“Is it really Senior Diret?”
Actually, Ihan hadn’t asked with any great certainty.
He’d just been talking and Diret had suddenly come to mind, so he asked.
But when the other person stopped answering out of the blue, doubt hardened into certainty.
Who’s that?
“Ah, so it really is Senior Diret.”
This time, when Ihan didn’t reply, the other side wrote a few more lines.
There was an odd flustered tone to it, as if the person were babbling for no reason.
I don’t know who that is, but throwing out a random name to probe someone isn’t a good habit...
“Senior. It’s me, Wodanas. I’m Wodanas — the one who shared rations from the punishment cell. That Wodanas.”
Silence again.
Ihan briefly regretted his words.
Maybe I should’ve just pretended to be Moradi.
Thinking back, calling out a senior’s mistake as a junior was a poor habit.
Sometimes you must play ignorant; that’s how you stay a favored junior.
Why’s a first-year even able to get hold of an artifact like this...
Diret finally gave up and admitted it.
The handwriting on the note looked unusually weak.
Diret added more explanation about the artifact for Ihan.
It must be drawing power from the surroundings because it needs a lot of mana.
That’s why it can’t move...
You said you found it in a storage room used by a graduate?
“Yes.”