Failed Possession Chapter-68

## Ch-68.

—

A few years ago, Elena Heinderga had lived diligently.

Back in those “old days,” she had lived alone in the estate just as she did now—but at that time, her routine had been precise. She went to sleep at a set hour and woke at a set hour every day.

After the period of living alone ended and a housemate entered the estate—she enjoyed life with that housemate so much that she became even more faithful to her routine than when she had been alone.

She liked waking in the morning and greeting each other. She enjoyed sharing breakfast together. After returning from the Magic Tower, they would eat dinner, and sometimes, when in the mood, they would have a light drink and chat idly about trivial things—

“…”

Elena forced herself to seize her mind, which was trying to drown in a past that had already slipped two years away.

For her, recalling that time was dreadful and agonizing. The more she thought about it, the more she sank without end—that made it worse.

The throbbing headache intensified. If earlier it had felt like occasional needles pricking inside her brain, now it felt like razor blades scraping across its surface.

It was a constant headache. One born of the hangover clinging from the alcohol she had poured down the night before, combined with her unstable state of mind. Groaning as she clutched her disheveled hair, Elena finally managed to lift her head.

The light seeping through the gap in the closed curtains was unbearably bright. To the Elena of now, such light brought nothing but irritation and pain.

‘This won’t do.’

Until now she had left the curtains as they were—but she could not endure it any longer. After all, there was no longer anyone who would walk into the living room, fling open the curtains, throw open the windows, and nag her.

She steadied her breathing.

In the past—

Back when she had not feared sleep and instead looked forward to the next morning—she had lived with the living room curtains wide open. She had felt warmth in the light filling the large windows, and freshness in the breeze that flowed in when the windows were opened.

‘No.’

Throb. The headache worsened. Elena bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut.

‘Don’t think about the past.’

She resented her mind for recalling it of its own accord, even when she did not wish to.

“Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it…”

Gripping her throbbing head with both hands, she repeated the words like a self-hypnotic chant.

The simple muttering was surprisingly effective. After repeating it for some time, the headache eased a little, and the memories stopped surfacing.

In the end, she had to be immersed in something. She had to redirect her mind away from recalling what she did not wish to remember.

That was why the moments before falling asleep were the most frightening.

She had tried forcing sleep through magic, but spells that acted upon the mind were difficult to handle and not without side effects.

No matter how long she postponed it, the time would come when she had to sleep. Whether on a bed or sofa, she would have to lie down, close her eyes, and wait for sleep.

At that moment, her mind would not listen. It would think on its own, generating anxiety and depression—

Likewise, she feared mornings. The gap before her foggy mind fully awakened. Even with the day’s tasks clearly laid out, she feared the fact that she had awakened—and the fact that, having awakened, she would one day have to sleep again.

“Don’t think…”

For the Elena she had become, that simple autosuggestion had turned into a ritual. Only after repeating it dozens of times did she feel her mind truly “wake.”

She took a steady breath and opened her eyes.

First, she flicked her finger toward the slightly parted curtains. A formula formed instantly and activated.

The gap in the curtains remained—but light no longer streamed in. She had enchanted the window itself.

The curtains, now unnecessary, were drawn wide open. Outside, the sun hung high in the sky—but the glass no longer reflected the world beyond. Instead, it showed only dull darkness.

Elena stared at it blankly, then flicked her finger again. The darkness rippled faintly, and sparkling dots embroidered the upper portion. A crude imitation of a night sky.

Even that eased her heart a little.

Soft lighting illuminated the darkened living room.

Only then did Elena exhale deeply and rise from where she had been lying.

In her current state, she had to do something—and fortunately, there were things right in front of her to do.

The alcohol that had soaked into the carpet looked like spilled blood. With a simple gesture of her finger, the absorbed liquor formed droplets that popped up one by one into the air. She evaporated them midair and recast a spell over the carpet. It became as fresh as new.

Next, she reached toward the bottles scattered around the table.

She had never particularly enjoyed alcohol.

It had begun with a drink at Orca’s recommendation, and after that she drank only occasionally when the occasion called for it.

Still, she had always kept a few bottles at home. Even having alcohol she did not intend to drink gave her a certain feeling.

When her housemate had been there—

“Don’t think.”

She muttered again, gathering the bottles together.

There were many reasons she had begun drinking daily after her bodyguard left. Because there was nothing to do when she came home. To redirect her wandering thoughts. Because falling asleep was painful and frightening.

There were spells to stabilize an unstable mind—but after trying many things, she found that drinking was better at giving her something to do.

‘It’s a mess.’

Even now. The living room was in disarray. When her housemate and Haryeong had been there—

“Don’t think.”

The bodies of high-Rank martial artists or high-Circle mages did not become easily intoxicated—but if one did not consciously suppress it, they could get drunk.

