Chapter 125
Chapter 125
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 125
Chapter Title: Drowning Sorrows
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After shaking off Amelia, who kept trying to grab him time and again, Siwoo stepped into the cabin, packed his things in a hurry, and returned to the academy.
The distance that had taken quite a while even by carriage was crossed in under a minute using the coordinate teleportation formula etched in his mind.
Everything in the world looked utterly foreign.
That was the emotion Siwoo felt upon first stepping foot in Amelia's mansion.
The mansion as seen by Siwoo, who had lived there as a slave and assistant, and the mansion from the childhood days he spent with Amelia.
The same place, yet it appeared so profoundly different.
His mind felt like muddy water.
"........."
Siwoo silently gathered the remaining belongings in the room.
He had burned through every last mana essence in his fight with Ea, leaving almost nothing worth packing: the suit Amelia had tailored for him, the music box, and a few odds and ends the twins had prepared as farewell gifts.
He dumped it all haphazardly onto the bedsheet and bundled it up like a bindle.
The image of Amelia suddenly flashed in his mind—sitting there dazed on the floor, unable to hold onto the departing Siwoo.
Siwoo shook his head vigorously.
"Fuck! Why won't this damn thing tie."
Frustrated that the knot wouldn't hold as he yanked it tight, Siwoo spat out a curse.
His chest felt clogged and heavy.
All the blame lay squarely with Amelia, so why was he the one drowning in guilt? He just couldn't make sense of it.
Maybe he should've lost his temper and yelled his head off.
Or at least slapped her across the cheek on his way out.
Even forcing himself to think rationally, the simmering resentment in his heart refused to fade.
Anyway, the priority was escaping the mansion before Amelia came chasing after him.
Just looking at her knotted his chest so tight he could barely breathe—he had no desire to see her face again.
Once his packing was roughly done, Siwoo removed his eyepatch and focused his mind.
"Appear."
His coordinate teleportation formula was a derivative of the dimensional transfer formula he'd been researching, already perfected by the time he'd clashed with Ea Sadalmelik.
And unlike back then, he required no external mana replenishment.
Siwoo's left eye, concealed beneath the simultaneous-chant eyepatch, began to glow as it voraciously drew in the surrounding mana.
To him—who could visualize mana flows—the sight unfolded of multicolored threads spiraling inward.
Of course, even summoning it with such fervor, the mana drifting in the atmosphere amounted to a pitiful quantity.
But that posed no issue for Siwoo.
He could simply amplify whatever shortfall there was.
As naturally as if it had been ingrained in his body since ancient times, or like the first moment he'd wielded shadows through the Gnosis egg.
With his memories restored, Siwoo effortlessly employed 'Repeated Amplification'—something he'd never formally learned or been taught by anyone.
The mana, amplified in three successive stages, was more than enough for spatial translocation.
He sensed it pooling and layering neatly into his left eye, as if sealed within the stigma.
"Phew..."
As he steadied his spirit, a intricate web materialized in his mind's eye.
This latticework embodied spatial coordinates.
Strands extended to every place he had ever set foot: most spots within the academy, of course, and even distant locales like Gulpinwood Forest, Tarot Town, Border Town, and Ars Magna Town.
Siwoo carefully traced one thread and locked onto a specific coordinate.
He needed somewhere to untangle this tangled mess of emotions.
With the coordinate fixed, next came calculating the matching formula: distance to target, plus the mass, volume, and form of the object in transit.
Having done it once before, the computations flowed far more smoothly.
A radiant golden circle materialized beneath Siwoo's feet.
Gleaming golden mana surged upward, enveloping his form.
And like a phantom, Siwoo vanished.
2.
Even in a city of witches, the sight of a man casting magic was bound to draw stares.
Thus, Siwoo warped into a dim alley of Tarot Town, far from prying eyes.
Materializing atop the circular golden magic circle, bundle slung over his shoulder, he made for the tavern.
White Whale Pub.
It was the first place that sprang to mind.
"Ah, it's a holiday today."
The streets had seemed unusually lively, and as Siwoo drew near the pub, he quickly pieced it together.
Broad daylight, yet the place brimmed with patrons, raucous noise spilling out.
Pushing through the door revealed the usual revelers carousing in their own merry ways.
A window seat stood vacant, so he dropped his bundle and approached the harried proprietor.
"I'll order."
"Yes! Welcome!"
The owner—head wrapped in a cloth, sweat pouring—set aside the beer mug he'd been wiping and flashed a customer-service smile.
There was one surefire way to conquer the turmoil and chaos churning in his head.
"Strongest whiskey you've got. One bottle."
"Pardon?"
"And load the table with your priciest appetizers till it buckles."
The proprietor's smile shifted ever so slightly.
Siwoo cut a tidy figure in the suit Amelia had made him, but it wasn't exactly high-end.
Besides, in Gehenna, every Easterner was a slave snatched from the modern world.
Lacking energy for haggling, Siwoo slapped two gold coins onto the counter.
"I'll make it worth your while with the finest dishes."
"Whiskey first."
"Right away!"
Eyeing the gold, the owner broke into a beaming grin and barked a crisp reply.
As a shopkeep, who cared if a slave flashed big coin?
Siwoo slumped into his seat, and moments later the genial-faced owner arrived bearing a hefty bottle.
Right before Siwoo's eyes, he popped the cork, fished ice from the bucket, and filled an on-the-rocks glass.
Alongside came chocolate wrapped in paper.
"Whiskey from our own distillery. Brewed with the same barley as our beer—you'll love it. Heh heh. Food's coming shortly."
