Chapter 37: Dust

Mirror Demon.

Xueqiu instinctively looked at her palm.

For months, she’d been trying to learn this Contract called ‘Mirror Demon.’

Of course, Academy rules strictly forbade using Contracts on campus.

Even if a student broke the rule, they’d likely fail to activate anything.

The reason? The principal’s own Contract.

A barrier or ward protected the Academy from Youdu’s influence while suppressing the Contracts of thousands of students and staff.

Xueqiu had never tried using ‘Mirror Demon’ on campus, fearing both rule-breaking and failure.

She could only practice in designated areas, like the small room on the library’s top floor.

Even then, she had to register each use, limited to thirty minutes per session.

Still, what she practiced wasn’t truly her own Contract.

Following Carlos and Chang Yi’s advice, she’d used ‘Mirror Demon’ to mimic Chisaki Takanotsume’s S-rank Contract, ‘Hakutaku.’

“‘Mirror Demon’ is a 21st-century discovery. I bet you understand it about as well as a fish understands a bicycle. Even we haven’t fully cracked its underlying logic,” Ling Jiming said, leaning against the counter.

As he explained ‘Mirror Demon’s’ origins, he rummaged through kraft folders, tossing three or four sheets that floated to Xueqiu’s feet.

Xueqiu didn’t get why his tone was like a parent reading a bedtime story while his actions were so rough—like a boar rooting through garbage for fresh cabbage.

She bent to pick up the papers, glancing at their contents.

Title: Lühe City Unnumbered Contract Investigation Report

Authors: Gu An, Xia Qingyun, Xing Shaosheng

Xueqiu softly read the names, carefully handing the yellowed pages to the principal.

He glanced at them, then practically jumped with excitement, like a student who’d found a prized document.

“Yes, this is it! Let’s see what it says.” His silver-gray prosthetic hand pressed firmly on Xueqiu’s shoulder.

“In 2004, our Lühe City branch reported a Shadow Ghost breach. The Academy dispatched S-rank Pivot Xia Qingyun and A-rank reserve Pivot Xing Shaosheng to assist…”

Xueqiu read only that line before the principal snatched the paper back.

“No, no, I messed up. You’re just a freshman—too early for this,” Ling Jiming said with a sigh. “Chang Yi explained ‘Mirror Demon’s’ origins, right?”

Xueqiu nodded.

“It was discovered twenty years ago, but it existed before then. Back then, we had a new student,” he said.

“With limited tech, Chang Yi couldn’t identify the Contract at first, labeling them a ‘Contract-less’ student with an F-rank evaluation.”

“F?” Xueqiu thought she’d misheard.

Was there a rank below E?

“Only near graduation, during an annual check-up, did we find an anomaly.”

“Their Shadow Gene concentration was low, just 10%, but their Contract response was clear.”

“After extensive tests, we confirmed it was a never-before-seen Contract.”

Ling Jiming spoke without pause, and though Xueqiu tried to keep up, she felt she missed something.

“It was named ‘Mirror Demon,’ from Chinese folklore—a creature that peers into hearts through mirrors, also implying copying.”

Xueqiu wasn’t uninterested in the old man’s chatter, but he hadn’t gotten to the point, as if starting from the Big Bang.

“Oh, I forgot—you’re a freshman. I should stick to the main stuff,” Ling Jiming said with a smile. “Is ‘Mirror Demon’ a strong Contract for you?”

“It can only copy simple Contracts,” Xueqiu said.

That was true. Initially, she’d tried copying Xia Yin’s ‘Yinglong’ Contract.

After half a month, she’d made no progress and somehow owed him a dozen late-night snacks.

“That’s right. Looks like you’ve thought it through,” Ling Jiming said. “But have you considered why we stopped researching ‘Mirror Demon’?”

Xueqiu fell silent, not unwilling to answer but stumped by the question.

“Senior Carlos said… it didn’t yield progress?” she said softly.

“Research was halted ten years ago. Lack of results was one reason. The other…” Ling Jiming trailed off.

Xueqiu looked up at the tall old man, who was staring at the snow-white ceiling.

“Because everyone researching it died.”

“Died…?” Xueqiu flinched, though her face stayed blank.

Showing shock was pointless, like grieving her parents’ deaths—useless.

She recalled the three names on the report, none familiar.

“Was it them?” She pointed at the rolled-up report in his hand.

“Don’t overreact. Researchers died of illness years ago. This report’s about something else.”

Something else?

Xueqiu recalled Xia Yin’s words: “You know less than one percent of what’s going on.”

He was right—she was a new student, clueless about the truth behind things.

“They were great students. Xiao Feng too… I should’ve…” Ling Jiming’s tone grew odd.

“I’ve changed my mind. Go back for now. We’ll have tea another time.”

In seconds, his quirky old-man demeanor turned solemn.

He’d brought her to the archive vault but sent her away after less than twenty minutes.

Luckily, Xueqiu wasn’t one to pry.

She nodded, lowering her gaze.

“I understand. Goodbye, Principal.”

Ling Jiming didn’t respond.

Leaving the vault and entering the elevator, her journey was smooth.

She’d thought to test her student card’s access, but the elevator ascended without needing a swipe.

Was that it?

Leaving the library, Xueqiu glanced back.

Why had he suddenly dismissed her? She didn’t know—couldn’t know.

She’d only glimpsed the report’s cover and opening lines.

Why?

Xueqiu didn’t dwell on it, as a more pressing matter hit her.

She’d been gone too long for a trash run. Would Xia Yin come looking?

And about joining Ou Ziyun’s investigation team—she was still undecided.

In a way, she needed someone to decide for her.

Right now, that could only be Xia Yin.

With that, she quickened her pace.

The wind brushed her cheeks, unknowingly stirring a web woven twenty years ago.

ps: Forgot to set the time…