Traces (3)
“……Hng.”
Yuseffin tapped her cheek with a finger propped under her chin as she eavesdropped on the conversation inside.
It was all quite intriguing, and she nearly burst out laughing at the line about “my sister being too extreme,” but in the end, she just let out a small chuckle.
The price for using the head of the great noble house Yukline was a single smile once a month.
It made her skin crawl, but there was something refreshingly honest about it—except Julie couldn’t even muster a response to that, leaving Yuseffin utterly frustrated.
If it were me, I’d have already pried a few mines out of him.
“Should I hold off a little longer……”
She had planned to kill him.
The methods had been brewing since that day long ago when Julie cried in secret—hundreds, thousands of schemes and plots ready to deploy.
She’d waited for Julie to say it herself until now, but Julie was too kind-hearted to even imagine such a thing, so she’d decided to stop waiting.
“Fine, whatever.”
But today, Deculein’s sincerity deserved a pass.
Yuseffin could discern the color of his voice. His refusal to marry Julie rang utterly true, just like before.
So, she’d let it slide this once.
Put it on hold for a bit.
“……Oppa. What do you think of Deculein?”
Yuseffin asked Zeit, who was yawning at a table on the first floor.
Zeit raised an eyebrow and shot back.
“And what do you think?”
“No idea, Oppa~ I just follow Julie’s lead. What about you?”
“……”
Zeit’s expression hardened ambiguously. He rubbed his temples a few times, then swept back his hair.
“Yuseffin. In chess, you can’t move the king like a queen. Nor a knight like a pawn, or a pawn like a knight. If what you thought was a queen turned out to be a knight, it’d be disappointing.”
Zeit hadn’t pushed for the marriage with Deculein from the start, either.
“But Deculein is no mere piece. Deculein is the chessboard. A few scratches on the board don’t make it unfit for pieces.”
“So?”
Zeit gazed out the restaurant window. In his eyes still swirled the embers of that long-ago war.
“Yuseffin, I remember Father’s death.”
Zeit gritted his teeth. A terrifying aura surged, crushing the air around them. The nobles in the restaurant coughed, caught in the inexplicable pressure.
“Father was worth more than all those damned desk-jockeys in the capital combined. But they treated a knight’s honor as less than a mana stone.”
Yuseffin just nodded.
Zeit like this scared even her.
“It’s the capital, Yuseffin. The capital. Out here on the frontier, we don’t even have a board to play on.”
Border count Phairden.
The ancient family guarding the empire’s northwest gateway to the demon-infested Mieolji.
They had lost their head in a defeat long ago.
“I won’t repeat the past. Julie knows that.”
“Yeah. I get it. Me too.”
Truth be told, Yuseffin had shrugged off Father’s death.
Zeit was the clear heir anyway, and she had no way to kill him, so she’d long abandoned any claim to the title.
Yuseffin quickly lost interest in things she couldn’t have.
“……I’d love to rip them apart, tear off their limbs, mince them up, and feed them to the dogs……”
Yuseffin shook her head.
Same family, but Zeit was brutally intense.
That’s what worried her.
If you up and fly away someday, Julie……
Then, little sister, your big sis will be hoping for this:
That on that day, you’re far stronger than Zeit.
Strong enough to crush him with raw power and soar brighter than anyone.
Right on cue, Julie came down to the first floor. Deculein was at her side.
“Oh ho~ Professor Deculein. Conversation over?”
Zeit switched to a broad grin the moment he saw Deculein.
The mood between Julie and Deculein felt awkward. But not as hostile as before.
“Haha. Ahem. Well, it seems to have gone somewhat smoothly?”
“Yes.”
Deculein nodded as well.
Good enough, then. Zeit patted Julie’s shoulder in satisfaction.
“Alright, let’s head out! Time for a drink.”
The four of them left the restaurant together.
Deculein deliberately lagged behind, letting the three Phairdens take the lead.
—The food tasty, Julie? We ate outside too~ The meat was great.
—I wouldn’t know. And don’t talk to me anymore, Sis.
—Huh? Why? Why~? Don’t make your sis sad.
—You know why.
—Why? When’d you fight this time? Clash over dress picks?
From afar, they looked like a bickering but harmonious family.
But draw a little closer……
Charlie Chaplin’s adage held true, as always.
“I shall take my leave. Tower duties await.”
Deculein stopped at a crossroads and bowed gracefully.
“Eh? Already? Have a drink at least.”
Zeit said, but Yuseffin stopped him. She whispered something including the word “anniversary.” Julie, overhearing, gave Deculein a strange look.
“Ah. Of course. Farewell, then. I hope for another such gathering soon.”
“As do I.”
With that, Deculein turned and headed the opposite way.
The next morning, early.
Bang—!
The chair he’d meant to lift lightly shot up with a crash. It nearly hit the ceiling, but he adjusted his telekinesis, and it settled softly like a leaf in the breeze.
