Training Camp. (2)
“Isn't this a bit too extravagant?”
In Hadekan, at the Yukline estate.
Yeriel, who had come to greet Deculein upon his return to the territory, was a little flustered. It was because of the lineup of mentors he had recruited for the “Yukline Magic Training Camp.”
“...Won't the cost exceed the budget? You didn't even think about the expenses, did you? And you paid the retainers with family checks, right?”
This training camp wasn't that big of an event. It was just a part of the Yukline sponsorship policy. There were still plenty of scheduled sponsorships left for knights, painters, musicians, and more besides wizards.
But to recruit an elder from Verhert...
“It is sufficient for Yukline.”
Deculein, seated in the lord's chair, declared firmly. Yeriel pouted, but she couldn't complain about what came next.
“So that they may take pride in your house.”
“...”
Those words tormented Yeriel. They pierced her heart like a sharpened awl.
“...Still, isn't old man Longdalp on decent terms with us?”
Yeriel forcibly changed the subject. She wasn't a child who would show her pain outright.
“That was long ago.”
“...You said you'd never forget.”
Deculein sipped his tea without a word. Yeriel, gauging his mood, continued.
“Anyway, you know? Thanks to this, applications for the training camp are pouring in. So we're planning to accept adventurers too, not just university wizards.”
“Adventurers, you say.”
“Yeah. The world is changing fast. Thinking about the Marik underground passages, we need to keep good relations with the adventurer guilds. They'll love getting training tickets.”
From the moment the training costs ballooned like this, Yeriel's mind was filled with nothing but 'We must break even—'.
It was called sponsorship, but it was practically an intangible investment.
“I leave it to you. The young adapt better to these changing times.”
“...What are you saying? You're plenty young yourself.”
Deculein let out a small chuckle as he rose from the lord's chair.
Yeriel lost herself for a moment in that faint smile, but she quickly ran over and reclaimed the seat.
“I shall take my leave.”
“Huh? ...Yeah.”
Yeriel watched Deculein's retreating back.
“...”
She managed to hide her stinging, bitter heart.
Thud—
The moment the office door closed.
Nausea surged up to Yeriel's jaw.
“Urp!”
She bolted to the bathroom and clung to the toilet, retching.
Guweeeh—!
She vomited up everything she had barely eaten that morning.
Once, twice, three times, four.
She heaved until yellowish gastric acid came up, then leaned her trembling body against the wall.
“Keh... haa.”
Day by day.
It was getting harder to pretend nothing was wrong.
Enduring the fact that she wasn't truly Yukline was excruciating.
Of course, she still smiled for the territory and retainers, working diligently... but...
Deculein is not my blood kin.
I am not Yukline.
That fact doesn't change.
“Damn it...”
Whether her mother had committed adultery, or her father had known and accepted them anyway.
“...Why.”
But whatever the case.
Deculein knew the truth.
He had known for a long time, yet he still treated her, still treated her...
—Yeriel is still Yeriel.
The voice etched vividly in her memory.
Deculein's trembling tone.
“...Hic.”
Yeriel wiped her eyes with her sleeve and washed her face before the tears could fall.
Then she returned to the office as if nothing had happened and sat in the lord's chair.
Knock knock—
Right on cue, she responded calmly to the knock.
“Come in.”
It was the old butler. He, who had served the Yukline family for generations, handed her some documents.
“What's this now?”
“The monster southward migration is approaching. This is the imperial request for cooperation.”
“Oh, right?”
Yeriel skimmed the contents and furrowed her brow.
“They want a lot.”
“Yes. It seems the imperial family has been watching Yukline's progress closely lately.”
Hadekan, Yukline was enjoying an unprecedented golden age as of late.
Of course, it had always been one of the top magical houses, but in overall family ranking, it had hovered around 4th or 5th.
But now, with the reconstruction of the “Marik underground passages,” advances in various manufacturing industries, growth in the family magic tower and knight order, and nearly unlimited imperial support for the “Rohalak Detention Camp”...
Of course, there were side effects.
Monsters and mana beasts from Marik, astronomical industrial investment costs, scammers exploiting the gaps, persistent guerrilla terrorism from Altiegue, inevitable checks from the central court... plenty.
But they were all things Yeriel and her staff had anticipated, so countermeasures were solid.
“Pay it all as is. No need to haggle. In cash.”
“Yes, miss. What about the bribes for the capital?”
“Hmm. The bribes...”
