That night, dinner in the downstairs room consisted of thick stew with pieces of meat and indeterminate vegetables, along with black bread. The taste was ordinary, but filling. Kieran sat in a corner, observing the other inn occupants—several merchants like them, some laborers, a man in worn clothing who was perhaps a storyteller. Their conversations revolved around wool prices, complaints about new taxes, and rumors about wolves in the northern forest.

  No one mentioned strange magic, the academy, or blue light.

  Just after the tower bell rang ten times, they returned to the room. Kieran checked the crystal container once more. The bud still bent in the same direction—precisely toward the Academy towers.

  He slept with a mind that continued working, processing every detail of that day, comparing it with his already outdated memory map. Frostpeak was alive. That was already a small victory. But behind that life, something else was also alive—and it breathed with a regular pattern.

  The following morning, they parted in the inn's courtyard. Rhen drove the cart with a small portion of the goods toward the River District. Kieran and Mira walked northward, following streets already busy with morning activity.

  "First, we need a basic map," said Kieran, directing them toward an intersection where a vendor was selling simple leather scrolls with city maps. Kieran bought one, then they sat on a bench near a small public drinking fountain.

  "[Cartographic Analysis: Overlay with Mana Mapping]," Kieran murmured quietly, Tier 3. He spread the map in his lap, while his magical perception layered it with energy concentration data. The result was clear: the center of magical gravity was at the large complex marked on the map as "Frostpeak Academy of Arts and Natural Philosophy." The surrounding area was the academic district, with dormitories, libraries, and scholar residences.

  "So that is where the heart of it is," said Mira, looking toward the north.

  "Perhaps. But be careful. The Academy is a guarded place. Entering without a clear reason will be suspicious." Kieran folded the map. "We will walk around it, observe from outside."

  The journey toward the academic district was like entering a different world. The streets became wider and cleaner, the buildings made of finely hewn stone, with glass windows. The atmosphere was calmer, though still busy with people dressed in plain robes or fine clothing—scholars, students, and perhaps young nobles. Kieran felt more eyes glancing over, full of assessment.

  When they drew close to the high stone fence surrounding the Academy, the mana concentration became almost physically tangible. The air felt denser, more "sweet" to magical perception. Kieran had to actively suppress the urge in his young body to breathe deeply, like inhaling the aroma of delicious food.

  "[Sensory Limiter: Filtering of Excessive Mana Input]," he murmured to himself, Tier 2. The pressure eased. He looked at Mira, whose face was slightly pale. "Breathe slowly. Don't let the current pull you. Imagine yourself as a stone in a river—let that energy flow around you, not through you."

  Mira nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, her expression was more controlled. "This… is extraordinary. Like standing near a large bonfire, but the fire is invisible."

  They walked along the fence, pretending to admire the architecture. Kieran noted everything: the guard post at the main gate (two armed guards, cleaner and more alert than the city gate guards), the flow of people entering and exiting by showing medallions or letters, the tall windows of the main building which were likely lecture halls or laboratories.

  Then, he saw it. On the eastern side of the complex, near a lower building with a wide chimney, there was an area cordoned off with yellow ribbon. Several workers were repairing a section of the roof that appeared damaged. From a distance, Kieran could detect chaotic magical residue—traces of a small explosion.

  "Do you see that?" he whispered to Mira.

  Mira followed his gaze. "Damage. Is that…?"

  "Perhaps the 'accident' we heard about." Kieran slowed his steps, activating [Hindsight: Vision of Last 5 Seconds] Tier 2 repeatedly, collecting visual snapshots of the area. Nothing suspicious at the moment. Only routine repairs. But the magical residue… there was a sharp metallic taste, like burnt ozone after lightning. That was a sign of spontaneous and uncontrolled energy release.

  They continued walking, turning into a quieter small road that circled the back of the Academy. Here, the mana concentration was even stronger, as though originating from underground.

  "There is a basement," murmured Kieran. "A storage space or restricted laboratory. Likely that is where the Heartstone or its source is located."

  Suddenly, a small door in the fence opened, and a group of three people came out. They were wearing the loose robes of scholars, with silver collar marks indicating seniority. The middle-aged man among them was speaking in a firm voice.

  "… and I emphasize, repeating the experiment without modifying the parameters is a waste of resources. The incident report from yesterday was clear—instability occurs when the mana-to-catalyst ratio exceeds 1.7. You must start over from the basics, beginning with…"

  They passed Kieran and Mira without paying attention, absorbed in their academic argument. But Kieran caught the rest: "… the core sample still shows fluctuations. Until we stabilize it, no more laboratory-scale experiments, especially those involving first-year students."

