After our paths diverged at the gate with Christian heading to programming and me to physics. While walking to the correct building and then half-heartedly listening to a lecture topic that I had long been familiar with, I kept chastising myself for my lack of restraint. I was relieved that I had managed to keep my mouth shut, limited myself to an eloquent look. But even so, how childish! I had behaved foolishly, needlessly provoking the Japanese noble.

True, then on the bench, he "stepped on my toes." But was that reason enough to stoop to his level? And was it wise to earn an enemy among the clansmen? Certainly not - I had other problems through the roof. In the future, I would need to maintain neutrality around Sugawara. As for my look... well, perhaps he'll think he had just imagined it. Regardless, I resolved to act less recklessly in the future.

Following physics was mathematics, where our small group convened in its entirety. After that, we headed to dinner. The Scandinavian, as usual, opted to sit separately, but neither Christian, Claire, nor I minded this anymore. We had grown accustomed to our classmate's quirks.

Engaging in casual chats with my fellow students dispelled my heavy thoughts and kept me in high spirits till the end of the school day. Observing Christian's failed advances on Claire and her subsequent rebuttals was entertaining in its own way. It was refreshing to have such companions with whom I could forget, even if momentarily, about my responsibilities as a Break Knight tasked with saving the world. It was something I sorely needed. After the day's classes, I headed straight to my dorm.

"Oh!" Mr. Redtliff greeted me at the entrance to the dorm, "The 'Balls of Steel' student is making quite a career!" The superintendent winked, noticing the "Count's" insignia on my badge.

"I do have some skills," I replied with a grin.

"Anyone else might have doubted it, but not me," he said, patting me on the shoulder in a fatherly manner. "People like you may seem quiet, but there's always something unexpected up their sleeves," he twirled his finger in the air.

"I assure you I mean no harm," I clarified, just in case.

"Of course!" he replied, the smile on his face suggesting he meant otherwise. "Go on, I won't keep you. Go get some rest."

I headed to my room and heeded the superintendent's advice. Right, I must also remember to be wary of this Mr. Redtliff. Would seeing Gabriel's insignia deter him from trying to recruit me as his informant? I couldn't be sure, but I needed to be cautious around him; he was an observant man. And definitely not a fool.

After taking a brief respite following my classes, I awaited sunset and, upon shifting into the Break, proceeded to the Abode of Knowledge. Naturally, I had sent a message to Zanh Kiem beforehand and received his approval.

Having met me at the meditation site as usual, the first thing the Maker attempted was to coerce me into drinking his poison. The one that, by misunderstanding, is considered tea. In retaliation, I delivered a few swift bokken strikes to his lower back during our training session. Regrettably, I observed no improvement in my Fan of Probabilities proficiency level. Furthermore, my head throbbed after hours of sword practice, more so than the previous day.

"So, you felt as though the entire universe was converging into a singular point?" Zanh Kiem sought confirmation after we finished training, and I had relayed the specifics of the Breakthrough from my perspective.

"Yes," I responded with a nod, "But that's merely a subjective recollection."

"And you only regained consciousness while plummeting into the sea?"

"Correct... However... I can't shake the sensation that something else transpired between those events. It feels like an itch at the back of my mind."

"But these 'memories' have only left behind the scent?"

"The smell of hand cream. I can't identify the brand, but it was pleasant, neutral, and subtle. What's worse, it seemed familiar."

"Why 'worse'?" queried the Maker, rising and approaching me. "Perhaps you experienced a vision from a previous life. That's not uncommon with reincarnates like you. Sit still, don't move, relax." Having said this, he positioned his palms on my temples from behind. "Don't move; breathe evenly. Remember that scent."

It felt as though my head was first heated and then abruptly chilled. The rapid transition from warmth to cold sent shivers running down my spine.

"It's alright," the sensum reassured, applying slightly more pressure to my temples.

I experienced a few more waves of feverish chills before the Maker withdrew his hands from my head.

"So..." he pondered aloud, distancing himself from me and pacing alongside the parapet. "To clarify, your memory is genuine. It's not a hallucination. And in this memory, there's something else besides the scent, but I couldn't discern what." He snapped his fingers as though an idea had struck him. "Stay here for a moment; I won't be long."

The sensum departed from the site, returning in mere minutes. In his hands, he held a folder containing blank sheets of paper. He sat across from me, placing one sheet on the tea table.

"Place your hand on it," he instructed. "Oh... Don't be so paranoid!" Zanh Kiem growled, observing my hesitation. "It's just regular prana-sensing paper."

