308 Accomplished

"Teacher! Please stay with us, Teacher!"

Yamada-kun was the first to move.

Yamada-kun rushed to the teacher, who had collapsed from the chair, and checked their condition.

The teacher’s eyes were wide open, tears streaming down their face, breathing irregular and ragged, their body convulsing in unpredictable spasms.

Attempting desperately to regulate their breath, yet visibly suffering—was this hyperventilation?

Yamada-kun lifted the teacher’s upper body, applying a healing spell.

But in this world, healing magic only restores damaged tissue. It does not cure illness.

Whether hyperventilation counts as illness is unclear. But it is clear healing magic cannot treat it.

"Move aside."

Shoving aside Yamada-kun, who could do nothing but invoke healing magic, I peer into the teacher’s eyes.

Then, activate the cursed gaze.

It exerts an effect opposite to its usual function.

My cursed gaze induces fear in whatever it observes.

This indicates it acts upon the target’s mind.

I have never attempted it, but if fear can be induced, then theoretically, restoring calm should also be possible.

The teacher, having looked into my cursed gaze, convulses once, violently.

Yet the large convulsions cease after that.

Still, breathing remains irregular, and minor tremors persist.

“Teacher, calm down. Breathe deeply.”

I speak slowly, gently, avoiding any stimulation of the teacher’s mind.

The teacher follows my instruction and inhales.

“Breathe out slowly. Do not panic. Keep your breathing steady.”

I speak clearly, calmly, carefully, guiding each word like a ritual.

“Inhale… exhale… inhale… exhale…”

As I guide the breath, the teacher’s state gradually stabilizes, though slowly.

I hold the teacher’s hand tightly throughout.

Breathing steadies, but tears continue to fall uncontrollably.

Shudders—spasms—still ripple through the body, intermittent, as if from deep internal strain.

The face is soaked with tears and nasal discharge.

I wipe it with the sleeve of my robe.

But the wetness returns immediately.

The teacher continues to cry for a time.

As an elf, the teacher’s physical development is delayed. Compared to other reincarnated individuals, the teacher appears younger.

In appearance alone, this scene—this raw, unrestrained weeping—feels natural.

Yet to the reincarnated, this sight must have been a shock.

The teacher was the only adult among the others.

Despite appearances, combined with their past and present lives, the teacher had lived longer than any other reincarnated individual.

That adult, now so openly unraveled, without shame or restraint—such a scene could not have been imagined.

I had not imagined it either.

"Alright. It's alright."

I wrap my hands around the teacher’s small back, stroking slowly.

"You are not wrong."

I repeat it softly.

"Nothing about fighting for your students with your life at stake could be wrong."

I notice Kitagawa shifting uncomfortably, looking away.

My gaze remains on the teacher, but I already know—without focusing—because I have always perceived my surroundings through my ability to see through solid matter.

I understand that Kudo has suspected the teacher based on past behavior.

But Kudo does not know—has not witnessed—the extent to which the teacher struggled, desperately attempting to save the students.

Nor does Kudo know that, upon learning the truth about why the reincarnated were gathered—because Potimas used them—this revelation was so grave it caused the teacher to collapse.

I, too, was mistaken about that.

I never expected the teacher to fall.

I believed the teacher would endure, even after knowing the truth.

"Potimas was indeed ruthless. But the teacher has always strived honestly for everyone’s sake. That effort was never wrong. Look—everyone is alive. We are together."

I speak softly to the teacher, whose sobs do not cease.

It is true the teacher was used by Potimas. Yet many reincarnations were saved by the teacher.

This world is harsher than Earth.

I do not know how many times I have nearly died. Vampire Child and Oni-kun faced the same.

Still, we were merely fortunate.

We should have died.

It was the same for other reincarnations. Unless born into the privileged class, like Yamada-kun, life was always a step from death.

Perhaps half of us would not have survived had we not been protected by the teacher.

And only because reincarnations gathered here, in this elven village, could we act without hesitation against Potimas.

The outcome justifies the means. The teacher has no reason to suffer.

“N-no… not all of us!”

The teacher cries out, voice breaking.

“I… was not… saved! I… I was not saved!”

A cry that made one wonder if this was what wailing truly meant.

Weeping, fragmented, the voice never raised high.

And yet, why did it resonate so deeply?

Indeed, someone absent is present here.

Sakurazaki Ichinari.

Kogome Naoki.

Hayashi Kouta.

And Natsume Ken-go.

Beyond the sleeping Hasebe, others are missing—those who have not returned.

Those who will never return.

The teacher feels the weight of their deaths.

I have nothing to say about that.

But I believe the responsibility lies in the wrong place.

Their lives were theirs.

Their deaths were theirs as well.

The teacher bears no obligation for their deaths.

Perhaps the teacher believes they might have been saved—but there are limits to what a human can achieve.

To attempt to save everyone is an act of Pride.

One cannot save all unless they are omniscient and omnipotent.

I cannot do it either.

The teacher continued weeping like a child.

Why couldn't I save them? For what purpose?

Muttering such things like a delirium.

Time passed—how much, it was unclear—and the teacher finally ceased crying.

But the eyes were vacant. No vitality remained.

"Shiha-san."

Kushiyama, who had silently observed the scene, spoke to me.

"The teacher seems exhausted. I’ll take them to rest. We can’t burden them further. I’ll watch over them. You go ahead and continue the conversation."

The proposal was exactly what I wanted.

Leaving the teacher alone now would be unwise.

Ideally, I’d stay by their side—but abandoning this place to care for them is not the optimal course.

The students likely harbor complex feelings toward the teacher. Leaving them unaddressed in that state is not viable.

In contrast, Syrilis has only recently arrived at this elven village. He should be able to assess the teacher without emotional bias.

He is one of the few reincarnated individuals capable of handling combat. No other candidate is as suitable for this task.

The Vampire Child is out of the question. Oni-kun, though male, would be unsuitable for tending to the teacher.

"Can you do it?"

"Leave it to me."

Syrilis lifted the teacher into a princess carry.

Meeting eyes with Tawara, he ascended the stairs without pause.

Syrilis is reliable. Leaving him in charge is acceptable.

Even if the teacher attempts suicide, he should be able to prevent it.

After the teacher and Syrilis exited, an awkward silence filled the space.

After seeing the teacher’s condition, it should be impossible not to understand how seriously the teacher had protected the reincarnated.

The reincarnated individuals, led by Mr. Kudo, were blaming the teacher.

Perhaps, seeing the teacher’s state, they felt remorseful.