Ember Reborn: The Flame That Defied Fate-Chapter 49: Cursed Eyes, Clean Hands -

The first thing that hit me was the smell.

Tobacco—sharp and dry—mixed with something colder. Like steel left out in winter.

Before I even processed what was happening, a hand caught my collar and yanked me forward.

Not gently.

Not kindly.

The world tilted.

My feet shifted on instinct—

And then—

A gloved finger pressed against my lower lip.

Firm.

Like she was checking a wound.

My whole body froze.

"What—"

Elisha’s violet eyes narrowed.

Her thumb brushed the corner of my mouth once, then she leaned in close enough that I could feel the faint heat of her breath through the cigarette smoke.

Not a kiss.

Not even close.

It was worse.

It was inspection.

Like I was a suspicious artifact she’d picked up from a battlefield.

"Kyaaaaaa!!!"

A scream cut across the training grounds like a spear.

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Iris.

"What the hell is that crazy woman doing?!" Iris shrieked.

"S-Saint, please calm down!" Camilla pleaded, her voice frantic. "You can’t just charge a ranked hero—!"

"I’LL CHARGE WHOEVER I WANT!"

The cadets erupted.

"What’s going on?"

"Professor Elisha just grabbed Dale!"

"Is she interrogating him?!"

"That bastard, Dale! He’s always in trouble with women!"

"But Professor Elisha is senior to Professor Lucas... she’s like, way older—"

"Older woman, younger man—"

"Shut up, Albert," someone snapped immediately.

Albert sounded wounded. "What?! I didn’t even finish!"

I ignored them.

Because my brain had crashed.

Elisha’s hand slid from my collar to my wrist.

She lifted my arm, turning it slightly like she was checking my pulse.

Then she tapped the inside of my wrist once—right where my mana tended to surface.

A faint sensation sparked across my skin.

Not pain.

More like... a cold needle of awareness.

Mana reacted.

My Stigma reacted.

And Elisha’s eyes—

Her pupils narrowed.

Vertical.

For a split second, her gaze shifted into something inhuman.

The infamous "Cursed Eyes."

The air around her felt heavier.

The cigarette smoke curled oddly, as if it avoided her face.

"Hmmm," she hummed quietly, as if she’d just tasted something interesting.

I finally jerked my arm back and took a step away.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?"

Elisha released me without resistance and straightened her collar, unbothered.

"I told you," she said calmly. "I needed to confirm something."

"By grabbing me like a criminal in public?"

"You’re suspicious."

"Suspicious," I repeated flatly. "For beating your assistant instructor."

Vincent stood a few meters away, holding his bandaged forearm, eyes lowered. He looked more embarrassed than angry.

Elisha didn’t even glance at him.

Her attention remained on me.

"I’ve seen prodigies," she said. "I’ve seen geniuses. I’ve seen monsters."

Her eyes narrowed again.

"You don’t feel like any of them."

I frowned. "Thanks?"

"That wasn’t a compliment."

She raised her Hero Watch, flicked through my profile, then shut it again like it offended her.

"A candidate with half the mana of his peers shouldn’t be able to do what you did."

I shrugged. "But I did."

Elisha’s lips curled slightly.

"And that’s the problem."

I felt my stomach tighten.

She’s not going to let this go.

From behind, footsteps thundered.

Iris stormed into view like a holy calamity.

Her face was red.

Not from exertion.

From fury.

She shoved past the cadets, practically vibrating with murderous energy.

"Elisha Baldwin."

Elisha blinked once.

Then smiled, slow and sharp.

"Oh. The Saint."

Iris stepped between us.

"If you’re done with whatever you were doing," she said through clenched teeth, "move away from Dale."

Elisha tilted her head.

Her gaze swept Iris once—quick, surgical—then paused.

"Candidate Iris," she said smoothly. "Saint of the Holy Kingdom."

Her smile widened by a fraction.

"I didn’t expect you to be close to Class C... especially to the lowest-ranked cadet."

Iris’s expression didn’t change.

"Does ranking matter when people are classmates?"

Elisha chuckled softly.

"No. I suppose not."

