#072
Soon, simple refreshments and tea were set before them. Accompanying it was Giovanni's unabashed stare fixed on Catherine.
"Why? Got something to say?"
Her cheek stung too fiercely to ignore.
Giovanni spoke up as if he'd been waiting for this moment.
"Plenty, actually. For starters, I can't for the life of me figure out what our lady here is thinking. Sure, I'm one of the top mages on the continent, but objectively speaking, I'm not even in Duke Chezare's league."
Well, no one's comparing to Chezare, no matter how great they are. The man had a refreshingly clear sense of self-awareness. She liked that.
"So what's your angle in wanting to learn from me, then?"
Her intention was simple. Chezare was solely focused on protecting her—with his own power, propping her up rather than pushing her to grow. But Catherine knew how dangerous that mindset was.
I need to learn to protect myself.
Strictly speaking, the ones she had to face weren't the Archdemons themselves, but their contractors.
Even if they have the upper hand in power, the other contractors have Archdemon backing too.
And they'd all be exceptional people, quick to realize she was no threat. But Catherine had no intention of being underestimated. Her goal for the rest of her life was to live worry-free and comfortably until the end. And to do that, she needed to enjoy Chezare's wealth and power without dying a screaming death. Which meant...
"His Highness Chezare is too much of a stickler for principles."
She needed a cold, uncompromising teacher who wouldn't coddle her. But she couldn't exactly spell that out, so she threw together some vague excuse.
"I need power, and I need it now. But he treats shallow knowledge as the root of corruption. He says chasing raw strength alone means you'll never master anything properly—just skim the surface. Starting from the basics is just too frustrating to bear."
Even as she said it, it sounded like a pretty convincing lie.
Catherine expected Giovanni to mock her story. But he didn't give off that vibe at all. Instead, he scrunched his face in an almost endearing way and grinned.
"Feels like looking at my younger self. Well, every mage has their philosophy. The duke's not wrong—especially for a lady with such a dangerous root."
Ash from his third cigarette fell into his teacup.
"But life's short—might as well live the way you want, right? So I'll help you out. It's gonna be very, very, very fun."
It was a genuine smile of intrigue. Mages were all the same—status, gender, age aside, utterly obsessed with discovery.
"Thanks. I'll put my faith in you, mister... I mean, teacher."
"Hmm. If it's not too rude, mind telling me why you're so dead set on getting strong?"
"Someone I need to protect."
Giovanni's smile deepened.
"Ho. That's awfully romantic. I love it. Why not whisper who it is?"
This time, no need for lies. Since she'd be relying on him long-term, letting him know who she wanted to protect might tailor the lessons just right.
"Duke Chezare."
His straight brows shot up toward his forehead. Giovanni leaned forward, cupping his ear like he couldn't believe it.
"Who'd you say?"
"Duke Chezare Jean Uld Christopher."
"...From what?"
"The dangerous ones, obviously."
As Giovanni lapsed into thoughtful silence with an inscrutable expression, Demian muttered while picking his nose.
"Like an ant guarding a dragon."
Haha. Giovanni let out a dry laugh and clapped sharply.
"Perfect! Decision made. Time for a tour of the aerial garden."
Catherine shot Demian an irritated glare.
"Why is everyone here so desperate to show off?"
"Told him a hundred times it's unnecessary, but he won't listen."
Giovanni sprang to his feet. He opened the parlor door and called out,
"Come on, up and at 'em, lady."
Two elegantly dressed women entered from beyond.
"With my lovely ladies."
The pair led Catherine and Demian out of the parlor. As they fussed over her nonstop, Demian trailed behind at a distance.
"Hello, cute miss!"
"Oh my! Look at that skin. So young and soft—how is it this perfect?"
"A girl this young is the culprit behind that incident?"
"Yeah, Giovanni's been dying to recruit her."
"No wonder he went out in that pineapple shirt he loves."
So she wasn't the only one who found that pineapple shirt hideous.
The tower's outer walls they passed were half glass, half stone, offering a panoramic view of the aerial garden no matter which way they walked. It was breathtaking.
"Looks like a prim noble miss, but must be one sharp mage, huh?"
"Impressive, miss. We've never seen Giovanni this eager."
That's eager? In Busperfield, "eager" seemed to mean something clingy and desperate.