Elena liked that moment when her mind grew hazy from drink, and anxiety and depression blurred away.

‘What should I do today…?’

The living room was clean. There was nothing left to do.

Magical research? Reading?

‘Go out?’

Alone? Where? Unfortunately, Elena did not have many friends. In Lutran, the only people she could call “close” were her master Orda and her senior Lacy.

But she did not want to. It was not that she felt uncomfortable with them—rather, this was simply her nature. Accustomed to being alone. Comfortable in solitude.

And yet now she was being destroyed by a twisted form of the “alone” she once enjoyed.

‘Alone…’

Perhaps she could dine out. Or take a walk. Or go to the theater and watch a performance. Alone? Or start drinking alone right now…?

Twisting her tangled hair around her finger as such thoughts flowed on—

In the end, she decided to go to the Dercia Magic Tower.

—Aren’t you pushing yourself too hard?

Words Lacy had said yesterday.

—It’s good to work hard, but you look too unstable right now. So, Elena, promise me. One day a week, do nothing. Just stay home and laze around. Okay?

—You’ve been staying at the Magic Tower for days already, right? It’s not that that’s wrong. When I’m focused, I sometimes don’t even want to go home either. And I don’t mind if you drink at the Tower. That room is yours. You’re not getting drunk and causing a scene.

—Still, Elena, go home today and rest well. Draw a warm bath and use pretty, fragrant bath salts. Eat something delicious and sleep deeply. Or… want to have dinner with me?

It had been full of consideration.

She had not refused. Yesterday they had eaten dinner together at Lacy’s favorite restaurant, had a few light drinks, and returned home.

What had they talked about…? They had lightly gossiped that their master was rather spiteful. They had talked at length about the magic she was researching lately.

—It was fun.

—Elena, don’t come to the Tower tomorrow. Rest at home. Okay?

‘That’s because Senior doesn’t know me.’

Doing nothing and resting at home was the most painful thing for Elena.

She snapped off a strand of the hair she had been twisting and headed for the bathroom.

After bathing and drying her hair and body with magic, she brushed her hair roughly.

Snip, snap. Her dry strands broke with each stroke.

Her untrimmed bangs fell over her face. She brushed them aside and stood before the mirror.

Hair that now reached her thighs. Pale skin like a patient. Dull dark circles. A body so thin her ribs showed.

Elena stared at herself blankly—then let out a small, brittle laugh.

“I look like a corpse.”

She dressed and threw on her robe, pulling the hood deep over her head.

Outside the estate, the sun blazed brightly.

Elena hated this season.

Hot, sticky, humid—and too bright.

She hated summer, because it reminded her of two years ago.

*

*

Though it was well past noon, mages lived on a different clock from ordinary people.

For Elena, this was morning—she had only just awakened. For some mages, however, this hour might be night, when they struggled to resist sleep. For others, it might be lunchtime, when they sought to satisfy a light hunger.

The first floor of the Magic Tower was a place where mages who lived on different schedules gathered to talk and exchange ideas.

When maintaining a proper distance, they addressed each other as senior or junior. If they grew closer, they used names—unnie, noona, hyung, oppa.

For Elena, no title existed except “senior.”

“So then…”

The ordinary flow of conversation cut off abruptly.

Elena, who had just entered, tilted her head slightly at the sudden silence. The scene on the first floor of the Tower, which she had arrived at alone, looked the same as usual—and yet different.

It was not new for other mages to watch her carefully now that she was called by the nickname “Mad Thunder” and no longer the same as before. But today it was excessive.

“What?”

Normally she would have ignored it, but today she was already in a foul mood. And today it was worse than usual. They had been chattering openly in this spacious lounge moments ago—yet the instant she walked in, they clamped their mouths shut and glanced at her.

It was beyond rude.

Chewing on a long, bland meal-replacement biscuit, Elena frowned and glared at the mages in the lounge.

“Were you talking about me? Why’d you stop and start watching me instead of finishing what you were saying?”

Most of the mages gathered there were lower in Circle than she was.

Elena was no longer young within the Dercia Magic Tower. There was no need for her to speak politely.

There were mages older than her, and some who had entered the Tower earlier—but Elena did not consider them seniors. Why should she treat as seniors those whose only claim to superiority was time?

“Were you really badmouthing me? Instead of wasting time on that, you should be studying more mag—”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

The one who stood from one of the tables was Arist.

“Oh my, Arist ‘senior’? You’re still at the Tower?”

Elena’s lips twisted.

Arist Benharman—stuck at Fourth Circle for years, unable to even reach Fifth. She was no longer someone Elena needed to call “senior.”

And yet Elena always addressed her that way.

Not out of respect. But because she knew the word “senior” made Arist’s emotions boil.