"Then it shouldn’t be an issue."

For a moment, the air between them sparked.

Holy pressure versus predator calm.

Camilla hovered behind Iris, hands half-raised like she didn’t know whether to pray or tackle someone.

Elisha’s cigarette ember glowed faintly.

Then she leaned slightly—not toward Iris.

Toward me.

Close enough that Iris’s eyes widened.

"I’m not done with you," Elisha murmured.

I sighed.

"Of course you aren’t."

Iris’s hand twitched as if she wanted to grab Elisha by the throat.

"Elisha Baldwin," Iris warned.

Elisha’s eyes gleamed like she’d found a new toy.

"I said I needed to confirm something," she repeated, voice light.

"Confirm what?" I asked.

Instead of answering, she tapped her own temple with a finger.

"My blessing."

I blinked.

And then I remembered.

Insight.

In my previous life, I’d heard rumors—never confirmed, never personally witnessed.

Elisha Baldwin possessed the Blessing of Insight.

Not the kind that just "reads mana."

The kind that notices what you aren’t saying.

The kind that peels intent from expression.

Professor Lucas cleared his throat awkwardly from behind.

"Senior," he said cautiously, "maybe you could explain this without terrifying the students?"

Elisha didn’t look at him.

"Insight Blessing," Lucas continued, forced into it, "allows her to... sense and interpret the mental state of others. It’s one reason she was invited."

That made sense.

After the demon infiltration...

They wanted someone who could smell lies before they became disasters.

I exhaled slowly.

"So that’s why you grabbed my wrist."

Elisha’s smile sharpened.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And you’re still suspicious."

I stared at her.

"You’re joking."

"No."

I frowned. "Then what did you find?"

Elisha’s gaze flicked briefly to my chest—right where my Stigma sat beneath skin and bone.

Then back to my eyes.

"There’s something inconsistent about you," she said. "You move like someone who has died before."

The training grounds went silent.

Even Albert stopped whispering.

I felt my heart skip once.

Iris’s expression froze.

Lucas’s eyes widened.

Vincent’s gaze lifted slightly, sharper now.

Elisha continued calmly, as if she hadn’t just thrown a spear into my ribs.

"You’re not panicked when you should be."

"You don’t hesitate when you should fear consequences."

"And when you were about to be hit..." she murmured, "you looked bored."

My throat tightened.

That’s... too close.

Elisha’s smile turned faintly bitter.

"I can’t see everything," she said. "Not without deeper conditions. But I can see enough."

She leaned closer again—but stopped, respecting Iris’s glare like a boundary line.

"You have something," she whispered, almost amused. "Something your profile says you don’t."

My jaw clenched.

So she sensed it.

The Blessing of Revival.

Not the Primordial Flame.

Thank the gods.

Elisha straightened with a shrug.

"Whether you reveal it is your choice," she said aloud. "Hiding blessings isn’t illegal."

Iris snapped, "Stop talking like you own him."

Elisha laughed.

"Oh? Possessive."

"I’m protective," Iris corrected instantly.

"Of a low-ranked candidate?" Elisha mused, eyes sparkling.

"Of a friend," Iris shot back.

Elisha’s gaze slid to me again.

And the way she looked at me wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t even personal.

It was the way a veteran hero looks at a weapon that hasn’t decided what it wants to cut.

"I’ll be watching," she said.

Then, like she’d finally grown bored, she turned away.

"The candidate test is over," Elisha announced. "Return to class and complete the remainder of your lesson."

The cadets exhaled like prisoners released.

"W-Wait!" Iris blurted. "You’re leaving just like that?"

Elisha paused and glanced back, cigarette between fingers.

"Does the Saint want me to stay?"

Iris’s face flushed.

"N-No!"

Elisha’s smile widened.

"Then I’ll go."

She turned on her heel.

But before she could leave—

"Candidate Dale," she called without looking back.

"Yes?"

She lifted two fingers lazily, as if saluting.

"Not bad."

"...What does that mean?"

Elisha’s shoulders shook with a quiet laugh.

"Haha. Who knows?"

And then she was gone, heels clicking away, cigarette smoke trailing behind her like a warning.