Court factions or imperial? Another dilemma.
The previous generation had bet on the court and suffered major setbacks...
“To the imperial family? I heard from an inside source too.”
“Yes.”
This generation would be different. The current emperor, Sophien, didn't seem the type to trust her subjects at all.
“Oh, right. How's the annulment going?”
There was more good news.
Julie, that thorn in her side, had finally tumbled into ruin.
“No matter what, we can't take a corrupt knight as a bride, right?”
“Yes. We're discussing it, but it's dragging on. We need the family elders' permission...”
“Tch. Really? Well, if Deculein hasn't lifted a finger, she's probably out of favor.”
Whether Julie was abandoned due to her crimes, or rejected Deculein to the end and was discarded for insolence.
To Yeriel, who still remembered the old Deculein, the latter seemed more plausible, but either way, it was good.
The engagement to Phairden brought Yukline no benefits anyway.
“Fine. You're dismissed.”
“Yes.”
Yeriel sent the old butler away.
Alone in the vast office, she closed her eyes tightly.
Her guts still felt twisted, but she'd be fine.
“...It's okay.”
If only I endure.
If only I hold on.
Nothing changes.
No need to suffer like this.
No, I don't even have the right.
Deculein has already been through worse.
After torments and agonies greater than mine, he ultimately accepted me as Yeriel...
“Urk... huuuh.”
Yeriel swallowed down the rising nausea again.
──「Mizo Fish」──
◆ Info
：A rare fish that lives only in clear lakes. To protect this fish's ecosystem, the Yukline family has banned fishing. Be cautious if you intend to fish.
◆ Category
：Sundries ⊃ Foodstuffs
◆ Special Effect
：Consuming it may slightly increase mana. (However, the effect diminishes as mana capacity grows.)
Meanwhile, Ifrin had finished preparing for the training camp. She had sent all her luggage to the lake island, nearly completed her thesis for Deculein, and aced her exams.
So now...
“Here we go! One special Roahawk!”
Ifrin met her club members at “Pig's Blossom.” Julie, Rondo, Perit, and others. It had been a while since the full group gathered.
“Woooah—!”
One special Roahawk.
Literally a whole Roahawk roasted and boiled to perfection.
Ifrin gripped a hind leg, clinging to her fading sanity.
“Oh yeah, Iphrin.”
“Yeah?”
Julie asked as Ifrin tore into the meat.
“What about your civilian support duty?”
Civilian support.
A must for tower wizards. With winter approaching and the southward migration starting, wizards paused research to combat the monster waves.
Civilian support split into safer “civil aid” or riskier but career-boosting “firepower support.” Wizards chose freely.
“Dunno. Probably follow the professor.”
“Professor Deculein?”
“Yeah. You guys?”
Ifrin devoured the arm-thick hind leg in just three minutes.
“I'm heading to my territory for civil aid.”
“Me too.”
Perit and Rondo, commoners who entered university on rural scholarships, had destinations.
Mm~ Yeah, makes sense~ Ifrin nodded, mouth stuffed with meat. Julie asked,
“Where's Professor Deculein going?”
Gulp— “Dunno? Something about the chairman's final selection exam.”
“Oh. Then the training—”
“Don't talk to me. Gotta eat Roahawk.”
Ifrin dove into the Roahawk. After so long, it tasted divine...
As she busily chewed.
—The Roahawk I ate with the professor was the best.
A voice struck like lightning.
Something heard somewhere, sometime.
A moment not etched in her memory.
Ifrin whipped her head around, eyes wide.
“What's up, Iphrin?”
“Huh? Oh... nothing. Let's eat.”
She refocused on the Roahawk. The fleeting voice sank to the depths of her mind.
“Ah, so good, so gooood...”
Ifrin just stuffed her hamster-puffed cheeks happily, utterly content.
* * *
...The lake island was literally an island in a lake.
The lake was too vast in diameter and depth to be called one lightly, but being inland, it was a lake. The lake island sat in its center.
“...”
Yukline territory had many mysterious places like this, and now I was fishing from the island's shore.
Sitting on a chair sculpted with Aesthetic Sense, rod enhanced with Midas' Hand, catching time itself...
Chirp chirp— chirp chirp—
Forest birds sang, the sun-reflecting lakeshore emerald clear.
Bubble bubble—
A bite. I adjusted the rod with Telekinesis and reeled in the fish.
Splash—!
The fish thrashed, spraying water. I checked its info first.
Deculein has few hobbies he can tolerate.
