Three days had passed since receiving the letter. That night——sitting on the floor of his room, pressing his ribs while staring at the ceiling——a single line of text had been looping endlessly through Yahata's mind. *Hair roots are shackles. Trace the source.* Grandion's ultimatum was closing in. Activate the magic within three days, or face forced hair growth punishment——permanent revocation of honor as a mage, a social death. There was no method. No magical aptitude. But that single sentence indicated something else: "there exists an alternative basis." The answer lay in the Sealed Root Archive——the underground library of the Bald Crown Institute——where the original texts of forbidden theory slept. So tonight, Yahata had decided to break into the Tonsura Academy library. That was all. His life depended on it. There were no other options. End of story. （……So it's not like I'm not scared. That's not what this is. It's more like the feeling of just walking into a dungeon in a game.） In the dead of night, the stone corridors were dark, with magical candlestands casting orange light every few meters. Yahata moved slowly along the wall, mapping the route in his head. Three corners to the library entrance. Two guards. The day he'd sparred with Karen in the third episode——he'd unconsciously observed the guards' patrol patterns then. A habit honed from training ground traffic. In game terms, a scout's passive skill. They'd turn back seven seconds after rounding a corner. Seven seconds of blind spot. First corner. Wait. Footsteps fade. Seven. Run. Second corner. Wait again. Run again. Third corner——this was the problem. The point where two guards crossed paths. One second off timing and he'd run straight into them. Yahata pressed his back against the wall, killing his breath. The crack in his ribs groaned. It hurt. But no sound escaped. Couldn't escape. Footsteps crossed and faded. Now. He ran. --- The library door was locked, as expected. （I don't have lockpicking skills or anything. Don't even know if this world has that kind of skill.） But Yahata's attention wasn't on the lock——it was on the door's hinges. Stone buildings were old. Moisture had rusted the fixtures. The hinges had significant play——he'd noticed it on the first day when he'd used the library. Like a flag in a game marking "something's here if you investigate." He grabbed the door's edge with both hands, pulled diagonally upward while pushing inward. An unpleasant creaking sound. His heart jumped. ——But no one came. Once more. This time putting his weight into it. With a dull *thunk*, the door frame shifted slightly. A gap opened. His body could fit through. He was in. （I'd like to say "yes," but——） The moment he entered, shelves flew into his vision. In the darkness, his sense of distance was off. Yahata's forehead nearly smashed into the edge of a bookshelf——he stopped just in time. The recoil sent three books sliding silently down from the upper shelf. He caught them both arms. Caught all three. No sound made. Except that posture——drove directly into the crack in his ribs. （ぁあ゛——っ） A voiceless scream died in his throat. Only his face fully expressed the agony. He held back tears while quietly returning the books to the shelf. Got them all back. Perfect. Perfectly stupid, but perfect nonetheless. --- The forbidden section was in the back of the library, cordoned off by iron bars. A padlock secured it. But Yahata wasn't looking at the lock here either. The memory from the other day——when the librarian had opened the key and peered inside——the way the door opened. The position of the upper hinge. The frame's warping. This old building had weaknesses too. He grabbed the iron bars' edge and pulled downward at an angle with force. The frame tilted outward. A little more. A little more. With a small *clang*, the hinge-side frame came loose. The bars opened at an angle. He slipped through. --- The back of the forbidden section was silent. He pulled out a small magic stone——the kind that glowed orange when touched, the academy-issued portable light——and covered it with his palm, emitting only minimal light. The spines of books on the shelves came into view one by one. Most were ancient magical theory texts. Old editions of the Bald Crown Codex, official records of the Great Hair Loss War, Consumption Faction Theory Compendium——. None had their reasons for prohibition written. They simply existed. Sealed away. A bundle of parchment caught his eye. "Great Hair Loss War Post-War Processing Records——Classified." Yahata pulled it out and opened it. He began reading. At first, the archaic writing style was hard to parse, and it took time to extract meaning. But several pages in, his hands stopped. The text——the facts it indicated——began taking shape in Yahata's mind. （Wait. This is……） The Great Hair Loss War from roughly two hundred years ago. Recorded in history as an internal conflict between the Consumption Faction and the Preservation Faction over ideological differences. But this document contained different records. A record, written plainly and bureaucratically, of political machinations deliberately orchestrated by the nobility of the Regnum Kingdom at the time——the predecessor to the Magical Council. The value system of "being bald means being great" had never existed from the start. The nobility had feared mages' power. If individual mages became too strong, the system would crumble. So they engineered the civil war. Divided them into Consumption and Preservation factions, made them cast spells at each other, and implanted an ideology into the survivors: "depleting your hair roots is proof of strength." As a result, mages began voluntarily depleting the source of their own power. Consuming finite resources was designed to function as "virtue." The Bald Crown Codex, the Tonsura Academy's entire educational system——all of it was built on this lie. （In other words, all players