Prologue
The sky was yellow.
No, the sky was actually blue. But to his eyes, it didn't look blue at all.
"It's been a while, Senior."
A shadow fell over him.
His whole body ached. But more than his body, it was his heart that hurt.
Thud.Something dropped in front of him.
"It's 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 Pellenberg family head.
"Why… why would Father 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, do you still call it slander? Stop this before it gets even more disgraceful, Senior."
Cold, blue eyes looked down 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 as of today, you are considered dead."
However, the other soon withdrew the sword.
"Never appear before me again—or before anyone, for that matter. That is the last courtesy I can offer you, Senior."
"Then… what about my money…?"
At that, the other burst into laughter.
"Ah, apologies. I didn't mean to mock you. Hm… should I say this is just like you to the end, or that your greed is just too much?"
Their expression turned ice cold.
"Of course, you may not take a single thing gained under the name of Pellenberg. It's ridiculous that I even need to say this out loud."
"Th-that's absurd…!"
"…No! Just kill me instead!"
Fernan awoke from his sleep. He calmed his ragged breath, relieved by the familiar ceiling above him, and gulped down some cold water.
Running a hand through his hair irritably, he cursed.
"…Damn it."
That dream again.
No… could he really call it just a dream?
It was the future.
A power of prophecy he had gained by chance.
"Normally, a prophecy would be a tremendous 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 the family and lose all his wealth.
"Do they think I'll let that happen? No way. No way in hell."
As Fernan made his vow with bloodshot eyes, he sensed movement outside.
Knock knock.
"Young Master, are you awake?"
"…Wait a moment."
Once he fixed his disheveled clothes and face, the attendant entered.
"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."
A short while later, some simple bread and soup were brought in. After finishing his meal, Fernan checked the time and headed to the meeting room.
"The branch manager is entering."
"Welcome, Branch Manager."
As he entered, everyone in the room rose to their feet.
Fernan casually acknowledged their greetings and sat at the head of the table.
"Let's begin the meeting."
He spread out the reports placed before him.
"Yes, we will now begin the regular meeting for February 11th."
"I will now begin the report. On February 10th, yesterday, the entrance exams for the prospective new students were held."
"Throughout the day-long examination, not only the students and their parents, but also their escorts and servants all used the shops operated by the merchant group. Sales saw a significant increase…"
"Professor Alton from the Department of Alchemy requested that we procure certain magical reagents. The specific reagents are…"
"Additionally, Professor Vendal asked for mana stones to create golem cores…"
The reports continued 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 only natural.
It was a prophecy of the worst possible future, coming closer in real time—no sane person could remain unaffected after seeing something like that.
"That's enough. Let's end the morning meeting here. We'll handle the rest tomorrow."
"Yes, understood."
"Yes, sir!"
Fernan left the meeting room and headed to the terrace connected to his office. He let out a deep sigh as he sipped a cup of coffee.
"Is something troubling you?"
"Something? No, nothing."
There was, but he couldn't talk about that dream to anyone.
"You've seemed more preoccupied with stray thoughts lately."
"Do I? Since when?"
"Roughly half a year ago?"
"Well, that's not exactly recent."
But the timing was accurate.
"Is it the aftereffects from that day still lingering?"
"No."
"But it's strange. Since then, you've often seemed distracted, and you've made some baffling decisions."
Of course, those decisions had turned out to be beneficial. By getting ahead of the curve, Fernan had greatly increased the merchant group's profits.
"In the end, they were the right decisions."
"But they weren't in line with 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 it might have looked that way. But at the time, there was no other choice."
"Do you have another source of information?"
"And if I said I did, would you believe me?"
Yes, he did. A source of information more precious than anything one could get elsewhere.
Fernan recalled what had happened back then.
It had been an ordinary day.
"Not a single proposal is to my liking. None of them seem remotely effective."
A typical morning meeting. A day like any other where he scolded those who failed to 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 struck him for no apparent reason.
"Still, things have gotten a lot better, haven't they?"
"They're much better than at the start, sure. But even so…"
───!
Without any warning or sign, Fernan's world was suddenly engulfed in white.
Rumble—
A moment later, a thunderous roar split the sky.
"Gaaahhh!"
He realized too late that it had been lightning, but the shock was so intense it knocked the breath from his lungs, leaving him dazed and disoriented.
In that weakened moment, something forced its way in.
— W-what is this?
A soul.
Possession? It began spouting incomprehensible words and tearing through Fernan's mind.
'What the hell are you…!'
It was painful, it was 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 faint traces of mana he had left began to strike at the invader.
— What the—!
Gurgle.
As mana tore through his insides, blood and white froth 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 me go!
Unlike its dramatic entrance, the soul was pathetically torn apart into dozens of fragments.
Some fled. Others were absorbed into Fernan.
"What… the hell is this…?"
And in that moment, unknown memories slammed into Fernan's mind.
A massive flood of knowledge—far too vast for him to handle.
Most of it passed by like acquaintances you greet in passing, then forget.
As if they had sunk into the depths of his consciousness, waiting for the day they'd rise again.
Perhaps because of that, only a few memories remained—like fragments of a forgotten dream.
"…The demons… are stirring again?"
But above all, one thing remained vividly clear.
It was a prophecy of the grim end of this world.
"…I'm going to lose all my money and end up a beggar? What the hell kind of—!"
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 bits of seemingly minor information—details that proved incredibly useful to the merchant group—to increase their market share.
"They say fortune and misfortune come hand in hand."
The fortune of knowing the future… and the misfortune that the future was one of near-certain ruin.
That was what had suddenly visited Fernan on that fateful day.