“……Still not used to it.”
Qualitative Enhancement of Mana (Stage 1)
You can now hold mana in a purer form.
Qualitative enhancement of mana.
It meant the mana in his body was refined purer. Circulation smoother. Superior output from the same quantity.
In that sense, his telekinesis—now memorized across his body’s magic circuits—had amplified at least 25%, though readapting from scratch was annoying.
“……Next routine.”
Anyway. Time to memorize Beginner Telekinesis again.
His current telekinesis was half basic, half beginner, but one more week of effort, and it’d be pure Beginner—promising dramatic gains……
Then.
Whoosh—
The annex door flew open.
“What.”
No, he’d clearly ordered no entry without permission—who dared—
“What do you mean, what. It’s me.”
It was Yeriel.
She took one look at him and rolled her eyes in disbelief, lips twisting.
“Seriously…… Put some clothes on, would ya? Heard you’ve been working out lately—got exhibitionist vibes now? Why’re you shirtless?”
In her hand was a parchment.
Its appearance alone screamed trouble, and the system reacted at once.
MAIN QUEST
Verhert's Summoning
“Take it. Verhert’s calling a council. First in 15 years.”
He fetched it with telekinesis and read.
Nothing special. Just notifying House Yukline of the summons, with a postscript to guard their own safety.
“More importantly, what happened? You look half-dead. Sick or something? You’re a mess.”
Yeriel scanned him with a frown. He was covered in wounds and bloodstains, as she said.
“No matter.”
He cleaned himself with a cleanse spell and asked.
“You came in person to deliver this?”
“Kinda? Had business anyway—staying till tomorrow.”
Yeriel shrugged, grumbling. Seemed embarrassed.
“Oh, right. Remember that room I used when I enrolled? I’ll crash there, so don’t even think of coming in.”
“Your speech is rude.”
“……Whatever. Geez, picky about manners. So picky~ Ew, ew~”
She jeered and left.
—Hey, food!
Her shout at the servants echoed right after.
“Till tomorrow.”
Yeriel shows up today and stays till tomorrow……
Today’s his ex-fiancée’s death anniversary.
Of course, no mere coincidence.
[Flat Magic Exploration: Ordinary Magic Research Club]
Ifrin smirked at the plaque. “Flat” in Flat Magic Exploration was a pun on “ordinary” and “commoner.”
“Ah, why’s this so funny, pfft.”
She stifled the giggles leaking out when the door burst open.
“Eek!”
“Ah, Ifrin! You’re here?! Come in!”
Julia grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside.
“Yo, Ifrin. Hi.”
“Card game?”
The club had only seven members—far fewer than expected—but Ifrin liked the tight-knit elite vibe.
“Ifrin, whaddya think? Spacious, right!”
Julia spun in the center.
“Yeah. Sure is.”
Way bigger than expected. Almost like her old house.
“Sofa too……”
Ifrin walked over and plopped down.
So fluffy.
She poked it with her butt.
It sprang back.
“Oooong.”
Poke poke. Back again.
Harder press. No issue.
Truly top-tier among sofas she’d sat on.
Glancing at the others, Ifrin slyly lay sideways.
“Yawn~ Anyway, Julia. What’d you put for the club’s purpose?”
“Hm? Oh~ ‘Practical Understanding and Exploration of Magic.’ Play it right, and we might even tour the Floating Island?”
Mages’ Floating Island.
Entry alone cost 10,000 elne, but a must-visit for any mage. Promotion exams were held there, after all.
“Free entry?”
Ifrin asked about money first. Money, money—her 100,000 elne sponsorship was dwindling fast. Pens, magic books—prices were no joke.
All because she scarfed that Roahawk boar last week…… Thought she’d get a friend discount, but no mercy……
“Duh, free.”
“Oooong! I mean, uh, got it.”
Got it.
Then club activities weren’t so bad.
Ferret spoke up.
“But don’t we need an advisor professor’s okay?”
Ifrin pretended nonchalance, ear perked. Julia pondered, then replied.
“Hm…… If you asked, Ifrin?”
“What? Why me?”
“Professor Deculein doesn’t seem to hate you. Rumor’s he favors you.”
Favors? Ifrin’s face crumpled.
Such filthy rumors floating around?
“Crazy? Who’s saying that? Study too hard, brains fried?”
“Then what? This club was your idea, basically.”
“……”
Ifrin smacked her lips silently.
Why Deculein treated her so well.
Why he expected so much it hurt.
She’d thought it through.
But too tough a puzzle. Only conclusion: pity.
For now, at least.
“What’s the deal~?”
“Ugh. Deal? Just……”
Ifrin scratched her neck.
To her, Deculein was a wall to surpass. Why she became a mage. Top priority. She’d humbly, persistently chase to overtake him.
