Terminally-ill Instructor in Romance Fantasy

"Should I open it now…?"

The words slipped from my mouth in a low murmur as my hand hovered over the knob.

I could feel the cold metallic surface even through my gloves in my palm.

A reminder of how long I'd avoided this door.

My research room.

After a small hesitation, I finally twisted the key.

*Click!

My eyes swept over the interior.

Boards covered in cramped notes.

Charts pinned messily, lines crisscrossing in frantic patterns.

Shelves burdened with books so tightly pressed they seemed to suffocate.

Gadgets...half-complete mechanisms...coils of mana-wire...glass vials that caught the faint light strewn across the tables.

It wasn't nearly as vast as I had imagined it to be after so long.

In fact, it felt… crowded and cramped.

As though everything had been piled together in an anxious rush.

I stepped inside.

The faint dust stirred under my boot, and then I stopped.

My gaze returned slowly to the door.

"…Someone was already in here not too long ago..."

The thought struck with absolute certainty.

I replayed the moment again

...the way the key had slid in and turned without a hitch and the way the mechanism inside had moved like butter.

Even with Velorian Academy's tendency to pour money into durability and even with its perfectly maintained materials...a lock untouched for three years should have put up at least some fight.

Even a squeak.

It opened like it had been installed yesterday.

I glanced down at the key in my hand.

Was it… Claire?

It wouldn't surprise me.

She had been watching me with suspicion for weeks now and privately investigating me on her own terms.

If she decided to pry into my affairs, this would be exactly the kind of door she'd try to open.

But if so… how?

She didn't have this key.

"…Another copy?"

I muttered, narrowing my eyes.

The possibility gnawed at me.

For her to even enter meant she either had access beyond her station or… someone had given her help.

I closed my hand tightly around the key until the edges bit into my palm.

Regardless I dismisses it.

I'd change the knob.

No...better...I'd actually change the entire door.

I'd call my own person, not one from the academy, to construct something unique.

A lock built on a mechanism that even these pompous researchers couldn't imagine, tied to no system but mine.

Because if someone had already managed to step foot in here once…

That was proof enough.

Proof of how valuable whataver Noel studied or researched here really was.

Noel continued walking.

Dust floated in the air, disturbed by the faint creak of leather boots against the tiled floor.

Noel's eyes traced the long tables cluttered with parchment, alchemical tools, and old apparatuses that had clearly not been touched in some time.

The room smelled faintly of old paper and herbs that had dried long ago.

His gaze wandered, curious, until it fell upon a narrow door tucked into the corner.

Noel hesitated, his hand hovering above the handle.

"Another door?..."

Then he pushed it open with a soft groan of hinges, revealing a smaller chamber.

The air changed immediately.

It smelled alive...yet damp, earthy, and sharp with the pungent tang of crushed leaves and sap.

It was less a storage room and more a miniature greenhouse.

Rows of shelves reached up the walls, each stacked with jars, trays, and pots holding strange herbs and materials.

Some leaves glimmered faintly as if dusted with starlight.

Others were dark, veined, and curled like the wings of sleeping bats.

There were clusters of dried stalks the color of bone, tiny bulbs glowing faintly green, and bundles of twisted roots that looked like knotted hands.

Strange powders and crystalline fragments shimmered within glass vials, carefully labeled in a handwriting so sharp it might have been carved instead of written.

Noel stepped deeper inside, brushing a hand lightly across the edge of a shelf.

By the door stood a small wooden table.

Atop it, a single object demanded attention...a circular glass plate enclosed by a cylindrical dome.

Inside was a single plant, its stem slender, its petals faintly translucent, pulsing with a rhythm like breath.

Beside it lay a notebook.

The cover was worn, the leather faded, edges fraying as though it had survived decades of handling.

Noel picked it up carefully, turning to a random page.

The ink was dense with scribbled notes, sketches of plant structures, and annotations in the margins.

He frowned, narrowing his eyes as he read aloud in a quiet murmur.

"Patient recovery rate...forty percent increase with powdered root infusion…"

"...severe side effects if dosage exceeds three drops…"

His finger slid down the page.

"Combine… crushed leaf extract with heat-treated resin…"

"...functions as stabilizer for mana erosion…"

...remarkable resilience in circulatory flow…"

Noel's brows drew together.

He flipped to another page.

"Countermeasure for mana poisoning..."

"...requires rare mineral catalyst…"

"... still unstable in large subjects."

He muttered under his breath, incredulous, his voice sounding almost clinical.

"These aren't the notes of some amateur tinkerer… this is medical research.

Precise and structured… like a physician."

He let out a quiet scoff, though his chest felt heavier the more he read.

"Wait… don't tell me…"

His hand lingered on the brittle page, his reflection wavering faintly in the glass dome beside him.

"The original Noel… was also a doctor?"

The words escaped him before he realized, echoing softly in the herb-scented chamber.

He shut the notebook halfway, staring at the plant within the glass.

His lips curled in a humorless smile, one laced with bewilderment.

"What else was this man?

A soldier, a researcher, now a doctor…?

No wonder they call him the 'Lout of Iron Deeds.'"

Noel exhaled slowly, the weight of revelation settling deep in his bones.

"His sickness…"

He murmured bitterly to himself, eyes hard.

"…the only thing people ever look down on him for."

The notebook fell shut with a muted thud against his palm.

"..."

The silence of the research room was broken by a faint ding.

Before Noel, a golden translucent system window flickered into being, hovering like a phantom in the air.

