Imperial University Tower (1)
On the path out from the vineyard, Julie helped the scattered Imperial Knights and agents to their feet, one by one. Knights including Isak and Gawain lent their aid.
"……Julie."
At that moment, Isak called her name. Julie turned to her former superior and nodded.
"Yes."
"Have you…… been well?"
A question uncharacteristic of Isak, who was always rigid and steadfast as unyielding stone.
Julie wore a genuinely surprised expression.
"There are no cracks in my life as a knight. Why do you ask such a thing?"
"……."
Isak offered a bitter smile.
At this moment, he was steeped in considerable regret. No, all the knights felt the same.
Here in this vineyard, they had glimpsed their pasts and confronted their memories.
It was the recollection triggered by Rohakan's world line.
"……I should have protected you back then."
The Imperial Knights. Julie, who had joined with great ambitions in her heart, and Isak, her direct superior.
Yet Isak, a mere baronet in need of political backing, had failed to block Deculein's interference. He couldn't push away the man who obsessed over Julie and intimidated the other knights.
In the end, Julie had left the Imperial Knights of her own accord.
He had lived justifying it as unavoidable, but the rewound memories here tormented him.
"No."
Julie shook her head. Maintaining a proper distance, she gazed at Deculein's retreating back.
"The Professor no longer obsesses over me."
"……I heard about the broken engagement."
Julie walked on in silence. Then, suddenly shifting her gaze rightward to the shadows between the trees—
A child unable to sleep, clutching her blanket as she wandered into the corridor, overhears a voice at her father's door.
—A child unneeded.
—To me…….
A voice soaked in moisture, murmured like a lament. The child clutches the blanket wound around her tightly.
—……No one matters more than you.
Snap—!
The clear snap of fingers rings out. Julie startles and turns toward it.
Deculein.
He is looking at her.
"Do not indulge in sentiment."
Those words snap her back to reality. The illusion fades, and the emotion gnawing at her chest vanishes.
"Focus on this moment."
His mental fortitude, honed to the extreme, radiates outward. His words, his voice, or merely his presence alone extend beyond the self, influencing the world.
The knights sense this divine phenomenon.
The dark, humid path through the vineyard clears instantly the moment he speaks.
"There is nothing more ugly and pathetic than wandering lost in one's memories."
Deculein presses on. The knights follow slowly behind.
Yet in Julie's ears lingers another memory from some distant time.
"Take it, Julie."
The bracelet her father had given her.
"Keep it like a talisman."
The happiest time in her long—or perhaps short—life. The first gift from her father.
It had vanished in Marik, but a faint smile tugs at Julie's lips.
Father, too, cherished me in that moment…….
I arrived in the capital. But I took no flashy route. I sent the knights ahead through the main gate, slipping back to Yukline Manor amid the attention on them.
"You've worked hard, sir."
With Premien.
But those words grated slightly.
"What did you do?"
"I blocked entry from outside."
"……."
Impudent bastard. Clutching the wooden box, I checked my pocket watch.
"They say the palace is summoning you, Professor."
"I know."
"No need to go immediately?"
"I have something to find."
I headed straight to the study.
Fresh memories now vivid in my mind—traces of the original Deculein. Among them, inside the study's magical safe.
"……."
Amid jewels and ornaments lies a bracelet, broken and corroded. Peering with Naked Eye, a faint Location Tracking function remains.
"……Phairden."
The Marik incident, where Julie suffered grave wounds.
The one who ambushed Deculein then—Phairden's former head, her father.
Igiris von Krail Phairden.
Did he intend to kill Deculein with Julie, or was she caught up by chance, or entirely unrelated?
……However.
Even more incomprehensible.
Why did Deculein keep this in the safe?
Knock knock—
The butler's knock. I slipped the bracelet into my coat pocket and opened the door—with Telekinesis, of course.
"Master. A confidential letter from the Round Table has arrived."
It was the secretary, Ren. He approached with firm steps, offering the magically sealed missive. Premien watched him intently.
"Then I'll take my leave."
As Ren departed, Premien's attention shifted to the document.
"Confidential, is it? I can wait outside if you'd like."
"……."
I read it silently.
……Now that the long southward campaign has ended.
The Round Table conveys, in utmost secrecy, one fact to its elders or those poised to become elders, in hopes of aiding continental stability.
This astonishing news requires further preparation, so please keep it silent for now, lest it leak.
Returning to the point: Beorad's Betan has mastered and refined Blood Demon to the level of the Eight Sequences, finally inventing a spell to distinguish Altiegue with a single drop of blood!
We shall collaborate with the Empire and kingdoms to identify the demonic bloodlines, punish the filthy tribe that has deceived us while hiding their identities, and reclaim what belongs to the Round Table……
Betan's invention of blood magic. One of the major events leading to a turning point in the main quest of the worldview.
"First time I've seen a Round Table confidential seal."
To Premien's casual murmur, I let the secret slip nonchalantly.
