Chapter 68
Chapter 68
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: Jarodin (3)
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Ronan carefully picked up the book. The half-torn cover had what appeared to be the title written boldly on it.
"Regarding... Resurrection...?"
Suddenly, dozens of ink bottles rolling around his feet caught his eye. They were all empty. On the desk lay three or four feather pens stained with use.
'Did he write this himself?'
It seemed like a book penned by Jarodin himself. Ronan slowly turned the pages.
Every page bore a date and the record for that day. The first entry was from Imperial Year 1031. It had been written a full seventeen years ago.
'Suna? That's the woman's name.'
Ronan turned his head. Adeshan had placed her hand on the glass tube and was staring at the woman, utterly entranced.
He hadn't noticed before, but the woman appeared to be around Iril's age, perhaps a bit older. After a moment of silence, Ronan twisted his lips.
'...He was researching to bring back his dead wife.'
Scattered throughout the book were messy notes on death and resurrection, as if to prove it. Folktales from across the continent, religious accounts of the afterlife, even information on necromancy—a branch of black magic.
Ronan laid Jarodin on the bed beside him and picked up the book again. He began scanning the contents with the delicate care one might use for a newborn.
The further he turned the pages, the darker Ronan's expression grew. There was no trace of cheer in the handwritten diary.
As he read on, he began to understand the reason for such obsession with money. The book detailed hundreds of revival attempts.
Most involved magic or alchemy requiring catalysts, and the ingredients were the problem. The 102nd spell used five sheets of gold lizard hide—worth more than a decent house—as catalysts.
'Damn, even ten silvers an hour wouldn't cut it.'
Ronan skipped ahead and went straight to the last page. The date indicated it was written yesterday.
The entry cut off there. Tucked between the pages was a single pristine white note. Ronan tilted his head.
'Them? An offer?'
An uneasy feeling crept over him. Of all colors, it had to be that ominous white. He was about to flip back for clues when Adeshan's shout came from behind.
"P-Professor!"
"Shit, you scared me."
Ronan instinctively pocketed the note. He whipped around to see Jarodin sitting up, his upper body raised. Harsh breaths escaped his lips in irregular gasps, followed by a dry voice.
"...I must have made a fool of myself."
"Uh... feeling better?"
"Yes."
Jarodin slowly surveyed the room. He saw his secret lab and the two frozen like statues.
In Ronan's hand was the report-cum-diary he'd been writing his whole life. Jarodin spoke.
"You're quite the reader."
Whoosh! Suddenly, the surrounding mana surged toward Jarodin. Sensing the ominous energy, Adeshan gasped. Ronan placed a hand on his sword hilt and protested.
"Don't get the wrong idea—we only came down because you told us to."
"J-Jarodin Professor. Calm down...!"
Instead of replying, Jarodin raised his hand. As Ronan moved to draw his sword—snap! Jarodin flicked his fingers in the air, and a white dress materialized on the naked woman's body. Adeshan's eyes widened.
"Huh?"
Jarodin stood. The gathered mana dispersed like mist. He walked to the glass tube and addressed the woman.
"Sorry, Suna. I didn't expect guests."
"Jarodin?"
"Forget it."
"Pardon?"
"Forget my wife's naked form."
He turned abruptly and glared at Ronan. Blue eyes blazed fiercely from their sockets. Seeing mana rising from his shoulders, Ronan swallowed hard.
'This guy's no joke.'
Among the mages he'd encountered, this one ranked in the top ten. Victory was uncertain, and there was no reason to fight. Ronan raised both hands placatingly.
"Got it. I'll forget."
"You will, won't you."
"Yes. So calm down. You're not planning to tear us apart with magic, right?"
"...Why would I? It was my carelessness."
The killing intent subsided. From his words, he seemed to remember some of what he'd done. Jarodin nodded toward the book.
"But why are you holding that?"
"Well, you see..."
"Never mind. Did you read it?"
"No. I just picked it up."
"Good."
Jarodin staggered over and snatched the book. His unsteady gait suggested the curse's aftereffects lingered. He slumped onto the bed like a collapsing man and continued.
"...You're the first students to enter here."
"It wasn't on purpose."
"I know. And unless you're fools, you've figured out what I'm doing."
Ronan and Adeshan exchanged glances and nodded. Jarodin sighed deeply.
"I ask you—keep it secret."
"Of course. Who would we tell?"
"True enough... Ronan, do you still have the ring?"
"Pardon?"
"Since we're here, better to extract it now. If that's alright?"
Ronan let out a hollow laugh. Even lucid, his obsession remained unchanged.
He pulled the ring from his pants pocket. Sarante's mana faintly emanated from the gem-embedded band.
"Do what you want. I was getting worried leaving it off my body too long anyway."
"Thank you. I'll make it quick."
Jarodin took the ring and sat at the desk. He began the mana extraction using precise tools.
Ronan and Adeshan stood side by side before the glass tube. Adeshan gazed up at Suna with pitying eyes and spoke.
"She's incredibly beautiful. Isn't she?"
