Chapter 118: Don't Touch Him (7)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 118: Don't Touch Him (7)
Shortly before news arrived that someone had fallen into the trap, Demirea was leaning against a window, bathed in lazy afternoon sunlight.
She tightened her grip.
Riiip!
With a crisp tear, the letter in her hand turned to scraps.
It was the fourth one.
Another thinly veiled threat from Marquis Evan Brissen. She didn't even need to read it to know its contents, which was why Demirea had torn it up, envelope and all. By now, the sender probably didn't expect her to read it anyway.
Demirea’s brow furrowed as she caught the word “grandfather” on one of the shredded pieces. It was likely some nonsense about him being Franz’s grandfather, deeply worried for his own flesh and blood, and that she should send Franz back immediately.
"What a joke."
Grandfather, indeed.
Demirea knew all too well how Marquis Brissen truly felt about his own flesh and blood.
At her displeased tone, Hina looked up from the book she was reading in the study.
Is it from there again?
"Yes. Honestly, he’s worse than my puppy brother."
The “puppy brother” in question was the dog named Yan back in the Siegfried territory. While Suleiman, Serie, and even the baby elephant Yan called the dog by its name without a second thought, Demirea just couldn’t bring herself to do it. As a result, she had accidentally gained another “puppy brother.”
In any case, Demirea’s words meant Evan was worse than a dog.
Hina smiled faintly at the cute turn of phrase, which hardly suited such a harsh insult. Seeing her smile, Demirea let out a soft chuckle, knowing it was because of the phrase “puppy brother.”
"I don't know why Father named the dog that, no matter how free-spirited he is," Demirea said, thinking of Suleiman. Then, as if remembering the white cat she had seen at Chermil Palace not long ago, she spoke again.
"Still, perhaps Father is better than Prince Calian. The Prince hasn't given the cat a name at all."
Hearing this, Hina’s eyes widened, and she shook her head.
He's doing it on purpose.
Then, with a bright smile that no one else in the world could replicate, she moved her hands again.
Because if it has a name, it will be hard for me to call it.
She explained that if the cat had a name, she would have to spell it out every time. He had left it nameless so she could simply sign “cat.”
Of course, Calian had never explained why he hadn't named the cat. Everyone else just assumed it was because he wasn't very attentive, but Hina was certain her theory was correct.
Hina smiled again, thinking of the unique, incredibly long name the cat had ended up with as a result.
*
Calian didn’t bother explaining why he trusted Franz.
He didn’t bother asking why Franz trusted him, either.
We aren't exactly brothers close enough to share such words.
Whatever the reality, both of them were thinking the exact same thing.
In any case, believing Franz would handle it, Calian had called him, and Franz had gone and set the trap in Calian’s stead.
And now, a beast had finally fallen into it.
"People were seen snooping around this mansion and the Marquis Brissen's estate before leaving," Demirea reported.
Franz gave a slight nod at her report. Scanning the room, Demirea asked, "Where did the Third Prince go?"
"To see his horse."
She asked because Franz was sitting in the bedroom that should have been Calian's. Thinking of Calian, who was likely at the stables, Franz gave a brief reply.
"I will tell my younger brother..."
Franz, who was about to say he would pass on the message, trailed off as he spotted Calian walking over from a distance. Without another word, he simply raised his hand, pointed toward Calian, and retreated back into the room.
Demirea chuckled at his retreating back and repeated the message to Calian.
Calian had just come from checking on Raven—who had no doubt been even more startled than Yan—and he smiled and nodded at Demirea's words.
"Thank you. You've worked hard."
Then, lowering his eyes, he fell into thought for a moment.
"It seems they didn't follow your trail, Prince Calian, even while clearing away their comrades' bodies. No suspicious individuals were spotted near the Siegfried mansion when you arrived."
"Yes. The spies from Secritia said they didn't run into them either, so that must be the case. Of course, there's also the possibility that they followed my trail and know I'm here, but just haven't been able to get close."
"If that's the case, could they have deliberately shown themselves this time?"
Calian nodded in agreement.
"Yes. It could be a trap to lure me out. In any case, my goal is to meet them again, so I don't care whether it's a trap they set or if they fell into mine. Besides, I don't plan on going alone this time."
Calian had summoned a reliable mage to the Siegfried mansion to accompany him.
"Once you return to the palace, both of you princes will be spending some very cozy quality time with Prince Randel."
The moment that mage saw Calian, he uttered those terrifying words.
It meant neither of them would be allowed to leave the royal palace.
While they might not be confined to Chermil Palace like Randel, they certainly wouldn't be permitted to step outside the palace grounds for the time being.
This was only natural for Calian. The same applied to Franz, who, regardless of his reasons, had slipped out of the palace without permission or even notifying his attendant.
Thinking of Franz suffering collateral damage, Calian smiled faintly. He felt a little sorry, but he figured Franz wouldn't care much anyway. After all, unless Calian dragged him out, Franz had no reason to leave the palace on his own.
