Under a sky where the night has yet to fully retreat, a dawn tinged with pale blue slowly soaked through the glass window.

A rose blooming in a corner of the garden bowed its head under the morning light, and a cool breeze quietly shook the dew clinging to the tips of the leaves. Every scenery was beautiful, but to Aaron, it was meaningless.

Seasons had bloomed and withered countless times, and humans had met and parted repeatedly. It had been so long since he had felt such things that the current sight was closer to a scene with no inspiration left.

On the desk, an open grimoire and parchments filled with dense calculations lay in disorder. To others, it was merely a collection of indecipherable, cryptic characters, but in his eyes, they formed an order like a brilliant constellation, and only the sound of the nib scratching the paper filled the silent room.

Time flows for everyone, but to him, time was not something that flowed, but an object to be manipulated. People called it talent and praised him as a genius.

It was laughable, but the word 'talent' was a name far too cheap and hollow compared to the emotion of solitude he was experiencing.

Then, suddenly, his fingertips stopped. Clack— the sound of the door being roughly opened without a knock, as always, reached his ears.

His brow slowly furrowed. The presence seeping into the room was no longer unfamiliar, but that didn't mean it was welcome. Rather, the very fact that he had become accustomed to it grated on his nerves.

Humans were beings one should never get used to. Because it was a foolish thing to become accustomed to a presence while knowing they would leave at some point.

"When exactly are you going to fix that habit of entering someone else's room without knocking? I believe I told you I have no need for a disciple who lacks the concept of learning."