I recalled it: Melanie had brought home a few sheets, as she sometimes deluded herself into believing she was a latent sensum. Unfortunately for Izao's mother, this was nothing more than wishful thinking, and she never succeeded in transferring the images she conjured in her mind onto the paper through sheer willpower. I rested my palm on the pristine surface, and the sensum promptly pressed it down with his hand.

"Close your eyes. Relax. Breathe in time with me. Here... Good... Focus your attention solely on the tip of your nose... As if nothing else exists in the universe... Good... The hand cream... Its pleasant scent... Smell it... Remember..." Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, he flicked my nose. "Don't drift off!"

"Eh?" I blinked, rubbing my nose.

"Let's see the results."

The Maker leaned over a sheet resting on the tea table. The paper was far from its original snow-white, an image of sorts now adorned it. I examined it. It looked like a Van Gogh enthusiast had created it under the influence of potent substances. Irregular spirals of black and dark blue, accentuated with streaks of gold, converged towards the center of the sheet. Staring at them for too long induced dizziness. But that wasn't all. It appeared as if someone had left claw marks on the left and right edges, tearing the spiral lines which bled at their breaks. And the crowning touch of this absurdity was a dog's nose, depicted with photographic precision, right in the center.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Um-m-m..." I looked up at the sensum. "If this drawing is taken from my mind, the world is in grave danger. Its salvation is clearly entrusted to a lunatic. I can handle the spirals, but a dog's nose..."

"Relax," the Maker dismissed my words. "This is nothing more than a projection of subconscious associations... And trust me, your result is relatively sane."

"Really?" I was still skeptical.

"Really." Zanh Kiem affirmed. "Though, it seems this drawing didn't provide us much. Any associations?"

I took another look and shook my head.

"No, none."

"Well, alright." The sensum seemed unbothered. "No worries, this trick doesn't always work."

"Are you sure?"

"Do you think I'd lie when you're wearing the First Angel? It's specifically tuned to detect the lies of the Gifted."

"You didn't mention that before."

"Doesn't matter." Zanh Kiem changed the subject. "And it's not a dog's nose, by the way." He pointed to the center of the sheet.

"Then whose is it?" To me, it looked canine.

"It's a fox's nose. I can't identify the exact subspecies." He scratched the bridge of his nose. "But it resembles a cross fox."

"A cross fox?"

"It's a subspecies of foxes, known for their distinctive coloration... And don't give me that look. My head is so crammed with knowledge that even I've forgotten what I learned and what I didn't. When I get some free time, I'll look it up in the reference books." The sensum explained, sliding the sheet into a folder on the table.

"How did it go with Rock and Maya?" I asked, pouring plain water.

"With the former, quite formally. He respects me but clearly doesn't like me. He perceives me as a rival for the Knights' minds." Zanh Kiem chuckled. "Can't blame him though, he's not wrong. But we'll manage to work together; it's not our first rodeo. My initial impression of him, which I shared with you, seems to be accurate. That is, you can trust him, but only to a certain extent."

"I remember."

"Good, you should remember," the sensum nodded seriously. "As for Maya, it's complicated."

"I'm not surprised," I shrugged. "She was very close to Tu Chong."

"It's obvious." Zanh Kiem rubbed his nose, visibly annoyed. "I knew him too, so I managed to connect with her on that level. Or... at least I think I did. You should keep an eye on her. She seems to think the weight of the world is on her shoulders. That's too heavy a burden even for you and me..." I understood him perfectly. "She's going to crack soon. We need to divert her attention."

"And how would we do that?"

"Confess your love to her."

"Wha-a-a-at?!" I almost dropped my cup.

"Not as Maestro, but as Izao."

"Why-y-y-y?"

"Even though she's beautiful and adored by millions, guys are just too scared to approach her. Especially after she stabbed some fool in a duel. No matter what, she's still a girl. This could divert her attention and break her fixation on Knighthood."

"I, as Izao, make her want to bash her head against a wall."

"That's not bad either! We don't need her to fall for you, just to shift her subconscious focus onto something else. Let her be furious and irritated with you - isn't that a distraction?" The sensum shrugged, but I couldn't tell if he was joking or serious.

"By the way, speaking of irritation..." I attempted to change the subject. "I almost lost it for no reason."

"Think about it," the Maker smiled kindly, ignoring my comment. "Sure, you'll have to endure some mockery, but what matters more to you?"

"Go to hell..." I almost growled back.