  When they were far enough away, Mira drew a breath. "Core sample? Fluctuations?"

  "Confirmation," said Kieran calmly. "There is something in there that is unstable. Something they call the 'core sample.' Most likely it is the Heartstone, or a fragment of it." He turned, making sure no one was watching. "[Residual Recorder: Subtle Environmental Sampling]," he murmured, Tier 3.5. He extended his hand as though brushing dust from his robe, but was actually collecting magical residue particles floating in the air near the fence. The particles were stored in a small spatial pocket in his robe for later analysis.

  They spent another two hours circling the academic district, then switched to the River District market to meet Rhen. The market was a sea of people, tents, shouts, and color. They found Rhen in a relatively quiet corner, his cart surrounded by several potential buyers examining herbal bundles.

  Rhen was negotiating with a middle-aged woman about the price of a salve. "… two copper pieces per jar is indeed standard, ma'am. Look at the quality—made with pure beeswax and fresh silverleaf, not old leaves."

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  The woman eventually bought two jars. After she left, Rhen saw Kieran and Mira, nodding subtly. Several minutes later, after serving a few more buyers, he announced he would rest for a moment and covered some of his goods with cloth.

  "How did it go?" asked Kieran, sitting on the bench near the cart.

  "Sales were decent. People are interested, especially in the salve and calming tea. But there is something more interesting." Rhen lowered his voice. "Two different people asked whether I had 'stabilizing' or 'energy-absorbing' materials. They did not mention specific names, but from the description… it sounded as though they were looking for something to neutralize magical explosions."

  "Explosions?"

  "Yes. There are rumors among the merchants. A week ago, there was a small explosion at the Academy. No one was seriously injured, only several scholars thrown, bruised and in shock. But according to them, the explosion was strange—no fire, only blue light and a low rumbling sound. Several glasses in the nearest dormitory shattered. The Academy called it a 'common chemical experiment accident,' but a few people who claim to have relatives inside said it was misdirected magic."

  Kieran nodded. Consistent with what they had seen. "Did anyone mention 'core' or 'stone'?"

  Rhen furrowed his brow. "One person, a buyer earlier wearing a plain robe, said something about a 'temperamental heart stone.' I thought it was local slang, but now…"

  "Heartstone," murmured Mira.

  "It seems so." Kieran looked toward the Academy towers. "So, they have a Heartstone, possibly unstable, causing accidents. They are trying to stabilize it, perhaps with herbal materials or rituals. And they are looking for help at the market."

  "Should we offer help?" asked Mira.

  "No. Too direct. But this gives us a reason to be near the Academy. Tomorrow, Rhen can offer 'general calming remedies' that might help ease the side effects of energy explosions—something that sounds plausible to non-mages but not suspicious."

  Rhen nodded. "I can say I have a remedy made from moonlace flowers—the little we brought for ourselves. Say it calms the nerves and reduces dizziness."

  "Good. But don't go directly to the Academy. Spread it around the market that you have it. Let them come to you."

  They spent the rest of the afternoon with Rhen returning to sell, while Kieran and Mira explored more of the market, listening to conversations. The news of the explosion was indeed circulating, but as trivia, not headline news. City life continued. Kieran noticed several city guards who appeared to patrol the academic district more frequently, but there was no state of emergency.

  As dusk approached, they gathered again and returned to the inn. Kieran locked the room, then took out the magical residue samples he had collected.

  "[Residue Analysis: Signature Decomposition]," he murmured, Tier 4. He felt pressure at his temples as the magic worked. The particles in the air opened in his mind like a blooming flower, revealing their composition. There was a deep and pure earth element signature—typical of Heartstone. But there was also distortion, like cracks in a crystal. And what was more interesting, there were other traces adhering to it: a faint conceptual signature. A symbol. But not complete—like an echo of something larger.

  He could not extract the full symbol. Too faint. But it was there. And it felt similar to the pattern from the previous symbols.

  "There is a connection," he said to Mira and Rhen who were watching. "The Heartstone here is contaminated or influenced by the same thing that influenced Memory Spring and the other locations."

  "Is it the same symbol?" asked Mira.

  "Not exactly. But… a sibling. As though originating from the same source." Kieran stored the sample. "Tomorrow, we need more data. Rhen, spread the rumor about the moonlace remedy. Mira and I will try to enter the public library or city archives. Perhaps there are records about the discovery of the Heartstone or unusual magical activity in this area."

