Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Repairing the Toy
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Even so. Despite doing something so awful, this elf was putting on a brazenly pitiful act right in front of me.
"I'm sorry. It was because of my mistake..."
My teeth ground together. Reflexively, I raised my hand and slapped the elf across the cheek.
*Crack—*
Her jaw snapped to the side, a brief silence settling in.
Before the elf could even turn her head to look at me, I jabbed a finger toward the door and bellowed.
"I can't stand the sight of you! Get out—now!"
But the elf didn't budge. She stood frozen in place for a long moment before tilting her head upward to gaze at me.
Those red eyes, so like Gangok's, took in my face. She parted her lips slightly, then closed them again and bowed her head.
"I'm sorry, Master..."
Her voice came out weak and listless as she turned and walked away. She stepped through the door, her footsteps fading into the distance.
"Damn it."
I bit my lip, set the research journal down on the desk, and pressed a hand to my forehead. With the elf out of sight, my rage naturally ebbed away.
"What the hell am I doing...?"
That slap just now hadn't been part of some scripted scolding. Without thinking, I'd struck her cheek with real anger and spat words I shouldn't have.
I'd succeeded in chasing her out of the office, but it left a sour taste. An inexplicable unease coiled around my heart like tangled thread.
*Maybe I should go after her and apologize...*
I shook my head, rubbing my face to dispel the foolish notion.
She'd see it as just another round of scolding, so an apology wasn't needed. Hell, she might even get mad if I tried.
*It worked out fine. Better than fine.*
I'd bought myself time, and she'd gotten her scolding—we were both winners. Letting out a deep sigh, I sank into the chair at my desk and flipped through the research journal.
I couldn't afford to waste time on needless worries.
The next three days. To live up to the expectations of the count and Princess Benellia, I had to compile my research notes into a report fit for the imperial court.
No matter what it took.
*
Three days passed.
For those three days, Theorad never once left the office.
The fastidious bastard hadn't changed his clothes, hadn't bathed, and had taken all his meals right there at his desk.
The elf didn't like it one bit.
*A toy, acting like that.*
When he'd snapped at her in genuine fury, she'd been so startled that she'd bolted from the room. But looking back on it now, it infuriated her.
*A toy, of all things...*
Her teeth ground together. The elf wasn't one to bottle up her irritation.
She'd planned to throw a fit if he didn't emerge today, so she pushed open the office door as if it were the most natural thing in the world and poked her head inside.
"Master. I broke three of those plates you treasured..."
But the Theorad who'd normally play along with her antics was fast asleep. Sprawled face-down on the desk, he looked infuriatingly at peace.
"..."
Frowning, the elf shut the door and stepped forward.
She crossed the black velvet carpet embroidered with phoenixes and glared down at him coldly.
His left ring finger—pillowed under his arm as he lay on his side—bore a diamond ring that gleamed brilliantly.
*A ring just for show?*
The first time those words had left Theorad's mouth, she'd considered crushing his finger outright. But there was always the chance it wasn't an engagement ring, so she'd held back.
That aside, she couldn't fathom why he'd been getting bolder lately. She considered snapping his arm right there as a lesson, but quickly dismissed it.
*Not yet.*
He still had value as a toy; she didn't want to kill him on a whim.
After staring down at Theorad for a moment, the elf conjured a chair with magic and sat.
Deprived of proper sleep in his research frenzy, dark circles shadowed his face.
*Research, was it.*
She remembered the research journal—and how he'd raged when she'd tried to burn it.
What could it be hiding? Curiosity piqued, she used telekinesis to gently slide the thick sheet of enchanted paper out from under him.
Unfurling it in midair revealed a magic circle, crude in the extreme. Scrawled notes in Theorad's hand were plastered haphazardly across it.
*This is supposed to be a magic circle?*
It was clumsy to the point of exasperation.
The 378 circuits were riddled with phantom loops that failed to interlock properly, rendering them useless. The symbols meant to catalyze the magic were all flash and no substance.
Worse, three of the seventeen propulsion runes clashed with each other, spawning errors.
