Farewell. (2)
Rain pattered down. Plip, plop... plip, plop...
A cold wind tugged at her clothes.
The fine mist settling on her shoulders thickened into a steady drizzle.
Her hair grew sodden, rainwater pooling at her chin before dripping onto the pavement.
Yet Julie did not stir.
She still waited for Deculein at the entrance to the Yukline estate.
"...".
As if signaling the end of that vigil, a car approached from the distance, cutting through the sudden downpour like a squall.
Screech—
The tires halted on the water-slicked road. Julie stared at the vehicle.
The door opened, and Deculein stepped out.
He needed no umbrella. The rain couldn't pierce his telekinesis.
Step by step.
Splash, splash.
Step by step.
Splash, splash.
He approached through the pooling water and looked down at her. His gaze was icy, the dispassionate stare reserved for a tool whose usefulness had run dry.
"Julie. I told you your escort duties are concluded."
Deculein's voice was merciless.
Gone was the man who had once promised a smile once a month, who vowed to change for her sake.
"...Professor."
Julie clenched her teeth until they ached. She looked up at him through strands of wet hair.
"I've heard everything."
"What."
"What you said to Lady Yuseffin—"
"Eavesdropping is a new hobby of yours, then."
Deculein wore a look of genuine contempt. Julie felt a stab pierce her heart.
He spoke.
"With every passing moment, you grow uglier."
"...".
Emotion drained from Julie's eyes. Deculein's scornful gaze reflected in their hollow depths.
"Was it all...".
Now, it was over.
So she thought.
There was no room for excuses.
"All of it—an act? A mere mask?"
Her voice squeezed out in agony. A final plea, hoping against hope for denial.
At that trembling question, Deculein twisted his lips.
"It was arrogance to think I might change for the likes of you. Was it not?"
"...Ah."
Julie parted her lips halfway.
The words she had prepared, the questions she had rehearsed—they swirled in her mind and vanished.
A hollow laugh escaped unbidden.
"Ha. As expected... of you."
She balled her fists. Rage surged from her heart.
No— she had been the fool for believing in him all this time.
He was Deculein. No one else. More loathsome than any, more vicious than any...
"I'll tell the world! How Veron died! Why he had to die by your hand!"
Deculein's brow furrowed for an instant. Then he sneered, lips curling.
"You'll regret it."
"I won't."
"...".
"To think I believed in you until now... what an idiot I was."
Rain—or tears—trickled down Julie's cheeks. No one could tell.
Deculein regarded her steadily.
"Very well. Then I shall look forward to it."
He nodded with cool impassivity.
Deculein passed her and entered the estate. Julie glared at his retreating back.
Whoosh...
The torrent hammered her body relentlessly. A monsoon cloaking the world in haze. Amid the splashing mist, Julie stood rooted for a long while.
"Please leave now. By the master's order."
Her secretary, Ren, approached and spoke. Julie turned without a word.
"...".
Her heart throbbed with splintering pain, but it was bearable.
She could endure this much.
No—she could overcome it...
The pre-dawn hours, when thick darkness devoured the land.
Endless rains filled the air with nature's symphony.
Drip— plop— splat—
Droplets scattering on leaves, shattering on pavement, whipped by the wind... each with its own rhythm.
With the Iron Man's sharpened senses, I discerned them as I peered into the Frost Stone.
The Frost Stone's comprehension advanced rapidly. Half a year remained, perhaps.
In that half-year, I would...
—My lord. Everything's ready~
Yuseffin's voice echoed from somewhere. I glanced at the crystal orb on the side table.
—Just say the word, and the knights will crumble~
"...Understood."
—Perfect, my lord.
"You call me lord no longer."
—Hee hee.
The transmission cut off with her laugh. The more I thought on it, the more she seemed a deranged sociopath.
"...".
I gazed into the darkness beyond the window.
Soon, the Phraheim Knights would fall. And Julie would return to her homeland, Phairden. There, she would hate Deculein—more than anyone.
And so it would continue...
Eternal Winter.
This is Julie's independent scenario alone. The orthodox path to ensure she survives.
I closed my eyes calmly.