  That night, after dinner, Kieran stood at the window again. Frostpeak City shone with the light of lanterns and fireplaces, a living painting defying the darkness of his memories. But from the direction of the Academy, he could feel it—an irregular pulse. Like a heart beating erratically.

  He felt the crystal container in his pocket. The bud still pointed there.

  The second day in Frostpeak began with a fine drizzle that turned the road dust into thin mud. Rhen went to the market with a new strategy. Kieran and Mira headed to the "Frostpeak City Archives," a two-story stone building near the town hall.

  The archive was open to the public, though visitors were rare. The archive keeper, an old man with thick glasses, only nodded as they entered. The interior was dusty and quiet, with tall shelves containing leather scrolls and thick-bound books.

  "What are we looking for?" whispered Mira.

  "Mining records, unusual mineral discoveries, anomaly reports in or around the Academy area. Also, the construction history of the Academy—perhaps its foundations were sunk into something that already existed." Kieran swept the shelves with his eyes. "[Text Scan: Detection of Temporal and Magical Keywords]," he murmured quietly, Tier 3. His ability was limited—he could not read all the books at once, but he could sense the "echo" of words that frequently appeared related to the concepts of time or magic. He felt a pull from a shelf in the corner, labeled "Local Records & Annual Reports."

  They spent several hours there. Kieran found a scroll about the construction of Frostpeak Academy, two hundred years ago. The notes were ordinary—funding from nobles, design by a renowned architect. Nothing unusual. But in the appendix section about site selection, there was a brief note: "Location was chosen due to the existence of 'an unusually solid and uncommon rock foundation,' allowing the construction of tall towers without the risk of subsidence."

  "An unusually solid rock foundation," murmured Kieran.

  Mira, who was examining mining record books, found something. "Here. Seventy years ago, there is a report of the discovery of 'deep blue crystals' in an old mine on the mountain slopes north of the city. The mine was closed as it was deemed uneconomical, but the crystals were stored in the 'Academy's curation room' for study."

  "Deep blue crystals," Kieran repeated. That could be a description of a low-quality Heartstone. "Is there a follow-up?"

  Mira turned the page. "No. But there is a footnote: 'Specimen transferred to underground storage of the Academy Complex in year 43 of the Aldrich Reign.' That is… around fifty years ago?"

  So, the Heartstone (or something similar) had been at the Academy for at least fifty years. But why was it only active now?

  They left the archive when the sun was already high. The rain had stopped, leaving the air fresh and cold. As they walked back to the Eastern District to meet Rhen, they passed through the market again.

  And that was when Mira saw her.

  At a stall selling laboratory glassware and glass instruments, a woman was standing. She appeared to be in her late twenties, with light brown hair tied loosely, wearing a practical scholar's robe that was slightly frayed at the edges. In her hand, she held several bottles containing colored liquids, and her eyes—grayish green—were examining a catalogue with an almost ravenous focus. Around her, several baskets contained various roots, leaves, and dried flowers that were not mere ordinary herbs, but materials with a faint magical signature that even Mira could feel from ten steps away.

  The woman bent down, smelling a bundle of silvery blue leaves, then nodded with satisfaction before handing them to the merchant. Her movements were efficient, full of precision, and there was an aura of intellectual absorption that was almost visibly tangible.

  Mira froze, staring. She recognized her from Kieran's description, from the way she carried herself, from the light of curiosity in her eyes.

  Iris Valmont.

  Kieran, who was walking beside her, felt the change in Mira. He followed her gaze, and his own body stiffened for a moment before perfect control took over. He said nothing, only observed.

  Iris finished her transaction, placing the bottles and materials into her large leather bag. She then turned, and for a moment, her gaze met Mira's. There was no recognition, only ordinary eye contact between two strangers at a busy market. But Iris's eyes paused for a moment, slightly longer than usual, as though recording something—perhaps the tension in Mira's posture, or the way Mira was staring at her.

  Then Iris averted her gaze, giving a brief and polite nod to the merchant, and turned to leave, walking down the alley between the stalls, disappearing into the crowd.

  Mira exhaled the breath she had not realized she was holding.

  Beside her, Kieran stood motionless as a statue, his eyes still fixed on the direction where the woman had disappeared. Inside, his old sardonic voice echoed: Exactly as I remember. Still like a kitten finding a new toy in a pile of refuse. But there was a dull ache accompanying that thought—memories of Floor 89, of muffled screams, of failure.