But saying that felt off. So……
“Rivals.”
Pfft—laughter erupted. Julia spat her water.
“Comedy gold, Ifrin.”
“Not a joke!”
“Hahaha. Your serious face makes it funnier.”
“Laugh or don’t.”
As they joked around.
Bang—!
The door flew open like it’d shattered. A potbellied prof from auxiliary studies, Rellin, stormed in fuming.
“What the hell is this!”
“Flat Magic? What kinda rootless nonsense is this! Hey! What is this!”
Rellin bellowed without explanation. Stunned members hid behind Ifrin.
“What is this trash club!”
Ifrin tensed but stepped up calmly.
Expected backlash, after all.
“We filed the founding plan and got approval. It’s official.”
“What? Who approved this crap?! ……Wait. You’re that halfwit from the other day.”
Halfwit again. Halfwit trend among tower profs?
Ifrin glared at Rellin.
“Hah, cheeky bastard staring at a prof…… Lower your eyes!”
Rellin’s face flushed beet red. Noble classmates snickered in the hall.
They snitched.
“Fine, so confident? Speak! Clubs need at least one advisor prof. Name them!”
“……”
“Name them!”
Ifrin bit her lip at the roar.
He’d promised no hassle when approving.
“Ha! Forged it? Forgery means expulsion. Even if not, you defied me. I’ll say it to the approver’s face!”
Rellin assumed some green prof blundered. Confident, he pressed.
“Speak! Who!”
“Well……”
“Speak!”
The more Ifrin hesitated, the fiercer Rellin grew. Nobles gathered, mocking the “commoner club by commoners.”
Then.
“Speak! Before I drag it out myse— ”
“Me.”
“What?! Who, which bast— ”
Turning, Rellin froze.
“……?”
Like petrified, he stood dazed, head tilted innocently.
“Professor Rellin. You called, so I came.”
Deculein.
Why…… this chief prof……?
“Uh…… Yes?”
“Speak, Professor Rellin.”
Deculein loomed close, looking down.
Perfect height difference. If Rellin were a woman, Deculein a man……
“Out with it. What’s the grievance.”
“……Ah. Deculein, the chief prof, approved this club……?”
“Yes. I did.”
“Ah, uh, I see…… Why, why.”
“Do I need a reason? Your permission?”
Rellin’s eyes spun like a top. Deculein smirked.
“Continue what you were saying.”
“Th-that……”
Rellin heaved, brain racing for escape.
Finally.
“Th-this space! Too cramped, isn’t it?!”
He jabbed at the room.
“We’re Imperial University Tower mages, and this gear—what is this! Too small! Furniture’s crap! ……I was, uh, outraged like that. Ha ha ha.”
Panting, Rellin flashed a bright smile.
“I’ll handle upgrading it myself.”
“As expected, Professor Rellin. Most gracious.”
Deculein nodded calmly. Rellin babbled pleasantries—“Haha, gracious me~”
“Then I’ve got class…… Hahaha!”
Rellin fled laughing heartily, mages still gawking in the hall.
Deculein eyed them—specifically the instigators: Beck, Isia, Jupern.
“Cockroaches always act like cockroaches.”
Chilling, blunt warning. They flinched and scattered like roaches.
Then Deculein surveyed the Flat Magic members. His gaze shifted to the room.
“Cheap-looking, indeed.”
That was it.
He strode off like from a photoshoot.
“……Whoa.”
Ferret collapsed onto the sofa, legs giving out. They’d all felt chills.
Was that a tower prof? Recent talk of Deculein’s slump was nonsense from the clueless.
One encounter, one taste of that pressure, and crisis talk was bullshit.
“Prof in a bad mood today? Scarier than usual……”
“Shh.”
Julia pressed a finger to her lips at Ferret’s whisper. Then murmured tiny.
“It’s his anniversary today.”
“Anniversary?”
Ferret gaped. Ifrin’s eyes widened silently. News to her.
“Yeah. But never mention it to Prof Deculein. Say it by mistake, and you’ll never open your eyes again. Taboo.”
Julia said spookily.
“……Pfft.”
I laughed. Hilarious.
Never open eyes again? Kill over a word?
Snickering, Ifrin schooled her face.
“An anniversary, huh…… Weird. Prof had someone he loved.”
“……Huh?”
Julia tilted her head. Deculein’s bereavement was obscure, but his current fiancée Julie was famous.
“He knew how to love someone.”
Her tone—cynical sigh?—hung when.
“Holy shit. Insane.”
Rondo, staring at his Wizboard, gawked, clutching his hair. Ifrin and Julia looked.
“Why?”
“Prof Deculein just dropped a homework nuke.”
“What? Where!”
Julia, Ifrin, Rondo—all in his class—huddled over the Wizboard.
Deculein’s assignments read……
“Wait, what the…… ”
Ifrin reeled, head spinning.