A coffee in hand, Vanitas flipped through the pages of the research document he was studying.

"Bitter," he muttered. "Got anything better?"

"This is a clinic, not a coffee shop," Yves replied while operating one of the machines nearby. "And because of you, coffee beans are expensive now. Hell, everything’s running short these days."

Since people in the countryside were refusing to move goods into the capital, transportation of supplies had nearly frozen altogether. Coffee beans, wheat, medicine, livestock, and countless other necessities were now difficult to acquire.

The roads had become dangerous.

After all, merchants were afraid of rebel ambushes, while rebels themselves feared retaliation from the loyalists. Even ordinary civilians had begun hoarding supplies out of paranoia, driving prices higher with every passing week.

The Empire was slowly strangling itself.

"And whose fault is that?" Yves added with a glance.

"Depends who you ask," Vanitas replied calmly as he continued flipping through the papers. "The rebels blame the nobles. The nobles blame the rebels. The church blames sinners. The sinners blame the church."

"And you?"

Vanitas took another sip before grimacing at the taste.

"I blame incompetence."

Margaret, who had been staying at the clinic ever since she became wanted alongside Vanitas, peeked through the doorway.

"I’ve received word," she began. "The attack on the warehouse last night was a success. The supply route connected to the Marquess faction has been completely cut off, and several of their affiliated merchants have already gone into hiding."

Vanitas continued reading the documents in silence.

"The loyalists moved faster than expected," Margaret continued. "By dawn, they had already seized the remaining stockpiles in the eastern district. Some factions are beginning to suffer ammunition shortages."

"Mm."

"However..." Margaret hesitated slightly. "Civilian unrest is getting worse. Food prices have risen again, and there were riots in the lower district this morning after bread shipments failed to arrive."

Yves clicked his tongue from the side.

"At this rate, the capital itself is going to implode."

"It won’t," Vanitas replied calmly.

Yves frowned. "And what makes you so sure?"

"Because people are predictable."

Vanitas turned another page.

"As long as they believe tomorrow will still be better than today, they’ll endure almost anything."

"And if they stop believing that?"

"Then they revolt."

The room fell quiet for a moment.

Margaret slowly stepped inside before placing several new documents onto the table.

"There’s more," she said. "Some of the rebel factions have started accusing each other of leaking information after the warehouse incident. Internal conflicts already broke out in two districts."

Vanitas finally looked up.

"Good."

Margaret paused slightly at the coldness in his response.

"The more divided they become, the easier they are to control," he continued. "Fear spreads faster than loyalty."

Yves let out a dry laugh. "You’re really hell-bent on pushing everyone to their limits. Well, whatever. I still have your guarantee, don’t I?"

Vanitas took another sip of coffee before setting the cup down.

"Of course," he said. "As long as you keep your head down, no harm will come to you, Yves."

"That sounds less reassuring the more you say it."

Vanitas ignored the remark and reclined in his seat. "In times like these, people only begin to understand the value of certain things once they’re gone."

"...."

"When society functions properly, people take it for granted," Vanitas continued. "They complain about costs, about regulations, about procedures. But the moment war begins, the first thing they beg for isn’t gold."

His gaze shifted toward the operating room deeper within the clinic.

"It’s someone capable of keeping them alive."

The essential art of civilization was maintenance.

It was not the kings, not the nobles, nor the revolutions, but the people who kept society functioning behind the scenes, such as those treating disease, transporting supplies, maintaining infrastructure, and ensuring the world continued moving forward.

To Vanitas, those people were the ones truly holding civilization together.

Margaret quietly watched the two from the side while Vanitas picked the documents back up.

"In any case," he continued, "once this is over, people like you will become more important than ever. Wars don’t end when the fighting stops. The aftermath is always worse."

Yves clicked his tongue.

"...Sounds like more work," he muttered. "I left the hospital for that very reason."

Vanitas let out a quiet scoff before taking another sip of coffee.

"And yet you still ended up running a clinic."

"...."

Yves couldn’t argue with that.

Why couldn’t Vanitas just keep his mouth shut?

"Anyway, come here," Yves said. "It’s time for your daily conditioning."

"Sure."

Vanitas set everything aside and stood before stepping into the machine. Moments later, the examination began once again.

Beep—Beep—Beep——

Every time Yves read through the scans, he would instinctively grimace before quickly correcting his expression whenever Margaret looked his way.

"...."

At the very least, he couldn’t let Vanitas’s fiancée become even more worried than she already was.

...Because quite frankly, Vanitas’s condition was critical.

He had pushed his body far beyond its limits. The fact that he was still capable of moving around at all was already a miracle in itself.

Just the other day, Yves had spent hours restoring nutrients into his body simply to stop him from looking like a walking corpse.

While he had managed to restore Vanitas’s youthful features somewhat, there was nothing he could do with his decaying body.

Tomorrow, Vanitas would look like a corpse again.

As the analysis finished, Vanitas sat up from the machine.

"So?" he prompted.

Yves quickly gestured toward the doorway where Margaret was peeking from, only for Vanitas to cut him off.