"Yeah, sure."
"So young... What happened?"
"Who knows..."
Judging by the pristine corpse, likely illness or poison. Ronan clicked his tongue softly. Having no experience with romantic love, he couldn't fully empathize, but it soured his mood nonetheless.
The two wandered the secret space like it was a park. Adeshan scanned every corner, as if committing the layout to memory—a habit underpinning her insight.
'Something feels off.'
Ronan, meanwhile, walked silently, eyes on the floor. An inexplicable unease gnawed at him. What they called intuition was sending warning signals.
'Never been in love myself... but I've seen plenty ruined by it.'
Even among his penal legion comrades, those who'd killed cheating lovers or murdered for love weren't rare. Ronan viewed love as a kind of poison.
Love drove dragons to suicide, turned the Empire's rising star into a dementia patient, and transformed the kindest souls into unrepentant villains.
Jarodin was hopelessly addicted. From the diary and his actions, he'd do anything to revive his wife.
'If those bastards tempt him...'
That amplified Ronan's unease. If Nebula Klaji approached with a surefire revival method and a favor in exchange, Jarodin would do it, knowing it was wrong.
'Can't let that happen.'
Ronan slipped a hand into his inner pocket. His fingers brushed the note he'd pocketed. Then Jarodin's voice echoed from the darkness.
"It's... done."
"Already?"
They returned to Jarodin. He removed his monocle and handed back the ring. As he'd claimed, the emanating mana showed no change.
"You sure you extracted it properly? Nothing's different."
"I was surprised too... Far more mana contained within than seeps out..."
Jarodin rose. His slender legs trembled like a newborn fawn's.
He looked even more exhausted; extracting the mana had drained him greatly. Leaning on Ronan's shoulder, he panted.
"Thank you... Never dreamed I'd obtain something like this..."
"No big deal. I succeeded in mana resonance thanks to you."
"You... have no idea how long I searched... You kept your promise, so I'll keep mine. If you face troubles, come to me anytime..."
"Thanks."
"Then... could you leave for today...? Sorry... I can't keep my eyes open..."
"Sure. Let's go, Adeshan."
Ronan turned. Already tense from the note, this was convenient. As he took a step—
"Wait..."
"Yes?"
Jarodin's voice stopped him. Ronan replied without turning. A chill like a ghost's lick crawled up his neck.
'Shit, did he notice?'
Cold sweat beaded on his temples. Jarodin continued haltingly.
"Mana cultivation... must be done daily. Don't neglect it for talent's sake, or twenty years may not suffice..."
"...Of course. Don't worry."
"Skilled cultivators train even mid-battle. Aim for that..."
Only then did Ronan turn. Jarodin was dozing off, head nodding. His gaze shifted to Adeshan.
"And you... Naviroje's assistant..."
"Yes, Professor?"
"Adeshan, was it? You... need a proper look sometime..."
"What do you mean...?"
"Last time, I sensed nothing... but you're unusual... You carry a different aura from Ronan's..."
Adeshan's eyes widened. Jarodin finished and dropped his head. Soon, soft snores filled the air.
Ronan and Adeshan exited Tower 41. He sighed in relief only after reaching the main road, out of sight of the tower.
"Whew... Thought we were busted."
"You okay? You're pale."
"It's nothing. Hold on..."
The weather remained overcast. Cloud shadows blanketed the campus. Ronan pulled the note from his inner pocket.
"What's that?"
"No idea. Hope it's just a dinner menu..."
Perhaps paranoia, but Ronan braced for the worst. He hoped "them" from the diary wasn't Nebula Klaji.
Taking a deep breath, he unfolded the note. Contrary to expectations, the crumpled paper was blank.
"Huh?"
But in the center was a red stain. Not quite ink or paint. Ronan tilted his head.
"What is this?"
"What? Let me see."
Adeshan peered at it and raised an eyebrow.
"Uh...? Isn't that a bloodstain?"
"Blood? Oh, yeah, looks like it."
Ronan nodded, but his doubts deepened.
There had to be a reason such an item was tucked in the book's center. The stain, precisely in the middle, felt deliberate.
"Definitely something here..."
Ronan narrowed his eyes at it. But he gleaned nothing. It seemed magically altered, yet he couldn't grasp it.
Maybe take it to Erzsebet. As he moved to fold it—
-Whoosh!
"Fuck, what?!"
"Eek!"
He nearly dropped it. The bloodstain suddenly spread like an explosion.
The red traces across the paper formed a pattern and stopped. Adeshan calmed her racing heart and muttered.
"A... map...?"
"What?"
Hearing "map," Ronan examined it. Indeed, it resembled a map of somewhere. Then a familiar voice came from behind.
"Long time no see, Ronan. And the lady beside you."
"Hm?"
Ronan turned. There stood a girl with her hood pulled low over her head. Frowning deeply, he uttered in disbelief.
"...Ophelia?"
"Yeah. Kept you waiting."
It had been ages. Ophelia, who left researching blood magic with Cita's feather. Her red eyes gleamed from the hood's shadow.