Iris grabbed my sleeve.

Hard.

"Let’s go, Dale."

"Uh—okay."

She dragged me toward the classroom like she was escorting a criminal.

"Stay after class," she muttered.

"...Why?"

Her grip tightened.

"I have many things to say to you."

I swallowed.

"...Yes."

Camilla hurried after us, whispering, "Saint, please don’t start a holy war in the hallway..."

Albert shouted from behind, "DALE! TEACH ME HOW TO BE SUSPICIOUS TOO!"

"Shut up," Iris snapped without turning.

* * *

Inside the faculty office, the atmosphere was cleaner.

But the tension had followed.

Professor Lucas slumped into a chair and exhaled like a man who’d survived an assassination attempt.

Across from him, Elisha sat calmly with a cup of coffee.

Same sharp suit.

Same scar.

Same unreadable expression.

"...Why did you do that?" Lucas asked.

Elisha didn’t look up.

"Do what?"

"Grab him in front of everyone," Lucas said. "Make the Saint look like she was about to explode. Make me look like I lost control of my class."

Elisha sipped her coffee.

"I needed to confirm something."

Lucas narrowed his eyes.

"I don’t remember you enjoying theatrics."

Elisha’s lips curled faintly.

"Time changes mountains," she said. "People too."

Lucas sighed.

Then he hesitated.

"That kid," he said slowly. "Dale."

Elisha’s eyes shifted to him.

"Yes?"

"What did you see?"

Elisha set the cup down.

Her gaze became colder—more serious.

"I saw control," she said. "Not talent. Not luck."

"Control like a veteran."

Lucas frowned.

"That doesn’t make sense. He’s just—"

"A boy," Elisha cut in softly. "But he fights like someone who’s been cornered by death and learned to smile at it."

Lucas’s expression tightened.

Elisha leaned back slightly, arms crossing.

"He will become powerful," she said. "If he continues like this... he could surpass expectations."

Lucas scoffed. "Surpass expectations is mild."

Elisha’s eyes gleamed.

"Perhaps even surpass the Five Great Heroes."

Lucas stared.

"...That’s insane."

Elisha shrugged.

"Haha. Who knows?"

Lucas studied her.

"...You weren’t joking earlier."

Elisha smiled faintly, almost predatory.

"It’s natural to take interest in strength," she said. "Especially when it appears where it shouldn’t."

Lucas leaned forward, voice lower.

"But you didn’t see everything, did you?"

Elisha’s smile faded.

"No."

Her fingers tapped once against her cup.

"There’s something deeper," she admitted quietly.

"Something that burns."

Lucas’s brow furrowed.

"You mean—"

"I can’t identify it yet," Elisha said, eyes narrowing. "But if he ever fully claims it..."

Her voice dropped.

"An unprecedented monster will be born."

Lucas didn’t respond.

Elisha’s lips curled slightly again.

"And there’s no guarantee that monster will belong to humanity."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Lucas groaned.

"...Senior."

Elisha glanced at him lazily.

"What."

"I know he’s talented," Lucas said carefully, "but could you please stop provoking the Saint? You’re going to get my office turned into holy rubble."

Elisha’s eyes gleamed.

"...You’re afraid of her?"

"I’m afraid of paperwork," Lucas snapped.

A faint laugh escaped Elisha.

Then—

A metallic ping sounded in the air.

Lucas’s eyes widened.

Thin silver threads wrapped around his torso in an instant, pinning him like an insect.

He froze.

"...Senior?"

Elisha stood.

Walked over.

Placed her heel gently on his chest.

Not crushing.

Just... reminding him who was in charge.

"Any last words?" she asked pleasantly.

Lucas swallowed.

"I’m sorry."

Elisha smirked.

"Good."

The threads loosened.

Lucas collapsed back into his chair like a man released from a nightmare.

Elisha turned away, cigarette already in hand again.

Outside the office, the academy buzzed.

Inside, Elisha Baldwin smiled faintly to herself.

Because the storm wasn’t just moving anymore.

It had found its center.

And it was starting to enjoy the hunt.