༺[Reward Available]༻

•Item: Memory Cube

Activate reward now?

[No] [Yes]

His tired eyes narrowed.

"… I forgot about the reward?"

For a moment, he simply stared, then muttered under his breath.

"Yes."

With that word, the window shimmered and the light condensed.

A cube materialized in the air, no larger than his palm, and dropped into his waiting hand with a weight that seemed heavier than it should.

It was smooth and almost glass-like.

A white Rubik's Cube...except every face was blank, save for a single blue square.

Noel turned it over slowly, feeling the strangeness of it.

"…Wait.

I can… activate this now?"

Another system window blinked into life.

______

[Memory Cube Instructions]

°Each rotation unlocks resonance.

°The blue square is the core. When aligned to the center of any face, it reveals a shard.

°Shards are echoes of memory, sealed fragments of time.

°Handle with caution: resonance may overwhelm the user.

________

Noel tightened his grip.

His fingers pressed against the cool surface, and, almost instinctively, he twisted the cube.

The moment the lone blue square slid into the center, it flared.

*Whuum!

The cube lifted from his palm, hovering before him.

Thin veins of light spread across its surface, lines tracing out new patterns.

The glow intensified, flooding the room with a cold, radiant blue.

Noel's breath caught.

His eyes never left the object as the air shimmered around him.

Then shards began to form.

Rectangular panes of light burst forth, circling around him like orbiting screens.

Each rectangle flickered images of half-formed faces, places and voices that slipped in and out of focus.

The cube spun slowly in the air, each rotation making the light grow brighter and sharper.

Rays of blue streaked across the walls, the ceiling and his skin etching everything with the blue hue.

Noel's eyes widened as the rectangles spun faster, enclosing him in a spiral of shifting memories.

Faster.

Faster.

The light became unbearable, rays breaking through the very seams of the room as though tearing a hole in reality itself.

Noel couldn't look away...to the point he couldn't even blink.

His wide eyes followed the orbiting shards as his breath quickened...

***

Claire stepped into the office quietly.

Her eyes immediately caught the half-open book and scattered papers on the desk.

She blinked.

"He's here…"

"Sir Grenn?"

She called softly.

No response.

Her gaze shifted, and then she noticed the research room door was ajar.

Her brows knit.

"…Since when was that open?"

She stepped closer, peering through the gap.

"Sir Noel…?"

Her voice caught in her throat.

He was on the floor.

Claire's heart leapt and she pushed the door wider and hurried inside.

"Sir Grenn! Are you okay?

Should I… should I get your pills?"

Her eyes darted across the room, searching.

"Where's your cane? Uhh… there's the cane..."

She moved toward the desk outside the research room to grab it when a low voice stopped her.

"Claire…"

She froze.

"It's okay."

His tone was steady, but his breath uneven.

"I'm fine."

Noel braced against the floor, struggling to get up.

Claire rushed forward, crossing from the door to the middle of the room, catching him by the arm before he could stumble again.

"Careful…"

She murmured, her voice trembling.

Noel didn't look at her.

He pulled out a handkerchief instead, quietly pressing it to his face.

"…Come on..."

He said after a pause, his voice calmer than before.

"Let's go see the club members.

We have to prepare for the first meeting."

He left her there, walking out of the research room, heading straight to the coat hanger.

With practiced ease, he slipped his coat over his shoulders.

Claire stood still by the door, her hands tightening at her sides.

Her eyes lingered on him. A thought crossed her mind, unshakable.

"…Was he crying?"

***

When they stepped outside the office Noel began talking to Claire.

His voice was low and almost casual.

"Claire, did you put up the list?"

"Yes, Instructor."

She answered immediately, a small smile tugging her lips.

"It's already pinned on the board."

"Good."

Noel murmured, shifting his cane and walking on slowly.

—

At the academy's main courtyard, a large crowd had gathered before the notice board.

The freshly pinned parchment with bold letters 'Delights Club – Accepted Members' had become the new center of attention.

"Woah, really?

Only ten people got in?!"

"Lucky them.

Imagine learning cooking from a senior professor."

"Senior professor? More like a miracle-worker.

Did you taste the taiyaki?

Even the Chancellor was there earlier!"

Students pressed closer, trying to peek at the list, while others groaned after realizing their names weren't there.

"Tch, it's just cooking...

Why are people acting like this is the Swordsmanship Club?"

"Cooking's not just cooking, idiot.

Those snacks were crazy good."

"Still… so what if they're good at making bread and pastries?

In the end, they'll just be couped up in the academy kitchen.

It's not like they'll be traveling the empire like the Exploration Club and other big clubs."

"Exactly...Think about the Embroidery Club.

What do they even do?

Nothing exciting.

No big events.

No field trips.

And yet they brag every day just because the current Crown Prince was once a member.

Alumni power, that's it...without him, the club's just decoration."

A snicker ran through the group.

"Mark my words, the Delights Club will be the same.

A little buzz in the beginning, then nothing. You'll see...

Apart from saying 'We learned under a professor', they won't have anything big to show off."

"Still, I'd rather eat good food than sit around sewing for hours."

"Ha, true...At least they'll get free snacks."

More voices overlapped, laughter mixing with envy.

"Honestly, imagine being one of those ten. What kind of connections did they use, huh?"

"Not connections...maybe just fate."

"Fate, my ass.

I should've queued earlier…"

The students kept arguing, whispering, teasing, and marveling, but their eyes stayed glued to the parchment.

Ten names that had already made the Delights Club one of the most talked-about clubs.