Chapter 1253

Kanna gasped for air. Her eyes opened again. Their gazes met. Yuder didn’t look away and asked directly:

“Who said that just now?”

“...What I was trying to read was who threw these things away and why. So... those were the thoughts and judgment that lingered from the person who discarded them.”

The one who discarded the items was Yuder’s grandfather.

He had already guessed that his grandfather threw the objects into the incineration bin to hide the fact he had once been a mage. But the information Kanna had just read felt far colder than expected.

‘The owner,’ huh...

After a moment of silence, Yuder slowly asked again.

“Is it possible to read the relationship between the person who discarded the items and their original owner?”

He already knew the answer. They were the same person.

But Kanna didn’t know that yet.

“No... I can’t. That was actually what I wanted to read most—how the person who discarded these things originally came to possess them. But no matter how much I tried, that part stayed blurry. All I could pick up were complex emotions... too tangled to describe.”

Kanna shook her head with a faintly apologetic look.

But even that alone was enough for Yuder to draw a conclusion.

Kanna had assumed that the person who discarded the items and their original owner were different individuals.

She had made that judgment so naturally that she hadn’t even questioned Yuder’s phrasing.

And for someone like Kanna Wand, who could read even hidden truths from the lingering energy of objects, to interpret it that way—it meant something.

It was time to tell her the truth and have her try again.

“Kanna. There’s something I didn’t tell you before.”

“What is it?”

“These items you’ve just read in a row—they are indeed my grandfather’s keepsakes. But they weren’t something he passed on. He threw them away, into a burn bin. I was only able to bring them here because someone else pulled them out before they were destroyed.”

“...Wait, then...”

“Yeah. The person who owned these things and the one who tried to discard them—they’re the same person. I already knew that, but I wanted to see how your ability would interpret it.”

Because—

“I remember my grandfather as a very ordinary man. But now, I’ve begun to suspect that at some point, he lost all of his memories and became someone else entirely. Not just amnesia—there are too many strange things for it to be that simple.”

Yuder reached over and opened the notebook Kanna had her hand on earlier. The torn page had left a faint central space. The next page was thick with charcoal.

It was Kishiar and Yuder who had blackened it—hoping to uncover the imprint left from the torn page above.

Kanna’s gaze locked on the faintly revealed letters over the charcoal.

Airik, current 38th Emperor, mage, Melach Cantinto.

It was clumsily written, likely jotted down in the year of the accident. The words clearly held meaning, though they couldn’t be the full contents of the missing page. Residue marks usually linger strongest on the final page pressed against the missing one.

Those letters had sparked Yuder’s initial suspicion that his grandfather might not merely have forgotten something—but might’ve been someone entirely different.

“Explaining it all would take too long, so I’ll summarize. A long time ago, there was a mage who suffered an accident and miraculously survived—but afterward, he completely changed, as if he’d become a different person. It wasn’t just memory loss. He insisted he was someone else entirely.”

“So... you think your grandfather was one of those cases too?”

Kanna frowned, asking seriously.

“Yeah. And if there’s precedent, there’s no reason it couldn’t happen again.”

“...But when you were living with your grandfather, was there ever anything strange?”

“Never. I never even imagined he had anything to do with magic.”

“That’s... definitely strange.”

“I wouldn’t blame you for thinking I sound completely out of my mind.”

It was a hard story to believe, after all.

But Kanna, unexpectedly, shook her head with conviction.

“I don’t think that at all. Sure, it sounds like something out of legend. But the information I just read wasn’t fake.”

“......”

“The accident I read just now... it really happened. The owner of those items was at the scene—tried to save someone—and met their end there. I can’t say with 100% certainty that they died, but there was enough to strongly suggest it.”

If that owner was truly Yuder’s grandfather, it made no sense.

She had read that the person likely died, yet Yuder knew that his grandfather survived and even raised him afterward.

“At first, I thought maybe the original owner of the accident-tainted items wasn’t your grandfather. That’s why I tried to dig deeper into the one who discarded them. But now I get why you asked me to do this. Of course, it had to be a secret.”

Kanna smiled, having fully grasped Yuder’s intention.

“Yuder, I believe in your judgment for coming to me, in the Commander’s choice to support you, and in my own ability. Since I became Vice Commander, those are the three things I decided I’d never doubt. And now, knowing that my power might be the only one that can help you... it’s actually really exciting and meaningful.”

She tapped the center of her chest, over her heart. As Yuder saw the determination and trust in her expression, a wave of emotion rose in him—difficult to name.

“Alright. Now that I know more, let’s go again from the top. That’s what you intended, right? You had me read without any prior info to see what I’d pick up.”

“...That’s right.”

“Then... where should I start? Should I try focusing more on the person who discarded the items? Or something else?”

“Anything that might support the theory I mentioned—whatever you can find.”

“Got it.”

Kanna rolled up her sleeves. Her expression was firm, her breathing steady with resolve.

“This time, I won’t hold anything back. I won’t filter the readings—just take it all in. That means it’ll take a lot longer, and I won’t be able to talk while it’s happening.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“Eh, we’re in the Cavalry. This much danger is nothing.”

She said that like a veteran soldier in the final stages of war, completely unfazed, then placed both hands back on the open notebook Yuder had laid out.

“I won’t faint—but a nosebleed might happen. So don’t be shocked, alright? If you touch me before I give the signal, it could disrupt the process and cause backlash, so just watch until I say it’s okay.”

Yuder was about to tell her not to do it if it would cause a nosebleed, but Kanna had already closed her eyes.

—Fwaaaah!

From the start, the shimmer of power was intense. Her hair whipped around as if caught in wind, her half-lidded eyes bloodshot, hands trembling as if her bones were going to pop through her skin. Her lips moved, murmuring rapidly—too quiet to understand.

“...No. No, not that. Not that either... I already know that. Too soon. Too late. That’s not the time. Go back—further... no, earlier...!”

She looked like she was issuing commands to some invisible force.

The shimmer around her deepened, distorting the very space around her. Inside that swirling distortion, Kanna grew paler and paler.

Countless invisible pieces of information must’ve been crashing into her mind.

And then—

“...Found it...”

Plop.

With a faint whisper, blood spilled from Kanna’s nose.

She collapsed sideways.

Yuder quickly caught her.

‘I need something to stop the ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) bleeding—’

“Here.”

Before he could even turn his head, Kishiar was already there, holding out a handkerchief.

“Kanna hasn’t ended her ability yet. I think I can make contact using my power to minimize backlash. Could you give me some space?”

Kishiar reached toward Kanna. A force invisible to the eye pushed aside the shimmering energy effortlessly. He gently wiped the blood from her lips and jaw, then covered her nose to stop the flow.

That’s when Kanna finally opened her eyes.

She blinked wide, startled by her Commander hovering so close—but didn’t say a word. Still dazed, her gaze drifted to Yuder.

“...I think I found the answer from the torn notebook page.”

She whispered faintly.

“Yuder, like you said... it was someone else. Definitely.”

That meant—

“I read someone... someone lost in pain and confusion, who no longer remembered who they were.”