"I'm actually serious," Zanh Kiem maintained eye contact. "This is the easiest way. And the fact that Maya gets irritated and furious with your civilian persona is even better."

"I'll consider it..."

"There's no need to send me that far. No, I don't read minds. It's all written on your face. I just want what's best."

"You want what's best at my expense," I clarified.

"Can't deny that," he shrugged. "Alright, let's drop it. What were you saying about your irritation? The last thing we need is for you to have a nervous breakdown... that would be the icing on the cake." He scratched the bridge of his nose again. "And then mine, on top of that... Why are you looking at me like that? I'm not made of steel either."

I informed him about my encounters with Ketsu Sugawara, including my intense internal response to the Japanese's fair critique of my mediocre sketching skills. The Maker listened attentively, never interrupting me. He then poured himself a cup of "tea" and, after taking a long sip, appeared to smile with relief.

"I thought it was something serious... This is quite a typical case."

"Typical?"

"Yes. You maintain your composure while interacting with me, the curators, and the nobility. Trust me, not many people can do this. You remain cool-headed in combat and crisis situations. But... people aren't machines." His words instantly reminded me of the vice-admiral's lecture. "You also need an outlet. Knighthood, Breakthroughs, reincarnation, the First Angel, the Door you must find... All of this was thrust upon you, and you didn't ask for any of it. Yet, as far as I can see, you shoulder it all without bending too much under the weight." Was that a supportive smile on the sensum's face, or was it just my imagination? "However, you also need something that's truly yours. Something that isn't imposed on you by the world, circumstances, or fate. Something that you have personally chosen." The Maker gazed at the star-filled night sky. "You wanted to contribute something unique to this world. To tell your story, even if it's through pictures. This is your own desire, not forced upon you. That's why Sugawara's words stung so deeply. Everyone has their vulnerabilities, and this is yours. Now that you're aware of it, just be cautious. Other than that... it's okay. Your reaction was perfectly human."

Did I really want to bring something of mine into this world? I just wanted to retell someone else's tale, that was it. Someone else's... And then it hit me why I had been unsuccessful, why all my storyboards ended up being subpar. Because he was absolutely right! My true desire wasn't to rewrite the Battletech books, but to create something original inspired by them! The universe of giant mechs had lodged itself in my mind because it also had a division between the truly born and the ordinary people, just like this world with its clansmen and commoners. The parallel was striking! The plot began to form in my mind in bursts of vivid, colorful images that made me want to reach for a pencil immediately. My hand was practically twitching with anticipation.

"As for the Sugawara, I have some familiarity with that clan," Zanh Kiem continued, drawing my immediate attention. "However, I don't recall hearing of a Ketsu. He's likely from a lesser branch, certainly not the main one, or I would have remembered. Regardless, it's wise not to engage in conflicts with him; the Japanese are notoriously conservative... and vengeful."

"It seems I have already managed to do just that. I'll aim to exercise more restraint in the future," I responded somberly, then added, "After all, he is right: in terms of artistry, I'm rather mediocre."

"Artistry?" The Maker's voice was laced with blatant surprise. "Are we discussing brushes, pencils, and such?"

"What else could it be?" I was perplexed by his question.

"Holy heavens!" Zanh Kiem laughed heartily. "Why on earth do you need those crutches?"

"Eh?" I was utterly confused.

"Hold on." He pulled out a sheet adorned with spiral lines from his folder and pushed the rest towards me. "Consider this a gift."

"What for?"

"Sometimes you exhibit such intelligence, and at other times you're so... oblivious," the Maker theatrically slapped a hand against his forehead. "This is..." he enunciated each word, "...Prana... Sensitive... Paper... And... You... Have... Awakened... Your... Spark..."

"And...?"

"How exasperating you can be! Take a sheet. I'll teach you how to use it! You're all wide-eyed now!" He moved around the table and seated himself next to me. "Place your hand on the sheet..." I followed his instructions. "Close your eyes. Envision in detail what you wish to draw. Then, connect with your Spark and channel this vision through it. Finally, transfer the Spark into your palm and release it onto the paper."

This proved to be far from simple, as moving the Spark into my palm was a formidable challenge. It took me about thirty attempts. Evidently, Zanh Kiem was a natural instructor, and under his guidance, I eventually succeeded.

"Open your eyes," directed the sensum.

I complied and looked down. Damn...

Beneath my palm lay a perfect replica of Ketsu Sugawara's drawing, except it was rendered in full color, even more vibrant than the original. In my amazement, I found myself forgetting to breathe.