those seven days, they’d slowly steadied their hearts, letting the echoes of that torment fade.

To Charlotte, the whole thing felt like a dream, she had never imagined she would meet her Vivian again.

Yet fate, cruel as it was, carried the strange gift of unpredictability, granting them a mysterious chance at life once more.

"Fate..." she murmured under her breath as the image of the glowing orb returned to her mind.

That ball of light had promised her a chance to fix everything, yet she had no idea how she had regressed.

The last thing she remembered was cutting off her tongue and dying in that endless white void.

When she asked Vivian about the orb, he looked stunned for a moment.

But soon, regaining his composure, he said quietly, "That ball of light, or whatever it was, never told me what it truly was. But... strangely, it felt familiar somehow. Still, I wasn’t in any state to think about it then."

Although Vivian wanted to tell her about the system, too many things still felt uncertain.

He didn’t want to reveal that he had transmigrated, not yet.

Better to stay silent, to hide the truth a little longer, and leave it for the future to decide.

But would he ever be able to tell her the truth, that he wasn’t the real Vivian? He didn’t know.

But one thing was certain: that ball of light knew something about him, something he himself didn’t understand.

And during the week, as they spoke in fragments, between quiet conversations and long silences, they often found themselves facing the same question: what should they do next?

And after much thought, they’d finally reached a decision.

They had reached a single, unshakable conclusion, before anything else, they needed to cure Vivian’s curse.

It was the cornerstone of their plan, the first and most crucial step. Without freeing him from it, nothing else would matter.

Yet even after a week of restless thought, they found no solution.

They knew the nature of the curse, but identifying its exact form was maddeningly difficult, as if it resisted being understood.

Their only lead came from that wretch, Kafrik, who, before killing Vivian, had revealed that the curse was bound to Vivian’s heart, intertwined with his mana core.

That clue had given them a flicker of hope.

But hope alone was far from enough.

Charlotte’s brows knitted into a deep frown as she tried to think of a way forward.

She had searched again and again for a cure, but every path led to the same wall of disappointment.

"Haa..", a soft sigh escaped her lips, her expression easing only slightly.

"If only that curse hadn’t halted his growth..." she murmured under her breath.

They had agreed to keep everything that had happened to them a secret.

But if the curse couldn’t be cured, if he failed to break through to the Fifth Star, then she wouldn’t let him take any reckless risks.

She would tell her father everything, expose what they had gone through.

At the very least, that would be enough to bring down Kafrik and the Tramplins... right?

That was the decision Charlotte had made.

But Vivian thought differently. He refused to stop, not even for a moment.

He knew that killing Kafrik and the Tramplins wouldn’t be enough.

If they didn’t uncover the true mastermind behind House Tramplin, it wouldn’t just be a problem, it would turn into a disaster waiting to happen.

Although the curse had shackled his cultivation. He could barely train his mana for more than an hour and a half before the pain became unbearable, yet he kept swinging his sword without pause, every strike powered by nothing but sheer will.

He was chasing that spark of intuition he’d glimpsed before the regression, desperate to reclaim it.

If he could reach the Fifth Star... if he could awaken his intuition again... then with Charlotte by his side, a Fifth Star mage herself, they might just stand a chance.

A chance to defeat Professor Garhard, especially with the aid of the artifacts they’d secured.

After a while, Vivian finally lowered his sword.

His chest heaved as he walked toward Charlotte, sweat glistening down his skin.

He grabbed the hem of his training shirt, the fabric clinging tightly to his body, and used it to wipe the sweat from his face.

The motion revealed the sculpted lines of muscle he’d earned through relentless effort.

"Any lead?" he asked, his voice rough with exhaustion.

Charlotte, normally composed and steady, felt her face warm.

She fanned herself with one hand, her eyes fixed stubbornly elsewhere. "N-No... there aren’t any leads yet," she managed, her voice softer than usual.

Ignoring her stammering, Vivian sat down beside her.

His gaze drifted upward to the open sky above the training ground, there was no roof, only the vast blue stretching endlessly overhead.

After a long moment of silence, he spoke. "I have a way," he said at last, as casually as if it were nothing important.

Charlotte’s breath caught.

Normally, she would have scolded him for speaking so recklessly, but something in his tone stopped her.

It was too calm, too deliberate, the kind of calm that only came when someone had already accepted the danger of their choice.

"What... what method?" she asked quietly, her heart tightening with unease.

