Father's Pride and Unyielding Will
……People had gathered in the hall of the old mansion. Excluding the Altar members, fewer than ten remained. The rest had either died or fled.
“……She’s asleep.”
Ruina approached cautiously, brushing back her green hair as she gestured toward the back.
Near the sofa, Ifrin, the Chairman, and Premien slept together. Adrienne pillowed her head on Ifrin’s lap, Ifrin leaned against the sofa back, and Premien lay sprawled on the floor.
“When did they get so chummy? They were hugging without a care, oblivious to how terrifying Yukline is.”
Ruina asked with a chuckle. I shook my head silently.
“Thanks to the Chairman, the rumors will spread for sure.”
This indignity was beyond words. It still haunted me.
Suddenly being embraced in front of prying eyes—even Adrienne’s—and confessing that I’d overheard her conversation with Julie.
I was considering disciplinary action: perhaps assigning her to grade the Magic Tower’s merit papers or clean the bathrooms.
“By the way. The Chairman’s useless right now, so let her sleep. I’d love to slip her a sleeping pill.”
This space was anathema to fairies. Adrienne couldn’t wield an archmage’s insight here. She was an outlier who’d reached the pinnacle through destruction magic alone.
“But will Dikailen really come for us?”
“He will.”
Ifrin had said so.
When the sun set, Dikailen would come. He had words for me.
“That girl’s got guts. Facing Dikailen head-on.”
Ruina laughed softly. I replied dismissively.
“It is the talent of an archmage. She is still somewhat—no, profoundly foolish.”
I paused and checked my wristwatch. 5 p.m.
Too early for evening, yet the sun in the sky was being swallowed by darkness.
A solar eclipse.
“This eclipse will last about two hours~ We have to resolve everything by then.”
Syrio said. At that moment, half the mansion plunged into darkness.
Ruina furrowed her brow.
“You’re not helping, so why are you slithering around? And how did you end up joining that cult anyway?”
“Haha. Cult? Who knows. More importantly, over there.”
Syrio pointed into the gloom. An eerie chill seeped from that direction. The aura of ghosts.
I turned to look, while Adrienne snored.
Snore— snore—
In that peaceful, rumbling slumber, I fixed my naked eyes on the form rising with the darkness.
─……Greetings.
The soul of the dead calling to me.
─My son.
Dikailen.
* * *
The cursed mansion’s basement. Dikailen led me to its depths.
Though a ghost, he had lived like a man: magical research materials and traces neatly arranged everywhere.
─Sit.
A chair and table in the basement’s center. Dikailen sat first and regarded me.
“……”
I sat facing him without a word. His expression was impassive, as was mine.
Yet a strange feeling stirred within.
Was this Deculein’s father? Or mine?
At times, it blurred.
─It has been long.
“Did you seal the doors?”
─No. The mansion sealed itself. It thinks, acts. A cradle sustaining ‘us,’ a life not unlike man’s.
I furrowed my brow. Dikailen crossed one leg.
“Your magic?”
─No. I merely aided it slightly. The mansion awoke alone and now burns with rage.
“Why the rage?”
─It sought to devour the Emperor.
“……”
─The Emperor could not leave. Yet some soul guided him to a ‘back path.’
Some soul.
I already knew who.
“Yes. Then what does this mansion desire?”
─You know. The Emperor’s body harbors calamity. One that deems itself ‘god.’
The Altar’s god.
Its soul awaited descent from the world’s edge, yet its flesh seemed already manifest here.
─It sculpted its form most perfectly and sent it down. That is Sophien, and traces linger in her body. In time, it will assimilate her soul.
A divergence from the main story.
Had something gone awry? Or had I been wrong about the ‘fixed story’?
─Igiris knew first and sought to slay the ‘body’ itself. But Sophien held Authority. It saved her.
Death regression. The power ensuring she never truly died.
─Now it is but a matter of time. The Altar’s grubs couldn’t wait and acted rashly, but soon Sophien will merge with the god.
Yet that Authority now resided not in Sophien, but Ifrin.