*Incompetent.*
Yet the circle bore clear traces of relentless effort to improve.
Countless failed attempts, refusal to quit, frantic brainstorming for better solutions—it was all there for the elf to see.
On a whim, she closed her eyes and envisioned it: the world transformed once this magic was complete. The world Theorad sought to create.
*...*
Rain fell upon drought-stricken farmers, drawing smiles of divine praise from their cracked, parched lips.
A thirst-maddened child leaped to its feet and ran about, while a mother—no longer fretting over tomorrow's water—beamed as she hauled out a water jar.
Vitality seeped back into the dying village, one soul at a time. It offered hope to the vagrant on the verge of ending it all from sheer desperation.
The commoners' rage at water-hoarding nobles cooled. Wicked merchants, fattening their purses on exorbitant prices, found shadows creeping over their faces.
Flowers bloomed in a world on the brink of withering.
If this magic spread across the empire, countless conflicts would vanish.
*You.*
The elf opened her eyes and gazed at the sleeping Theorad. Her own eyes held fragments of memories—distant, yet achingly close.
*Still so pathetically kind.*
In an age where exploiting each other to sate selfish desires was the norm, fragile souls like his were crushed in moments.
Clicking her tongue, the elf turned to the circle and began correcting its errors, one by one.
A spell that would take a decade more of Theorad's skill to perfect—she'd finish it flawlessly before noon.
If he started dodging her under the pretense of "completing the circle," it'd be a headache.
*I'll tolerate your defiance just this once, Theorad.*
So this was merely...
Repairing a broken toy.
*Twitch.*
Her eyes fluttered open, then drifted shut, then opened again...
"...Huh?"
An odd sensation jolted her awake. She bolted upright.
Wiping drool from her wrist, she panted in confusion.
"Wh-what?"
It was bright. The sunlight pouring across the desk was blazingly so.
"No way."
Dread coursed through her. And dread was so often spot-on.
She rushed to the wall clock. The minute hand pointed to two in the afternoon.
She clutched her disheveled hair and let out a low wail.
"You idiot...!"
After pulling an all-nighter, exhaustion had claimed her at dawn for "just a moment"—only for auditors to arrive any second.
It was over. Not just over—utterly ruined. She hadn't even finished the report for the palace. What now?
"You moron!"
She smacked her forehead in self-reproach, but it changed nothing.
In the end, half-resigned, she propped her elbows on the desk and sighed deeply.
*What do I even tell the auditors...?*
"No time to sleep, slaved over the report for two days straight—but dozed off on the last one and didn't finish"? They'd scoff.
No doubt they'd demand to see the progress on the artificial rain spell instead. She'd hand over the error-riddled diagram, and they'd mock her in front of the palace delegation.
*The Deharm name becomes a joke.*
Everything else she could stomach, but that gnawed at her. She frowned.
*Did Princess Benellia plan this from the start?*
Three years ago, the palace had cut funding, forcing her into "personal research" on this spell. Now they'd dredged it up and demanded completion. There had to be a reason.
To make a fool of her? No—the palace wouldn't bother with the likes of House Deharm.
The princess simply meant to tarnish the count's reputation through her.
To a centralizing court, a house with Felgaro-level might was a thorn in the side, no different from a petty kingdom.
*"Turns out the talent Count Leoberg recommended was a total bust. Guess he can't spot 'em..."*
She could practically hear the princess's mocking quip.
Was the princess truly dragging her into court intrigue? It might be paranoia, but the possibility set her nerves on edge.
*Whatever the goal, it's too late to turn back...*
The auditors were coming, and she had to show some progress.
With a heavy heart, she examined the enchanted paper spread on the desk—and froze in shock.
*Huh?*
The circuits. The symbols. The runes.
All three pillars of the magic meshed seamlessly, without a single flaw.
Just yesterday, fixing one circuit had broken another in an endless loop of madness. How had every error vanished overnight?
To be sure, she placed a hand on the circle and channeled a trickle of mana through her fingertips.