“Every time I see you, I’m amazed. Clinging to the illusion of talent you don’t even have, wasting your days—I could never do that.”

At the sneering words, Arist’s face contorted. Clutching her luxurious purple robe, she glared at Elena. Elena’s lips twisted further at the sharpness of that gaze.

Arist’s carefully adorned beauty. Her neatly manicured nails painted with color. Her bright red lipstick, makeup, ornate earrings, necklace, bracelets, rings.

The sight poured oil onto Elena’s irritation.

“If you lack talent, you should at least pour in more effort. Ah, I think I know why you don’t return to the Benharman family. Planning to meet a man here in Lutran?”

“A man?”

Arist’s mouth twisted. She crumpled the paper in her hand and hurled it at Elena.

But the paper stopped midair before reaching her.

“What? Are you asking for a fight?”

“As if. It’s not like I could ever beat the illustrious Mad Thunder.”

Arist snorted and extended a finger—to spread open the newspaper suspended before Elena.

“…”

She intended to—but the crumpled paper did not unfold.

It remained frozen in midair before Elena.

Arist’s eyes flickered. She poured more soul power into it, reinforcing the mana—but the newspaper did not budge.

“What is it?”

Elena asked with a crooked smile.

Sweat beaded down Arist’s face as she gritted her teeth. Despite Arist’s visible strain, Elena’s expression did not change in the slightest.

“Now it’s finally worth looking at.”

Only after Arist’s makeup began to smear under the sweat did Elena release her hold.

The sudden release of tension made Arist stagger with a gasp.

Fortunately, she did not collapse to the floor—but her face flushed red with humiliation. Forcing her breathing steady, she glared at Elena.

“Curious what we were talking about before you came?”

The humiliation twisting her face gave way to a sneer. Compared to what Elena was about to see, the embarrassment she had just endured would be cheap.

“See for yourself.”

The crumpled newspaper slowly unfolded.

Elena frowned and looked at it.

<Orsia’s Sword Dragon Slays Bishop of the Cult of Chaos.>

That was the front-page headline.

Elena was incredulous.

Sword Dragon of Orsia? She had never met him, but she had heard much. The Sword Emperor’s grandson, hailed as the greatest among the younger generation of martial artists. Though he lived in a different world from hers, they were often mentioned together simply because they were the same age.

Some people even paired them romantically—simply because he was a man and she a woman.

Hearing talk of being destined partners with someone she had never even met made her nauseous—but the world was full of people who spouted nonsense.

“What the…”

She did not understand. Why show her this newspaper? What did it have to do with the earlier silence and the sideways glances?

“Are you trying to…”

As her eyes moved down the article, her face hardened.

<…Thus Sword Dragon, together with the Young Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult, Thunder Cloud, and Dark Flower, fought the bishop…>

<‘Thunder Cloud’ first drew attention in Lutran during the spar between Full-Moon Play and Fist Wolf…>

<Thunder Cloud’s real name is said to be Yuri, who until recently was active as a fighter in the black-path martial world…>

<According to Orsia’s official statement, Thunder Cloud played a decisive role in slaying the Chaos bishop, and his skill was such that Sword Dragon acknowledged him as a friend.>

<Furthermore, sources indicate that Thunder Cloud has been childhood friends with the young mage widely regarded as the most famous among her generation, ‘Marigold’ Elena Heinderga.>

<Sword Dragon, Thunder Cloud, and Marigold. With the emergence of these young masters of the same generation, many predict an era of upheaval…>

<The Dark Flower mentioned alongside him is Thunder Cloud’s companion. Previously known as Marigold’s bodyguard, she is a female expert…>

<Though little is known of the assassin from the Salho Gate, given her association with Thunder Cloud, she is expected to rise to prominence alongside him…>

<Currently, Thunder Cloud and Dark Flower are staying at the Orsia Family estate at Sword Dragon’s invitation. The Sword Emperor himself has offered high praise for the two young talents…>

There were further paragraphs beneath about the Young Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult—but Elena did not see them.

—Crack!

Lightning burst from the air, turning the newspaper to black ash.

The current did not dissipate.

Crackle, crack—

Electricity roared around Elena, her face drained pale.

Since reaching Fifth Circle, emotional surges no longer triggered uncontrolled lightning.

But now her emotions were so violent that she could not suppress it.

—I think I’ll go look for Yuri.

Haryeong’s voice from months ago echoed in her mind.

—Will you come with me to find him?

Don’t think.

Her will mixed with the thought—but it did not stop.

—Miss.

—Won’t you regret it?

—Perhaps Yuri-nim also… thinking about Lady Elena coming…

Don’t think.

It felt no longer like razor blades scraping her brain—but like something stabbing and tearing it apart.

‘Don’t think.’

Elena clutched at her hair and gasped for breath.