Catherine didn't hide her rare spark of curiosity.
"Do you sisters live here with Giovanni?"
Delighted by the "sisters," they giggled behind their hands.
"Yup. No one's as rich, handsome, and sweet as Giovanni."
"No love, but plenty of pity—and that's fine."
"Love? Pfft, who cares? Money's all that lasts, miss."
"So squeeze every bit of his talent and wealth while you can. He's generous to his favorites."
Worn out by the endless chatter, Catherine slowed her pace. Demian sidled up and whispered,
"Probably nephilim contracted to Giovanni. Not all nephilim walk the mage path."
Non-mages among nephilim had it rough. From a mage's view, there was no reason to contract one who couldn't wield magic. Most ended up turning into disasters when their lifespan ran out without a contractor.
So he's the one taking them in.
A contract bound fates. She admired Giovanni for willingly shouldering so many women's destinies. He seemed less like a slick playboy now.
Then Demian called her in a unusually grave tone.
"Miss."
"Yeah?"
"About that chat you had with Giovanni Busperfield. My guess? Sounds like a pretty risky deal."
He'd seemed half-asleep but hadn't missed a word.
"Sharp ears."
"Did you get His Highness Chezare's permission?"
No.
"I'll tell him soon enough. Play dumb till then."
His distrustful gaze stabbed at her face.
"Straight talk? I'm worried sick. Unless there's a good reason, I'll run straight to Chezare. What's with the sudden recklessness?"
Recklessness? It might look that way to Demian, but Catherine had mulled it over carefully—aside from revealing her root.
She spoke her true feelings.
"I told you. To protect Chezare."
"...You were serious?"
Demian's eyes turned to those of someone eyeing a madwoman with flowers in her hair.
Why the look?
"Big ambitions are hard to grasp at first. This is to protect Chezare and myself. Sorry, can't say more right now."
"From experience, those choices usually brew bigger trouble."
"It's fine. It'll work out."
So please don't tattle to Chezare. Whether her plea got through, Demian dropped the probing.
As Catherine and Demian walked the long corridor amid the women's cheerful chatter, a tall, slender woman approached from a distant fork, nodding to them as she passed.
Catherine froze, head down. Cascading golden blonde hair, pearl-white skin—a towering beauty. If her eyes weren't deceiving her, it was Belial.
Once she was gone, Catherine lifted her head to confirm the retreating figure.
One woman spoke up.
"Curious who she is? Even without the heels, she's strikingly tall. Probably matches Giovanni."
Had her eyes played tricks? But no—memory confirmed it: Belial.
"Bell's Giovanni's strategic partner. Handles distributing our magitech across the continent."
Giovanni's partner.
"Say hi next time you meet. She's a riot."
A riot? She'd seemed lively in the Abyss too. But if she learned Catherine had spied on her there, that cheer would turn hostile in a flash.
Catherine steadied her breath at Belial's sudden appearance. As Giovanni's partner, he was likely Belial's contractor.
But I felt nothing like with Percival. How? Did Giovanni notice? Was I the only one who recognized her?
Unable to piece it together, she felt suffocated.
Beeeep.
Then it started—a blaring alarm echoing through the entire tower. Flashing red lights screamed danger.
The women huddled around Catherine, pressing her against the wall protectively.
"What's that noise?"
"Top-level alert."
"Top-level? Typhoon?"
But the cityscape below remained peaceful. No meteors or lightning.
"Nah. The aerial garden's the world's greatest fortress, built on advanced magitech. A typhoon couldn't scratch it."
Still bragging in a crisis.
"So why the top-level alert in a fortress like that?"
"Beats us. Top alerts usually mean the commander-in-chief has to step in..."
The women looked flustered too.
Woooong.
A massive vibration shook from outside the tower. All eyes turned to the windows.
A colossal crimson summoning circle, barely fitting in view, was forming.
"...What the hell is that?"
From within emerged a demon wrapped in raging waves and foam—a sperm whale, Remor.
Someone shouted urgently.
"Remor! That damn huge whale is definitely Remor!"
"D-Duke Chezare! Duke Chezare's appeared at Busperfield!"
The tower erupted in chaos.
The women urged Demian.
"Protect the miss, knight! We'll check it out!"
As they hurried off, Catherine had one thought.
I want to go home.