Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Ricardo de Neptunsia, the mage.
The youngest son of the Duke of Neptunsia and the youngest 8th-circle mage to appear in 500 years was the complete opposite of Bel.
While Bel was like a flower that bloomed with difficulty from the swamp of life, lacking opportunities despite his talent, the flower called Ricardo had been nurtured beautifully in the most expensive greenhouse.
They had lived completely different lives.
And yet, as if opposite poles attract, the two got along surprisingly well.
From Ricardo’s perspective, Bel was the only person in the world with talent greater than his own.
From Bel’s perspective, Ricardo was an interesting noble hyung who had lived in a world he himself did not know.
Strangely enough, they connected.
"Hey, you okay?"
Bel smiled at Ricardo’s question. While Ricardo had exhausted his mana over the past three days of battle, Bel felt completely fine.
Even so, Bel answered politely.
"Not really. Fighting for three days straight is tiring for me too."
Ricardo knew Bel was lying, so he let out a small chuckle and sat beside him.
'Tik'
He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a flame spell.
"Huu."
Bel stared blankly at the smoke coming from Ricardo’s mouth.
Cigarettes.
A luxury item symbolizing wealth among nobles.
Every time Bel saw that smoke, he found it fascinating.
Was it really that good?
After a moment, Bel spoke.
"Hyung."
"What."
Ricardo pulled out another cigarette.
"What’s your dream?"
"..."
Ricardo stared into the air for a moment.
"A dream…"
Dream.
Ricardo had been born with everything. Even he thought so himself.
From the moment he was born, he had wealth, honor, power, and influence that no one could rival.
Because of that, goals had always felt within reach.
He didn’t like the word ‘goal.’
If everything could be achieved just by reaching out, what kind of dream was that?
A dream should be something intense, something just out of reach, something that gives a thrill when finally achieved.
But Ricardo had never experienced anything that required effort.
If he wanted to enter the Magic Tower, he could.
If he wanted to buy something, he could.
If he wanted to do something, he could do it immediately.
If he wanted to destroy the world, he probably could.
For Ricardo, a dream was not something intense or thrilling.
It was vague.
"…I don’t think I have one."
Bel tilted his head at the unexpected answer.
"If you had to pick one?"
"Hmm…"
Ricardo thought for a while.
What is something I can’t control?
Something that requires effort?
After a long pause, he spoke.
"..Marrying a kind and pretty woman and living happily with kind children?"
Bel was taken aback.
"..Oh."
He nodded.
Even someone like Ricardo couldn’t control things like love or family.
And thinking about Ricardo’s personality, it suited him perfectly.
Having everything from birth meant he lacked desire.
He had never felt the need to want or protect something.
The memories that shaped Bel didn’t exist for Ricardo.
Ricardo smiled.
"A dream doesn’t have to be grand. I already have everything you’d consider grand."
He continued quietly.
"So I want to find dreams in small things. Like growing a plant from a seed myself. Or raising a pet with my own care."
"Falling in love with someone I connect with. Getting married."
"Working for something that doesn’t go my way."
Bel nodded in agreement.
Ricardo then asked,
"What about you, Bel? What’s your dream?"
Bel frowned slightly.
Dream.
He closed his eyes and imagined.
A wide land.
A place that looked prosperous.
His people were there.
James and Jason, who had been the youngest before he left.
Uncle Robert, a famous mercenary outside but scolded by his wife at home.
Old man William walking his dog with his granddaughter Mary.
Karen noona, suffering from a hangover, and her lover Eric.
Amanda and Frank, starting their shop early in the morning.
Children laughing and running through the streets.
And—
The red-haired mercenary captain, Raven, greeting everyone as always.
"..."
Someone once said dreams should be vivid.
So vivid they keep you awake at night.
Bel found his dream.
He would cut off the Demon King’s head.
He would gain land where his people could live safely, and a noble title to protect them.
If the Demon King died, monsters would decrease drastically.
Mercenaries would lose their purpose.
Nobles would suppress such forces.
His people would scatter.
So—
"..I want to become a noble,"
"and protect my people."
Ricardo smiled.
"That won’t be as easy as you think."
"The noble world is more ruthless than a battlefield."
"So—"
He continued.
"If you need help, tell hyung. Got it?"
"...Thank you, hyung."
My seventh memory was emptiness.
The day after we defeated the fourth commander of the Demon King’s army and returned to the Empire.
For the first time, a banquet was held for us.
We met nobles from across the land.
For some reason, I had expectations about nobles.
Probably because of Ricardo.
He was kind and hated hypocrisy.
On the first day of the banquet, we were to enter at 7 PM.
It was the first time I wore formal clothes.
My heart pounded.
It felt like when I first learned to read.
My companions laughed at me.
"Bel. Don’t be so nervous."
"..It might sound strange, but you’re kind of cute."
"Hehe… are you scared? Want to hold noona’s hand?"
Ricardo, the Saintess, and Claire teased me.
I frowned, embarrassed.
Then we entered.
Applause erupted.
Under chandeliers, on a red carpet.
People cheered.
For the first time, I felt something like elevation.
Maybe this was what glory was.
As we reached the center—
the Emperor spoke.
"Nobles of the Empire, and all gathered here."
His voice was heavy.
Silence fell.
"Today, we celebrate a victory that will go down in history."
His gaze turned to us.
"Four of the Demon King’s seven commanders have fallen."
Applause exploded.
"Truly remarkable."
"The Demon King’s forces are now weakened."
"Victory is near."
He smiled.
But it felt calculated.
"Today, I express gratitude on behalf of the Empire."
He pointed at us.
"The Hero and his party."
"Our finest swords."
Laughter and praise followed.
"They allow our people to live in peace."
He raised his glass.
"Raise your glasses."
"For the Empire’s victory."
Then—
"For our brave ‘swords.’"
Hundreds of glasses clashed.