Thus, Calian temporarily set aside his guilt and spoke to the thoroughly displeased Alan.
He already knew exactly how to appease Alan's anger.
"It's good to see you, Teacher."
At those words, Alan stared at Calian for a moment before letting out a short sigh.
His precious disciple was grinning sheepishly.
Seeing that, how could he possibly hide the corners of his mouth from twitching upward?
"...Very well. As long as you are safe, that is enough."
His anger finally dissipated. Alan looked at Calian, who was clearly dressed to go out, and asked, "Are you planning to come along?"
"Did you intend to go alone, Teacher?"
Responding as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, Calian looked over at Demirea, who was standing nearby.
He spoke, oblivious to the mental shock Demirea was experiencing as she witnessed the Third Prince acting so familiar—almost coddled—with Alan.
"My older brother is surprisingly weak, so please look after him. Duke Siegfried will arrive soon, though."
"Understood."
As a Sword Master herself, Demirea found it hard to gauge what he meant by “weak,” but she nodded as if to tell him not to worry.
Soon, Calian pulled a black hood deep over his head.
Night had fallen before they knew it. Since it wouldn't be a huge issue if they were spotted now, the hood would be enough.
Alan's face clearly betrayed his concern that Calian's injuries had not fully healed. Just as Calian saw Franz, Alan saw Calian as little more than a boy who happened to be decent with a sword.
Calian looked at Alan and said, "I'm sure you will protect me, Teacher. I just don't want to sit idly by and watch."
"Are you openly declaring your intention to be dead weight?"
"Yes, exactly. I'm just going along to watch."
Alan returned a pleasant smile and replied, "As you wish."
*
Euria's mages left no trace.
Chase's birds moved in silence.
Thus, the man only realized things had gone awry when Alan Manasil suddenly appeared in front of his building.
It wasn't that he hadn't anticipated Alan taking action himself. It was simply that Alan's movements had completely evaded his eyes and ears.
"I cannot face him."
This man was different from Marquis Evan Brissen.
He knew all too well that the power of Alan's Circle was not merely a matter of adding one to the number six.
Therefore, the man moved with extreme haste.
The moment Alan, wearing an utterly serene expression, placed his hand on the door of the small building, he sent nine people fleeing through a secret passage. After they were out, he succeeded in completely destroying the passage itself.
Chime.
Just as he returned to his spot, a sharp-eyed mage with long, silver-red hair loosely tied back stepped into the building.
Step, step.
He knew those slow, deliberate footsteps signaled the end of his life. Thus, instead of drawing his sword, he calmly adjusted his monocle.
And then, he asked, "Are you looking for a particular book?"
*
Alan did not answer immediately.
As he closed the shop door and took another step inside, the windows, doors, walls, and ceiling began to vibrate.
All the barriers installed in the shop activated at once.
The doors locked, the shutters slammed down, and the glass skylight on the ceiling was blocked off.
The man held his tongue.
This was not his doing.
The one who had turned the entire shop into a cage was, of course, Alan.
Alan, who had been standing several feet away, took another step and vanished. An instant later, a leisurely voice sounded from right behind him.
"Not a book. But I do have a question."
The man’s hands began to tremble.
It was pure terror.
As he fought the fear that threatened to freeze his very heart, Alan’s figure vanished once more, only to reappear directly in front of him.
"I heard that while Devlan is a snake, he dotes on his son excessively. There is no way he would pull a stunt like this when his only son is in the royal palace."
As he listened, the man took a short, sharp breath.
He was trying to bite down on the poison in his mouth.
At that exact moment, a sharp snap! echoed from Alan's hand.
The gravity pressing down on him instantly multiplied.
His movements ground to a halt.
He felt as if every muscle was sinking into the earth; he couldn't move an inch. He barely managed to roll his eyes to look at Alan.
A red sphere the size of a human eyeball materialized above Alan's hand. It looked like flowing lava trapped inside a glass marble.
He knew all too well what it was.
The power of fire, compressed to an unimaginable degree.
A fire that would use a human body as its host upon the slightest touch, burning unceasingly until it melted the heart. It was a power that only Alan Manasil could wield in this world—the 7th Circle spell, Flame Sphere.
Alan sent it down beneath the shop floor. The sphere passed straight through the wood without leaving a mark and vanished.
Alan's calm voice rang in his ears.
"You know exactly who I am, yet you dare try to use poison in my presence?"
Above the hand of Alan, who utterly detested poison, a second Flame Sphere rose.
From deep below, a horrific scream echoed.
Veins bulged in the man's eyes.
Seeing this, Alan spoke, his voice still quiet. "One is dead. Only one. You had best weigh your options carefully."
The man glared at Alan without answering. His refusal to spit out the poison was as good as a refusal to talk.
Alan did not wait for an answer.
The second Flame Sphere dropped from his hand. Then, wearing a smile gentler than ever, Alan spoke again.
"For I am not as soft as my disciple."
Another scream followed.
A third Flame Sphere rose.
"...White Eagle."
Alan looked into his eyes and called him by the name that had once been his.