"Betan has invented blood magic."
At that instant, Premien's shoulder trembles faintly.
"……Betan, you say. Worthy of confidentiality."
She composes herself quickly, but tells show elsewhere. Naked Eye catches it. Her face remains unchanged, but her taut veins churn with mana.
"Distinguishing Altiegue with one drop of blood…… Convenient."
"Mm. Indeed."
Premien crosses her arms. I hand her the document.
"Read it."
"……Is that alright? The Round Table specified confidential—"
"Must I heed those Round Table fossils?"
Premien hesitates briefly, then takes the letter.
"Yes."
Leaving her to read, I exit the study.
"Ren."
"Yes."
I summon the waiting Ren.
"Procure the finest mana stones and crystals."
"How much?"
"Enough for one cave."
3rd Grade mana quality. In game terms, just a ding! upgrade, but in reality, vastly different. Hard to adapt, harder to wield.
Like suddenly growing 20cm taller. Everything I've lived and learned must change.
For that, I need an artificial, optimal space.
"I'll prepare it. Also, the palace awaits you, Professor."
"Change and depart."
"Yes."
I have separate formal attire for palace visits—neater, simpler.
I ascend the stairs to my room…….
"……."
Opening the door, I lose my words momentarily.
Someone else was on my bed.
"……."
A swirl of emotions; breath catches. The stacked composure from Body Suited to Meditation nearly crumbles.
"……That."
Yeriel. No idea when she arrived, curled shrimp-like on my bed, fast asleep.
I touch my forehead. Sweat after so long. If it were some dark intruder, I'd have killed them.
"……."
I approach the bed, eyeing Yeriel.
Snore…… snore……
Her sleeping face is, fortunately, tidy. No drool like Ifrin, no dirt on her clothes.
"……."
I ponder silently. Lift her hair to wake her? Or smash her forehead?
But no time.
Her Majesty, Sophien, awaits.
I turn away, pretending not to see. It's just Yeriel; no need to burn the bed. Sterilization suffices.
Changing into neat attire, re-clutching Rohakan's box, I head out—but glance back at Yeriel.
Childlike in sleep. I eye the bed embracing her.
"……Absurd."
Perhaps hitting growth spurt now. Or shock and inner turmoil.
Well, her identity crisis must weigh heavy.
"Drool, and you die."
Leaving that, I depart.
I arrive at the palace with the box. Crowds already await me. A banquet prepared.
Numerous palace mages, eunuchs, ministers. They all accost me, eyeing the box curiously, but I refuse to sully Rohakan with these filth.
Perhaps I've come to respect him unknowingly.
At least better than this palace vermin combined. Truly a noble worthy of the chosen people.
"To Deculein, head of Yukline, slayer of that damned black beast——"
The toast from central noble Romelock. I glare coldly, then turn away.
"I believed in you, Professor Deculein!"
Passing him, Delik approaches.
Delik has risen prominently in the palace knights lately.
Politically useful; pushing him further isn't bad.
"Good. Keep it up."
Offering a handshake, Delik's face balloons. Cheeks like baozi, eyes round as sponge cake.
"Yes!"
As Delik bashfully grips with buckteeth, bowing—
"Professor Deculein."
A palace maid approaches. New face.
I stare silently; Delik whispers.
—Lately favored by Her Majesty. Seems to please her; take note.
The maid bows low.
"Please see Her Majesty once. Today, she may grant you audience."
A meaningful message: permission to enter my room. Sophien, swamped with duties, finally opens the door again.
About to reply absently, I pause, sifting memories.
What Sophien will ask.
—Even if Sophi kills you one day, you'll stay by her side.
Rohakan's voice echoes in my ear.
His words to me.
—Glad it's you. See you next time, disciple.
For Sophien's sake, guarding his lie.
But today, Sophien will surely demand the truth. If so.
Better not to meet.
At least if the purpose is clearly 'Rohakan,' avoidance is wise.
I cannot lie to her.
"Professor Deculein?"
The maid calls. I halt my thoughts, gazing down at her.
She smiles faintly, continuing.
"If not today, there may be no chance. So, hurry to Her Majesty—"
"Take it."
I thrust Rohakan's box into her arms. Clutching it awkwardly, she blinks in confusion.
"Th-this…… Please deliver it to Her Majesty yourself. Truly, if not today, there may be no chance……."
Her flustered voice quavers. Still, I shake my head.
"Today is not Wednesday."
"Pardon?"
"Lessons are every Wednesday."
I straighten my sleeve, adjust my collar, nod at the box.
"Today, I merely fulfilled Her Majesty's decree. No need for a personal visit."
The maid's mouth gapes.
"I'll go. You deliver Rohakan to Her Majesty."
"Ah, I—I—!"
I turn coldly.
Through the banquet's classical melodies, waltzing nobles, ministers' laughter, palace jewels, I exit.
Back to the manor—no.
To the tower, where my work awaits.