Failed.
No matter how many times he tried, his beautiful teacher Cynthia Delaroche couldn't wake up and smile back at him.
Siren's tears, Dragon Blood, and even now with the Philosopher's Stone, nothing could raise her from the dead.
He had searched all over the world and had even almost waged war for his master. The beautiful woman, who was lying weakly in a wooden coffin, had dark purple hair. Her face was covered by a transparent white cloth, and her eyes were tightly closed as if she was just fast asleep.
"Cindy..."
Henry called out his teacher's nickname. The man raised the woman's cold and pale soft hand while kneeling by the side of her coffin.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered.
As Henry, who was kneeling with his back to the hall door, began to feel a pang in his chest consuming every cell in his body, he heard the door behind him violently open.
CRASH!