Chess, reading, horseback riding, art, and fishing.
His pathological obsession with elegance and cleanliness doesn't extend to fishing—likely because former emperor Krevaim enjoyed it.
“Enjoying the fishing, Professor?”
A voice approached without warning.
I gave no reply, casually casting again.
Soon, Vice Director Premien appeared.
“I didn't know you enjoyed fishing, Professor.”
“...”
“What is it.”
“A discussion about Sylvia.”
I conjured another chair with Transmutation.
Premien sat.
“Sylvia's nameless diagram 'Direct Mana Map' is beyond imagination. Dangerous in itself. And we've confirmed she harbors resentment toward you, Professor.”
“...Resentment.”
“Yes. Idnik seems to have told her everything about the past. Killing intent detected in her mana waves.”
“Hm. You monitored her mana waves too. You've been diligent.”
“Professor. This is no joke. Green surveillance isn't enough. Red watch, and headquarters is considering intelligence agents.”
I gazed silently at the lakeshore.
Sylvia of Ilayde, the wizard born with this world's greatest talent.
And her mother, Cielia.
Fragments of those memories lingered in my mind.
“Premien. I killed Cielia.”
“Yes. But you don't need to die for it, Professor.”
I nodded at Premien's words.
“Naturally. However...”
Suddenly, pain flared in my temple. Cielia's voice, never heard before, pierced my ear.
—Deculein, you did nothing wrong. So don't hate yourself too much...
A merciful tone to her own strangler: 'You did nothing wrong.'
Such unnatural kindness.
“...I may pity that child.”
“That pitiable child might slaughter you gruesomely.”
I shook my head at Premien.
“Would killing me make that child happy?”
“An oddly sentimental question.”
I turned to Premien. Her expression was usual, but clear displeasure showed.
“Just a question. Whether that child can live hating me.”
“Well. Not hating her mother's killer would make her insane—no, abnormal.”
“Hm.”
Deculein's personality has no 'wounds.' He doesn't care if someone hates him madly or to death.
No one can scratch this iron ego.
That's why he's the 'villain.'
I smiled faintly.
“Leave Sylvia be. Her blade will only reach me anyway. No need for you to sacrifice and fan the flames.”
Excuses or evasion don't suit me, and if Sylvia grows hating me, it's good for the world.
No loss in the process.
“...”
Premien fell silent. Not moved by my words.
Snow was falling on the lakeshore.
Premien's dazed eyes looked to the sky's snow.
She spoke in disbelief.
“Heh. Does it snow here too? I heard this area's climate never gets snow.”
“...”
True. The climate around this lake island was mild year-round. Snow never fell...
Suddenly, a line surfaced in my mind.
“Wait.”
I picked up the book by my chair and found the page.
[ ...The wizard fishing by the lakeshore suddenly confesses his heart to the agent who appears. Then, snow begins to fall on the lake where it never snows. ]
“...”
I looked around silently. No presence but Premien.
“Premien.”
“Yes.”
“Have you read this book?”
I showed her the cover. Her blue eyes confirmed it, and she nodded.
“Yes. It's the most popular in the security bureau library—twenty copies stocked.”
* * *
—Would killing me make that child happy.
...Watching him from afar in the distant sky, hearing his words, taking in his voice.
Sylvia thinks.
—Just a question. Whether that child can live hating me.
I hate you. I loathe you. I resent you.
But if I kill you, what remains in my life?
—Not hating her mother's killer would make her insane—no, abnormal.
—Hm. Then it's fine.
Why did you smile upon hearing I harbor killing intent?
“...Why.”
Sylvia mutters blankly. No answer returns on the empty island.
Only the wind scatters and breaks.
“...”
Gritting her teeth, Sylvia stands.
Just watching from afar can't quench this thirst. Can't calm her wildly shaking heart.
The answer to this doubt can only come from Deculein.
“Sylvia? What are you doing?”
Idnik, researching nearby, turned. Sylvia ignored her, strapping on a parachute.
“Hey. What're you up to?”
Still silent, she tapped the ground with her toes. Preparing to jump.
“Heh. Do whatever.”
Idnik asked no more.
Sylvia's level was beyond Monarch anyway. Deculein had already transcended, on track for Ether rank.
Youngest Ether was a given; no need to baby her.
“Just don't die.”
“Yeah.”
Sylvia finally replied and leaped from the island.
Now, her heart held one sentence.
...I will meet you, and ask you.