The Altar’s design.
It aided Sophien’s growth but hindered the ‘descent’ immensely.
─Thus, slay Sophien, Deculein. Swear it, vow it, and this mansion will release you.
Dikailen continued.
─This mansion has shared the Empire’s history. It desires no more the fall of house and empire, this continent’s ruin, than you do.
“I refuse.”
I answered firmly.
Then—boom!
The space shuddered violently.
Dikailen asked, expression unchanged.
─Why.
“I know my future. A death not far off.”
─……
Dikailen fell silent, merely watching.
“Yet yielding to knowledge suits me less than defying it to change it.”
His brow twitched. Shadow crossed his face.
“I have no intent to accept such a future meekly.”
I found it strangely amusing.
That so-called god. This vast, wave-like pressure bearing down.
“……Even Julie discarded me.”
I smiled faintly. Yet dark flames boiled in my heart.
Heat rising to my jaw. I spat it out, chewing the scorching blaze.
“Now they shall pay the price.”
Telekinesis gathered in my grasp. Mana’s aura rose. The space resonated, trembling.
“I am Yukline.”
Dikailen gazed long, then nodded.
His expression softened; low voice.
─Proud indeed.
“……”
My face hardened.
Thoughts snapped in my mind.
Suddenly, Deculein’s emotions tickled my heart. Joy welled at that single phrase.
The era yearning for approval from the most perfect, ruthless father……
─Deculein. I wished Yukline greatness.
Dikailen rose.
─Pushing you harshly, doubting you, seeking immortality—all for that.
His gaze swept his research materials filling the mansion.
─Leave a hollow legacy mocked by the world, or become a monster to exalt the house. I chose the latter. Even bearing infamy of corruption, living in another’s body—if it forged greatness.
I watched him. He took a tome from a corner, nobly placed.
─Even today, I doubted you.
Ghosts cannot touch matter; woven solely by mana—magical scholarship.
Dikailen’s magical secret—Art Magic.
Coincidence or not, I now held the quest reward: series addition selection right.
─Now you are worthy to entrust the house.
He offered it.
Then met my eyes squarely.
─Yes. As you say, you are Yukline. It matters not who you are, what your soul.
That phrase struck meaningfully.
‘Your soul now, regardless.’
……Kim Woojin and Deculein.
The blended souls.
─Wield demonic energy, Deculein. Spare no means. Shred those prattling morals moment to moment. Crush those judging character, preaching ethics. This world’s law is the weak devoured by the strong. The ignorant masses hold no worth to teach or learn.
Dikailen spoke. Passion laced his tone on ‘house.’
─……Become the devil.
Whispering low, he placed a hand on my shoulder.
─Show Yukline’s might. To all the world. Proclaim it with your nobility, your grace. Be it god, emperor, giant.
His red eyes pierced me.
─Make them fear Yukline.
……Truly the most ‘Yukline’ of all.
In this instant, I grasped his principle.
Sudden realization.
“……”
Silently, I tucked Art Magic into my coat. Rose and faced Dikailen.
“Yet you know not. I killed you.”
─Beasts honor no parents. Parents rear; children grow. To become king of beasts, nay, for kingship—
Dikailen straightened my attire with mana.
……Could this be called a father’s touch?
─One must trample parents easily. Besides, did I not urge Keigon to slay your fiancée?
I closed my eyes briefly.
Orphaned young, Kim Woojin knew not if this was love’s form.
But Deculein……
“You are but a specter.”
I’d no desire to emulate; it repulsed.
Yet his ‘approval’ felt not unwelcome.
“Regardless. My memories reside here. I must meet him.”
─You may die.
“Amusing.”
Then Dikailen showed expression: a smile.
“He knows Sophien better than she herself. Thus, I must meet him.”
─Go then. That memory awaits you. I shall open the mansion’s doors.
Nodding, I turned.
“……”
There he stood.
Seeing myself, I asked.
“Has Your Majesty decided?”
He answered.
“This is the decision. As you say, I know Sophien better than she. Outwardly she repels, yet deep within desires ‘us’ by her side.”