Moments ago, I had endured bone-chilling cold and parleyed with a giant. Yet casting Julie aside pained me more.
Still, it was tolerable.
As reward for dismantling the ghost castle, I gained 'Mental Fortitude.' A mere +1, but added to my superhuman resolve, it was no trifle.
Like a brimming cup, one drop could make it overflow.
One more point in Mental Fortitude, and perhaps even Sophien's regression could be withstood once.
Thus, the Rare Trait Catalog weighed on my mind now.
No—I forced my thoughts that way.
The most prominent trait was Resilience. It simply boosted mental fortitude and endurance.
Enhance my mind with it, or acquire something else useful...
More time was needed.
Squandering the reward immediately would be foolish.
Then.
—Hey.
Another voice called. Ihelm this time.
—You listening?
President Adrienne had given us these orbs, insisting we 'compete in good faith while communicating.'
—Saw something odd on the Floating Island. Hey. You gonna speak or what?
I took the orb in hand.
"I hear you."
—Yeah, alright.
Ihelm chuckled. No idea what was so funny.
—Ifrin was on the Floating Island.
"Mages visit the Floating Island often enough."
—Nah, the weird part's separate. Dikailen appeared in her dream, she says.
"...".
Just then, the moon rose. A full moon piercing the thunderheads. Its pale light filtered through the window.
—Truth is, I saw that Dikailen on the Isle of Ghosts too. Looks like he hasn't given up on Ifrin. What do you think, Deculein?
Dikailen.
As Julie's independent quest was Eternal Winter, Deculein's was Lineage.
Dikailen, in other words.
So, work remained for me.
And I had not given up.
Though time pressed and I released Julie, quests always had at least two clear routes. Always.
"Dikailen..."
I rose from my chair and surveyed the room.
Neatly arranged books, all focused on one theme—pharmacology. A collection of nearly every root, herb, and elixir in this world.
My own method to cure her curse.
"...I shall not yield."
No matter the sacrifice, no matter the years.
I would surely...
—Kekeke. Won't yield? Same here. So about that Dikailen—
"Disconnecting."
—What? Hey, the president race is nearly done—cooperate a bit—
"I'll head to the Floating Island soon."
I cut the link.
Ihelm's aid was optional, but no reason to spurn it.
"...I'll be quite busy."
I donned my overcoat again.
Yeriel had provided Ifrin a training site: the Floating Island's famed hotel, Mana Deployment.
Higher floors meant denser mana, ideal for any spellwork. And the top floor was reserved under the Yukline name.
"Ugh..."
While Sylvia, Roserio, Longdalp, and others dined in the hotel restaurant,
Ifrin pressed on with her mental fortitude training.
It was far too grueling for her.
Using mana would be easier; mental fortitude was an entirely different realm...
"Not working?"
Yeriel asked from the sofa, book in hand. Ifrin sighed deeply.
"Yeah... it's not."
Three days of total blockage. Like constipation.
Karla was due back in two.
"What kinda insane defense mechanism are you building? Planning to embed a magic circle in your skull?"
Yeriel snapped her book shut. Ifrin gave a wry smile.
The mental defense she was constructing now.
Not her favorite person—not by a long shot, infuriatingly complex—but still the most trustworthy existence.
The one who declared, 'I am the proof of reality itself,' brimming with confidence—Deculein.
Manifesting him was no simple task.
"Don't tell me."
Yeriel's face hardened suddenly. Ifrin panicked.
Sharp as the professor's sister—
"You ain't thinking some archmage like Demakan, right?"
"...Huh? Oh, no way."
Ifrin exhaled in relief.
"Never even met the guy."
"Good. Go with a lion or something simple. Dragons are too complicated."
Yeriel pulled out another book. A grimoire. On leave from estate duties, her sole purpose was magic.
Learning it in secret from Deculein. She figured it wouldn't matter if caught, but still—awkward if word reached him.
"Oho... So this is how they teach it these days..."
Yeriel flipped through Ifrin's textbook eagerly.
Far more fun than any amusement park.
"Sigh..."
Ifrin steadied herself with a breath.
But Longdalp's words lingered.