are applying a debuff the devs installed. Making themselves weaker while believing they're playing a game to get stronger——） He couldn't laugh. He wanted to laugh. But couldn't. He'd transmigrated to another world, been called the Mirror Crown, thought maybe "the story could be different"——but he'd arrived at a place built on lies too. （Is it funny that I transmigrated into a world of lies? Or is it that I feel like I have to destroy this?） He didn't know himself. Only the parchment in his hands felt genuinely heavy, and with each page turned, another layer of lies peeled away. That's when he heard a faint sound behind him. --- He turned around. Someone stood at the entrance to the forbidden section. School uniform. Deep purple semi-long hair. Silver eyes. Those eyes——were wavering. Anger and confusion and something else entirely mixed together, wavering without settling. It was Arishia. "[cold]I came to stop you" Her voice trembled slightly. Yahata simply looked at her in silence. （Stop me, huh. So she could just scream. Then the guards would come. I'd be caught. It'd be over. So why isn't she screaming?） Yahata didn't know that Arishia's mind had been looping through that night ever since. The night Grandion threatened her with "if you're complicit, I'll destroy your entire house name," she hadn't slept. The words Yahata had muttered alone on the rooftop, the voice that answered "both" without hesitation in the hallway, the back that kept accepting Karen's attacks without magic in the training grounds——none of it would leave her head. If he was telling the truth. If she abandoned him. That question had tormented her all night. "[serious]If you want to scream, scream. Then it ends" He spoke quietly but directly. "Just look at this first" He opened the parchment bundle before her. He wasn't forcing anything. Just——look at this before you decide. That was all. Arishia hesitated for a moment, her hand pulling back. But then she began reading. The first few pages just made her frown. Her face prepared counterarguments, a rational denial. But as the pages progressed, her expression changed. Her brow relaxed. Her mouth opened slightly. The writing was too specific. Nobility names, dates of operations, procedures for opinion manipulation to create division——it was all there. The kind of specificity that couldn't be written into fiction. The color drained from Arishia's face. "[sad]It's a lie……" A sound barely audible, barely a voice. "Father……Grandfather……everything they protected……built on lies……?" Her hands holding the parchment trembled. White fingers gripped the edge tightly. Yahata said nothing. There were no words to say. He couldn't say "yes" or "no." She could only receive the facts that existed there. The pain of it——there were no words Yahata could touch her with yet. They didn't exist. Arishia's lips began to open——at that moment. *CRASH!* The forbidden section's door was kicked in from outside. --- Three men burst through. Black and gold embroidered robes, more than fifty percent of their scalps gleaming——Crown-rank mages, Grandion's subordinates. The one in front, carried by momentum, crashed into a bookshelf. *Thud-thud-thud-thud*, an avalanche of books came down. He let out a pathetic sound as he was buried. But it was only a moment, and the other two were already moving. "[cold]Secure him" They grabbed Yahata's arms and pressed him against the wall. He didn't resist. Couldn't——no magic. The crack in his ribs remained. Resisting now would just break the bone. （Thinking clearly, I'm completely cornered.） Arishia was about to be restrained——when the third mage, crawling out from the book avalanche, pulled a parchment from his pocket. "Wait. Direct written order from Academy Director Grandion. Return the daughter of a noble house to the dormitory under surveillance——those are the instructions" The hand reaching for Arishia's arm stopped. She was pulled away. Down the corridor. Arishia was led toward the dormitory. At that moment, she turned back. Yahata turned back too. Their eyes met. Less than a second. Yahata said nothing——he didn't think he had the right. Arishia couldn't say anything either——there was too much to say, and no words came. Arishia's lips moved slightly. There was no sound. Yahata couldn't hear what she was trying to say. He only sensed from that movement that she was trying to say something. She turned the corner. Her purple hair disappeared. --- The underground cell was stone and damp. Walls, floor, ceiling——all the same gray stone, with groundwater seeping from cracks, stains spreading. A single candlestick was fixed high on the south wall, unreachable. The air was heavy. A peculiar coldness hung there. When Yahata was thrown in and fell to his knees, three Crown-rank mages entered. "[cold]Who put you up to this" Silence. "[cold]Answer" Still silent. One of the three placed both hands on his head. Began chanting. A low, short incantation. Yahata didn't know what that gesture meant——had no time to learn. Heat ran through his entire body. Ran——or rather, reversed. Magical power normally released outward from hair roots was forced back inward toward his body. It seeped out through every pore like tearing skin. Blood. Fine, fine lines of blood appeared simultaneously across his entire skin. （ぁ——） Something broke in his throat. No voice. Not from a judgment that making sound meant losing, but because sound simply wouldn't form. There was a kind of pain that outpaced language, and Yahata learned it for the first time then. "[cold]Fake Mirror Crown. Know your place" When one finished, the next began chanting. Hair root reversal technique——a torture method that reversed magical power emission from hair roots, making blood seep from pores. Repeated. Three of them in turn. Fine lines of blood continued running across Yahata's entire body. When it ended, he wasn't sure. When he realized, the three were gone. Only