“……Is that so.”
I smiled.
“A coincidence. I feel the same.”
* * *
……The palace raid ended in a single night.
Their cognition barrier, activated just before the assault, proved their poison. Trapped in their own barrier, they could not flee.
Clack— clack—
Sophien walked the now-silent palace garden.
Amid Altar corpses mingled with slain maids and eunuchs—a field of carnage. She paused at its heart, murmuring.
“……Your blood and bodies shall fertilize. Your deaths stir the people’s wrath, birthing pretext for the Mieolji expedition.”
The Emperor always had plans.
The seeming whim of bombing Altar temples, the imperial event—all trusted in Kairon. These sacrifices too would serve political ends.
“Over half the nagging eunuchs clinging here and there are gone……”
Yet her words cut short.
Spotting a ‘woman’ buried in corpses.
“……Hm.”
Her face hardened. She approached slowly.
In hell’s midst lay maid Ahan.
“……”
Sophien knelt personally, gazing at her serene, deathlike face.
Suddenly, Rohakan’s words surfaced.
Those with her would all meet misfortune.
“You……”
Cough! Cough!
Ahan suddenly hacked.
Sophien withdrew her hand hastily, clearing her throat.
“……Your Majesty?”
Ahan, eyes open, looked up.
Sophien crossed her arms awkwardly.
“What is this? Feigning death?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Hiding among corpses…… More importantly, your sacred body—”
“Hmph. I am unharmed. The raid is quelled.”
“Ah~ Truly fortunate.”
“You. Lucky indeed. Return and rest.”
“Yes. Truly fortunate……”
Ahan fainted again; Sophien smiled unwittingly.
“Fortunate.”
Kairon’s voice from behind.
The sun’s light faded; eclipse’s shadow blanketed the land.
“……Fortunate how?”
Sophien looked skyward. The moon devoured the sun.
“That Your Majesty seems to have found a man to bear her.”
“……What?”
Absurd; she turned. Kairon suppressed laughter.
“Or if not, surely Your Majesty’s one-sided fancy—”
“Shut your mouth, madman. Strange words upon arrival. No knightly virtue?”
“Did you not chide my silence before? Anyway.”
Kairon pointed behind.
There stood ‘him.’
“The Professor.”
Deculein. Meeting his gaze, Sophien felt something—joy.
And sorrow.
“……Professor.”
Calling softly, she blamed herself.
No intent to deceive. No ploy to beguile.
That ‘decision’ she’d unconsciously desired…… he had……
Step— step—
Deculein approached. Yet Sophien retained imperial poise.
Still awkward. Feeling sorrow at such a moment felt alien, unprecedented—confusing.
Thus did Deculein always strip parts of her self.
Therefore……
“Professor—?”
Deculein halted before her, turning to Kairon. Kairon likewise.
And……
“Greetings. Long time, Kairon.”
“Likewise. Long time, Professor.”
They smirked, sensing something mutual, extended hands, shook.
“……”
Sophien blinked, baffled. Then narrowed her eyes.
Daring to sideline the Emperor.
“Professor. His Majesty is wroth. Go to him.”
Only then did Deculein face her.
Sophien spoke curtly.
“Begone.”
Pfft— Kairon laughed. Sophien’s eyes flashed; Deculein shook his head.
“It is well, Your Majesty. My body is unscathed.”
“……Unscathed?”
“Yes.”
Approaching, he knelt before Sophien. Eyes knowing all, he said.
“……Now I see, Your Majesty has grown much.”
The Professor who spent centuries with child Sophien—thus more familiar with her youth.
Impudent to an emperor; Sophien flushed crimson.
“Y-You mad fool!”
……A first emotion.
* * *
Whoooosh……
Julie regained consciousness. First, the blizzard’s howl in her ears told her.
Phairden.
Crack!
Heart-wrenching agony snapped her eyes wide. She thrashed wildly.
Hacking blood, screaming—someone embraced her gently.
“……Julie.”