"It’s fine," he said. "I promised Margaret I wouldn’t hide anything from her. Whatever you need to say, just say it."

"Got it..."

Yves swallowed deeply before speaking.

"The Mana Core Degeneration has already entered its final stages. I can’t give you an exact estimate, but with proper treatment and enough rest, I can probably extend it to around a month at best."

Vanitas nodded. Margaret bit her lip.

"Your legs have already started showing signs of decay," Yves continued. "The fact that you’re still walking is honestly abnormal. At most, I’d say you have a few days left before mobility starts deteriorating rapidly."

Vanitas nodded. Margaret clenched her fists.

"In around five days, you’ll likely begin experiencing partial paralysis below the knees. After that, the symptoms will spread upward. Your nervous system is already failing to relay signals properly, which explains why you barely register pain anymore."

Vanitas remained quiet. Margaret felt goosebumps crawling all over her skin.

"Your mana pathways are also collapsing," Yves added. "Every time you forcefully circulate mana through your body, it’s causing internal damage. At this point, your body is essentially destroying itself just to keep functioning."

"And the coughing?"

"Internal bleeding," Yves answered immediately. "Your organs were already under too much strain to begin with. But now, the blood loss has reached a point where your body can’t even produce blood fast enough to compensate anymore. And once it worsens..."

He stopped himself there.

There was no need to continue.

Even without hearing the rest, everyone in the room already understood.

Yves lowered his gaze toward the scans again before speaking more quietly.

"I’ll be honest, you should already be dead."

Vanitas simply nodded.

By then, Margaret had fully entered the room.

As Vanitas attempted to stand, Yves suddenly noticed the mana circulating around his legs.

"You..."

Vanitas stood as if nothing was wrong, casually brushing the dust from his coat.

"Yeah," he said. "It’s been a week since I lost movement in my legs."

"...I see."

That answered everything.

Yves had been confused by how the readings completely contradicted what he was seeing. According to the scans, Vanitas should have already been bound to a wheelchair by now.

What Vanitas had been doing was manually guiding his legs through wind magic, forcibly controlling movement by circulating mana through them like artificial nerves.

As for how he was still capable of using magic at all, even Yves couldn’t explain it.

But the overwhelming amount of mana radiating from Vanitas, even while standing at death’s door, already gave him part of the answer.

If anything... his magic was becoming stronger.

There was once a theory stating that when one of the senses deteriorated, the others compensated and enhanced it. For example, blind individuals developing heightened hearing, or those who had lost their limbs, became more sensitive to pressure and movement.

Vanitas’s condition felt similar in principle.

As his body continued to fail, his mana seemed to be compensating in return, growing denser and more prominent as if trying to forcibly keep him alive.

At least, that was Yves’s theory.

"I’ll see you again tomorrow," Vanitas said before turning away.

"Wait."

"...?"

"The Archmage in the other room," Yves said. "She might wake up tomorrow."

"Is that so? Keep me informed, then."

With that, Vanitas casually left the clinic as if there was nothing wrong with him at all.

* * *

"Fuck...! Who the hell’s banging on the door this early in the morning?!"

At an hour when the moon had yet to fully disappear, and the sun had barely begun revealing itself over the horizon, Anastasia rushed down the stairs as loud banging echoed through the mansion.

"If it’s those damned loyalists again, I’ll burn them along with this whole mansion. Which psycho even—"

The moment she opened the door, she paused.

"Ah? Professor?"

Standing there were Vanitas and his fiancée, Margaret.

"I’ve come to pick up the boy."

Anastasia stared blankly for a moment before rubbing her head with a groan.

"Fuck... did you really have to do this at sunrise, Professor?!"

"There isn’t much time before Franz delivers his speech," Vanitas replied. "Where’s Kafka?"

"In his room. Wait, just come inside already."

With that, Anastasia led the two deeper into the mansion before bringing them upstairs toward the room she had designated for the boy Vanitas had left in her care, Kafka.

Opening the door, they were greeted by the sight of Kafka fast asleep.

With his delicate features, the boy barely looked like a boy at all. At first glance, one could easily mistake him for a little girl.

"Boy. Hey, boy. Wake up already, goddamnit!"

Anastasia repeatedly poked his cheek while pestering him awake.

Slowly, Kafka opened his eyes.

"Miss Ana..." he muttered groggily before blinking a few more times.

Then his gaze landed on Vanitas.

"Mister Vanitas..."

"Let’s go," Vanitas said. "I’ll need your help again. Surely you’ve rested enough."

"...."

Kafka’s gaze shifted between Vanitas, Anastasia, and the beautiful woman standing beside him before finally settling back on Vanitas.

"...Okay."

* * *

The second layer of the Dragon Bones’ seal proved far more difficult than the first. Nevertheless, with Kafka’s help, Vanitas managed to piece the fragments together little by little.

The moment the final pieces aligned, the scenery shifted once more.

———!

The space around them was swallowed in white before gradually reshaping itself into something resembling the Joseon era again.

——The second layer, huh? I didn’t think you’d actually make it this far.

And once again, Archmage Zen appeared before him.

At the remark, Vanitas frowned.

"You’re the last person I want to hear that from."