"Vahemoth," Vivian said quietly.

Charlotte blinked. "Vahemoth?" she repeated, confusion flickering across her face.

Vivian hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to speak at all. Finally, he exhaled.

"It’s a creature rumored to possess two lives. Most call it a myth, but... in some records, the stories hold truth."

Charlotte frowned, trying to recall what she knew. "I’ve heard of it," she murmured, "but... how could a Vahemoth help with your curse?"

Vivian’s gaze hardened.

He didn’t truly know if it would work, but after learning that the curse was bound to his heart, the idea had taken root and refused to leave him.

"A Vahemoth," he began slowly, "is said to have two hearts. But in truth, it only has one." He paused, letting the words sink in before continuing.

"When its heart is pierced, another instantly takes its place, reborn from within the first."

He wouldn’t have believed it himself, not normally.

But as the author of "The Order of Love," he remembered using a Vahemoth’s heart once, to save that damned protagonist, Kafrik’s comrade, after Charlotte had nearly killed him.

Back then, it was just a plot device. His writing had always been unreliable anyway; nothing had gone as it should since he’d been thrown into this world.

Yet, even so, the idea refused to fade. If it could save someone in the story, perhaps it could save him now.

"It’s dangerous," he admitted, his tone flat, eyes cold.

"But it’s the only way. We need to capture a living Vahemoth, refine its heart together with mine... and then destroy my original heart."

He said it as if describing the weather, calm, detached, almost indifferent to the danger.

Charlotte’s breath hitched.

The color drained from her face as she stood abruptly. "No," she said, her voice trembling. "Absolutely not."

Her reaction was exactly what he’d feared, the reason he hadn’t wanted to tell her in the first place.

But after thinking it through, he knew he had no choice. He couldn’t face a Vahemoth alone.

That creature was said to be as strong as a Fifth-Star warrior, or a mage of equal rank.

Even if he somehow managed to defeat it, capturing one alive without killing it would be nearly impossible.

He needed Charlotte’s strength.

Vivian exhaled slowly and tried to speak. "Charlotte, look... there aren’t any other—"

But she cut him off, her voice sharp and trembling. "No! It’s too risky!"

Her breath came unsteadily as she tried to compose herself.

"What if those rumors are wrong?" she said, hands trembling. For someone as strong as her, the sight was heartbreaking.

Her voice cracked as her eyes glistened. "If something goes wrong, I’ll lose you again. And if that happens... how am I supposed to live with that?"

Vivian let out another weary sigh.

Convincing her would be difficult, he knew that much.

Rubbing his temples, he finally reached out and drew her into his arms.

She tensed at first, then melted against him as he gently patted her head.

"Don’t worry," he murmured, his voice calm, steady, the kind of steadiness that hides cracks beneath it.

"I won’t leave you. I’ll confirm the rumors first, and only then... I’ll take that step. So, don’t worry, alright?"

The words were half-truths. Lies born of love. But at this point, he had no other choice.

He had seven years left, that much he knew. The curse would claim his life by then, just as it had in the story he’d once written.

Before, he’d had the system to protect him, its immunity stats had slowed the curse’s advance.

But that safeguard is gone now. There was no other path, no miracle waiting. Only the risk of the Vahemoth’s heart.

And that, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her.

But Charlotte didn’t seem convinced. She tightened her hold around him, her voice trembling as she whispered, "Promise me... you won’t do anything that puts you in danger."

For a fleeting moment, she reminded him of his mother, the way she would cling to him even when he so much as sneezed.

The memory tugged a small, involuntary smile from him.

’Who would’ve thought,’ he mused silently, ’that the proud, tyrannical princess, the so-called villainess, could be this fragile?’

He gently brushed her hair back and murmured, "Alright... I promise. I won’t do anything reckless. So don’t worry."

Even as the lie left his lips, the warmth in her embrace made him wish, just for a moment, that it could be true.

Finally after clutching to his chest and thinking it through, Charlotte seemed convinced.

She slowly loosened her grip, her expression softening, only for her nose to wrinkle the next instant.

"You stink," she muttered, pulling back slightly.

Vivian blinked, then let out a quiet laugh. The tension that had gripped the air melted away in an instant.

After everything they’d endured, the pain, the fear, the endless talk of curses, her teasing words felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.

"Guess that’s what happens when someone trains nonstop," he said, smiling faintly.