Matt is an ordinary young college student with an addiction to the pages of The Golden Weaver’s First Apprentice. This novel wasn’t just a hobby for him, it was his lifeline, the one thing that kept him feel alive when the rest of the world felt unbearably dim. Page after page, chapter after chapter, he followed the journey of the Finster, a character he cared for more fiercely than anyone else, even his family or himself.

When the long-awaited final chapter was released, Matt devoured it with trembling anticipation. The writing was flawless, every thread tied together, every arc resolved with masterful precision. It made sense. And yet, when he reached the final chapter, his world collapsed.

It was a tragedy.
A selfless sacrifice.
One life given to save countless others.
A "Bitter-Sweet" ending, the community called it. 

Matt was devastated. He raged at a world—both fictional and real—that could demand such a price from a character he loved so deeply. “I hate bad endings,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

As though responding to his grief, his phone flickered. A soft light bloomed across the screen, forming words he had never seen before, yet somehow he understood it.

How do you think it should have ended?

Stunned, confused, barely conscious of his own voice, Matt answered from the depths of his heart:

“I would be there for him. I’d support him, be his anchor—his start and his release. His companion. His ally. I owe him at least that much.”

The light paused for a long, breathless moment.
Then it replied:

Don’t fail this time.

And Matt’s world began to change.

That was the rhythmic, aggravating sound of Professor Medley's finger constantly banging against the surface of the cold steel desk.


He was intensely reviewing the internal surveillance recording of what had transpired outside the Trackfield Three changing rooms. 


With a flick of his wrist, he used precise wind magic to levitate the remote control, pressing the replay button once more. 


Every single time he did, the holographic screen showed nothing but a chaotic wall of static black and white waves. 


The feed only cleared up at exactly 10:42 PM—barely a minute before I had burst through the locker room doors myself.


"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhh...." Medley released a long heavy sigh.


Chapter 98 - Culprit hunting(2)