Yuseffin’s voice calling her name.
Julie calmed slowly, clutching her arm, murmuring.
“……Sister.”
“Yes. It’s me. Calm now.”
Yuseffin’s tone brimmed with affection.
Yet that kindness amplified Julie’s self-loathing.
“I……”
She gritted her teeth. Unable to steady her trembling, forced words out.
“I committed grave sin……”
“Yes. Sorry. Sister knew all.”
“……Eh?”
Julie’s breath hitched. Yuseffin handed Rockfel’s file.
“Bribery by certain Prenheim members. Rockfel and Veron’s truth. All there.”
“……”
“Rockfel deserved death. Haggling lives. Grieve not.”
Julie stared blankly, flipped pages frantically. One, two, three, four……
Prisoner trafficking. Embezzlement, instigation?
Looked up at Yuseffin.
“What is……”
“His crimes hidden by Deculein’s will. Blame none. Not you, not him—Rockfel’s fault alone.”
“……”
Julie leaned against the bed. Vacant eyes to the window.
Ha—a hollow, dying laugh escaped.
“Father back then…… why such deeds?”
“……He thought it right.”
Yuseffin took a comb.
“Had Dikailen claimed Marik’s core, vivisections would follow. On the weak, destitute. Did Father seek to stop it?”
She combed Julie’s hair.
Swish— swish—
Snowfall-like, soft white tresses swaying.
“Father was fool. Obsessed with ‘goodness.’ Over house, children.”
That beautiful sheen, yet her eyes lifeless.
Empty as the dying.
Pitifully so……
“……Julie. Truly sorry, then.”
Yuseffin offered a bracelet. Julie eyed it.
Igiris’s sole gift.
“Live. Keep living. Even hating Father.”
“……”
“Your husband…… no, no longer. Titles need sorting?”
Yuseffin smiled, showed a newspaper.
“See. Julie, you’re officially free now.”
Media headline. Julie’s blurred eyes read it.
“The palace raid? Two weeks past. Time flew.”
Two weeks.
Julie slept; the world changed.
“Deculein visited you.”
“Ah!”
Julie’s eyes widened.
“Your seal needed for annulment. Stamped while you slept.”
“……Ah.”
She nodded blankly, convinced.
Pitying—somewhat endearing—her, Yuseffin asked sternly.
“So, what now?”
“……Pardon?”
“How will you live? Die like this? Discard the life the Professor fought to save?”
“……”
Even mid-talk, Deculein flickered: his words, deeds for her. Father’s secret, Phairden’s sin.
All swirled in her mind.
Thus, Julie shook her head.
“No.”
“Good. Then what?”
“……Unchanged.”
She rose. Thud!—suppressed heart’s thud.
Yuseffin asked.
“Unchanged?”
“I must be a knight.”
Shedding sickbed garb, Julie donned armor.
“……Whose?”
Belting her sword, she replied.
“The one I must repay.”
Jealousy pricked Yuseffin, yet not unwelcome. Smiling, she thought.
“I know past cannot change. That my body is doomed.”
Phairden’s winter.
Julie resembled it most.
“My life but forced extra.”
Dead in warmth, survives cold—yet winter holds ‘warmth.’ Phairden’s winter stark, but hope exists.
Sturdy northerners call it ‘will.’
“Yet I must not forfeit this forced life. Never. For.”
Full knightly garb, Julie faced Yuseffin.
“It is not mine alone.”
Lifted ‘Igiris’s bracelet.’ Willingly clasped her wrist.
A token of unwitting hate.
“Thus, survive. Become better knight.”
Yuseffin watched, chin in hand. Fond smile.
“To give myself to him. His sword.”
Whoooosh……
Blizzard raged outside.
Yet sickroom warm, buoyed by some patient’s will—not unpleasant from Yuseffin’s view.
Though that life’s flame flickered faint, frail……
“Jealous, but glad. You’ll keep living.”
Truly not bad.
Yuseffin murmured unwittingly.
“……Though, return her if you can.”
“……”
“Joking~ Hehe.”