—Stay calm as you attempt it, but complete it as fast as possible. Dikailen is a ghost, a revenant. Ghosts remember those they've met once. No telling when he'll return.
Dikailen could strike again anytime.
Oddly, what did he want from her? The Yukline line suited Professor Deculein far more than some nobody like her.
"Hoo..."
Ifrin closed her eyes again. She began structuring her mental framework.
Bang—!
The hotel door flew open. Ifrin and Yeriel glanced over casually, expecting Roserio and Longdalp.
It wasn't.
"Bro?!"
"...!"
Deculein. With Ihelm beside him.
Yeriel sat up straight in shock, swallowing hard as she stared.
Deculein called her name.
"Yeriel."
"W-Why?! I came to study magic too—do I need permission for that now?!"
Yeriel lashed out preemptively, foot sore from her own guilt, but Deculein dismissed it with one line.
"Step outside briefly."
"...Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure."
Not her, then. Yeriel nodded and scurried out.
Alone with Ifrin, Deculein spoke.
"Ifrin."
"Y-Yes? What... what is it..."
"Private lesson."
"...Huh?"
He must have heard about Dikailen. Ifrin scratched her neck.
"I know the method. The mental guardian thing—"
"No. Dikailen manifests through the 'unconscious' now. Thus, I shall embed a magic circle in yours."
Implanting a 'protective magic circle' directly into Ifrin's dreams—her unconscious.
Deculein drew inspiration from a film he'd seen. For the task, he'd borrowed the Magitech Brainwave Explorer from the tower.
"Prepare. We'll use this device."
"Ah, got it... Then, um..."
Ifrin pondered, finger to lips, then asked.
"...Could you install my 'mental guardian' in the unconscious too?"
"If you can manage it, I care not."
At Deculein's reply, Ifrin nodded.
"Then, Professor."
Deculein busied himself with preparations. The Magitech Brainwave Explorer required setup.
"Put me to sleep, Professor."
Deculein's hands froze.
"...".
His head turned creakily. His sharp eyes fixed on Ifrin, uncomprehending.
"Pfft—!"
Ihelm burst out laughing from the side.
In that bizarre moment, Ifrin added,
"And... appear in my dreams. Always."
"Kuhaha—!"
Ihelm's laughter boomed louder. A fierce gale howled from the hotel ceiling—whirring threateningly.
"...".
"W-Why look at me like that... Ah! Don't misunderstand! I mean..."
But Deculein's gaze remained pinned on Ifrin.
...Meanwhile, Sophien, rising early, checked the snow globe first thing.
Its interior was ordinary as ever. No changes.
"When will this knight emerge."
Sophien still lacked resistance to the cold. She couldn't reenter.
She could only trust Kairon's words and wait.
—Knock knock.
A knock sounded.
This was by her order last night.
A nuisance now, but necessary to dodge Deculein's nagging.
"Enter."
The door opened. Attendants approached, bowing low.
They proffered a newspaper.
"Your Majesty, the start of your daily routine—"
The start of your daily routine—
The attendant's voice warped. Sophien's surroundings shifted.
From opulent bedchamber to eerie ruins.
"...".
Sophien surveyed calmly.
A space thick with cobwebs and malice.
In this bizarre ruin, the attendant's voice echoed.
The echoes faded. The next instant,
"...Your Majesty?"
Sophien found herself back in the palace.
"Mm. Indeed."
Sophien replied coolly.
"Didst thou see Us?"
"Pardon?"
"I ask if We remained here throughout."
"Yes...? Yes, Your Majesty has stood here the whole time."
"...Then, a demon it is."
"Pardon?!"
A familiar scent from before. Cloying, sinister demonic aura.
About to summon 'Deculein—', she halted.
It felt burdensome.
"Hm..."
If he truly loved Her, he'd misinterpret this.
'With Kairon absent, Her Majesty's sole shoulder to lean on is I—' such arrogant notions.
"...How vexing."
Understanding real and mana realms, all phenomena—was simple. Human relations? Utter chaos and madness.
Even if Deculein loved Her not, the risk warranted caution...
"This time, We shall seek answers Ourself."
Not through sloth or ennui, but Her own might.
Sophien murmured thus, a emperor's smile gracing her lips.