Rubbing his palms, the owner bustled back to the counter.
Flash enough cash—even a slave got the red-carpet treatment. Just like back home.
But no real impressions beyond that.
His head tingled faintly numb, and he craved deeper oblivion.
Siwoo glugged whiskey into the glass and threw it back in greedy gulps.
Get wasted quick.
Think of nothing. Recall nothing.
Like a workaholic dad hit with abrupt divorce papers, Siwoo pounded the liquor.
By the time the owner delivered the first appetizers, Siwoo had drained a full bottle.
The aghast proprietor spoke up.
"Good grief, young sir—no idea what's eating you, but that'll kill you."
"I'm fine. Totally fine."
But he had no bandwidth for warnings.
Tipsy already, Siwoo fished out another gold coin and pressed it into the owner's palm.
"Another bottle."
Taking in Siwoo's bleary, unfocused gaze, the owner tsked sympathetically.
He had a shrewd guess at the cause.
Bright-eyed youth splashing coin on rotgut by noon? Two possibilities: stunning dame at his side, or fresh heartbreak.
The owner fetched fresh whiskey.
Paid handsomely—no refusing a patron hellbent on footing his own bill.
"Young sir, pace yourself. Need to hurl? Use the ice bucket. Don't trouble the others."
"Yeah, yeah... gotcha."
Siwoo flapped a limp hand and topped off the iced glass with new pour.
Hot booze sloshed down his gullet, insides scorching with each swallow.
Nausea roiled.
Yet his mind fogged deliciously.
Labyrinthine thoughts dissolved; stray worries sank into booze-wrought tides.
"Fuck... fuck... fucking bitch..."
Siwoo bowed his head low and at last unleashed the tears he'd bottled up.
3.
"Sis, I'm so bored."
The villa in Tarot Town.
To borrow Odile's phrasing, the twins' forward base for uncovering curiosities. Amid frittering away a languid holiday in tedium, Odette piped up.
"Same."
Odile and Odette alike sprawled starfished across a bed corner.
Galina the maid would've hollered at such unladylike slouching.
But what recourse?
Utterly bored.
"Holiday, so we came out. But legit nothing to do."
"No assistant means no fun."
Obligatory outing to the outpost on their day off, yet boredom reigned supreme.
Once, just wandering Tarot Town had been a blast.
They'd gawked at a fountain flutist's show for two, three hours straight, or roamed every alley on a whim to tread every cobble.
Munching market-fresh red apples while street-performing watching, heck, even window-gazing passersby—it'd all thrilled.
Siwoo's absence alone sapped all momentum.
Flat on the bed, Odette clapped her outstretched heels together like hands.
"When's the assistant coming back?"
"Beats me... off recuperating with the associate professor."
"Even for her, that's overreach! I deserve playtime with my cute assistant too!"
"True that."
Odile bobbed her head in fervent agreement, as if it clicked.
"He was adorable back then."
"Cheeks just begging to be suckled."
"That public bath trip was a riot too..."
Whispering over not-so-distant memories, a clock glance revealed past seven.
Brief Tarot Town stroll then bed-lounging—but heading home loomed.
Odile bolted upright, patted Odette's thigh.
"Up you go! Time to bounce, Odette."
"Ugh, hate it..."
Squandering golden holiday hours? Truly tragic.
Odile soothed her sister's drooping shoulders, then dressed.
Mirror check: dress wrinkle-free? Hair tidy? Satisfied, the twins shuffled downstairs.
At the landing, Odette halted abruptly.
Odile nudged her back with mild impatience.
"Quit dragging feet. Move it, Odette."
"Uh... sis..."
"What?"
"You don't see that?"
Odette's quavering point aimed at the pitch-dark first-floor living room.
Someone lurked there.
Sprawled on the sofa in freakish contortion, limbs pretzeled every which way.
Odile gasped sharply.
"Eek!"
"You see it too? Right? Not a ghost?"
"Off! Quit glomming!"
Odette plastered herself to Odile, quaking.
"Stay put, Odette. Ghosts my foot."
"B-but... no sounds from downstairs at all..."
To Odette, an intruder sans door creak, twisted in repose? Hardly human.
Tense moments later, Odile flicked her hand—decorative lights blazed to life.
"Who goes there! Show yourself!"
Mana gathered, Odile crept toward the sofa warily.
Attack at the ready.
But spotting the trespasser, she dissipated her mana.
"Huh?"
"Zzzzzz... zzz..."
There lay Siwoo, twisted yogi-style in slumber.
Adult form intact, no child version.
"Assistant?"
"Assistant? That's him?"
Odette—frozen mid-stair—lit up beaming, then scampered to the living room.
Heard he'd jetted off recuperating with Associate Professor Amelia; this surprise reunion thrilled.
"Assistant!"
Charging Siwoo, Odette screeched to a halt beside Odile.
A colossal stench billowed forth.
"Did the assistant go swimming in a vat of booze?"
"Looks like."
Pure alcohol reek.
His every exhale threatened to intoxicate the twins.
"Assistant, up. Sleeping here'll warp your face."
"Assistant! Assistant!"
Gentle shakes yielded nary a twitch from deep-sleeping Siwoo.
The twins pondered gravely.
"What now?"
"Can't ditch him here. Let's haul to the bed."
"Fair, but... head home like this?"
Homeward hour for the twins.
Yet here: assistant sighting after a full month.
Too poignant to bail.
"Hmm... tricky..."
"Bed him first, then decide."
"Yeah, sis."
Odile telekinetically levitated the booze-soaked Siwoo, floating him to the bedroom.