Chapter 344
Chapter 344
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 344
Chapter Title: A Familiar Face
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“Good. No take-backs.”
I grinned and clapped Mecklenburg on the shoulder. He looked a bit annoyed but forced a smile anyway.
“So, what’s the plan now? You must have something in mind…”
“What’re you asking? Pack your bags!”
“Right now?”
Mecklenburg narrowed his eyes in confusion. Then he thought it over and nodded.
“…Yeah, we should go now.”
* * *
Going now makes sense. Once we’re back at the Imperial Second Academy, we won’t have time to hang out.
Thwack—
I smacked the train window with the rolled-up newspaper and opened my mouth.
“Mosquito. Skinny little bastard.”
“Ugh… Can you just kill it instead of talking?”
“You gonna keep advertising that you’re Grand Duke material? Freaking out over one mosquito like it’s the end of the world.”
“What can I do? I hate ’em.”
Mecklenburg, who’d retreated all the way to the end of the train seat, grimaced and grumbled. Meeting as seniors and juniors versus classmates felt different, for sure. Maybe he was loosening up because I was being so rowdy.
I’d coaxed him by saying we’d get stronger, but obviously, he wasn’t going because he wanted to. He was going to beat the crap out of me. In other words, we had the same goal—we were both dead set on smashing Pleroma mosquito spawn. Sure, he was focused on the one in the seat ahead of him, but whatever. I gazed out at the Munich-bound train landscape, picturing myself as a mosquito splattered by Mecklenburg.
“School’s gonna be a sight tomorrow. The student council president and his week-long exchange student both vanish together.”
At the mention of “week-long exchange student,” Mecklenburg’s expression turned subtle. Probably because of the Grand Duke title. He shook his head.
“I covered with the family, and I notified the school, so it’s fine.”
“What’d you say?”
“You don’t need to know, Lucas.”
“Cold as ice.”
I rolled up my sleeves, straightened my clothes, and grinned. The skin where the thin metal band had been was slightly discolored black. Yeah, it was off. We’d warped to the Bavarian border, gotten a courtesy pass from the Grand Duchy of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, cleared inspection, and hopped on a train to Munich. Why the train specifically? To give him even thirty minutes to lower his guard and relax.
And one more thing. Naturally, that courtesy from the Grand Duchy wasn’t something he’d openly admitted to me. Mecklenburg was doing his best to hide his identity—round glasses, hat pulled low. He was pulling out all the stops to keep his true intentions—smashing Lucas Müller—from me.
‘Idiot. Two high schoolers from the north show up asking to cross the southern border, and they just let you through easy?’
Anyone could see he’d gotten family help. I wanted to say that, tell him to drop the disguise act, but instead, I swallowed my words and burst out laughing.
“Why’re you laughing?”
“The more I think about it, your 18-year-old self is just… ridiculous.”
“No idea what you mean.”
Of course not. This was the best 18-year-old Albert Mecklenburg could manage. 25-year-old Albert wouldn’t be this sloppy, that’s for sure. New experience. He brushed off my words as nonsense like always, letting them go in one ear and out the other. I whistled, shoved my hands in my pockets, and asked.
“Albert. What do you wanna do once you get stronger?”
“…Once I get stronger.”
After staring out the window for a long while, lips moving silently, he murmured faintly.
“I’ll go to school… and take the exams.”
“…….”
I nodded and met his eyes. Dull bastard. Get strong, get recognized by everyone, loved more than Adrian Ascanien… He wanted that so bad it was shocking, almost fascinating. And it hadn’t faded by 25—it twisted him all up inside.
“What about you, Lucas?”
“Me? I’m gonna be the strongest in the world.”
“That’s why… what’ll you do when you are?”
“Just being the strongest is the point. Isn’t that cool?”
“…….”
Mecklenburg turned away, his face hitting reality hard—like he’d just realized who he was talking to. The utter hopelessness in his expression made me cringe for a second.
The faint mana powering Munich’s station prickled my skin as we arrived. I led this sloppy guy—who was gawking around like it was his first train ride—out of the station. The 3 a.m. sky was pitch black and clear. Gas lamps and mana lamps dotted the streets, lighting up Munich’s heart. Mecklenburg adjusted his glasses and took in the city.
“Coming to Munich… First time alone.”
“Am I not human next to you?”
“Munich really is bustling. Big city vibes. Wish our Neustrelitz was this lively.”
Yeah, keep talking your own talk. I nodded along beside him, then said.
“You know that, Albert?”
“Hm?”
“I don’t actually know anyone here.”
“…….”
Mecklenburg’s mouth fell open as he processed it. He dropped the carry-on he was holding without thinking. I flicked my wand to levitate it up.
“No no. Someone might snatch it.”
“That’s…! That’s not the point right now?! No one you know?! You said there was someone in Munich-Frising or wherever who could take us!”
“I’m glad I got to travel with you.”
“You…!”
Mecklenburg, pale with panic, grabbed my collar. Easiest way to strip off his mask: go too far for him to keep it up. Honestly starting to feel a little bad now, but no choice. His hands trembled.
“You, you…! You too, messing with me?! What the hell…!”
“Your friends mess with you?”
“Who cares about that?!”
Mana sparked from his hand, stinging my skin. He was so flustered he couldn’t control it. Maybe pissed too.
“Joking. Don’t fight. Wait. You win.”
“We’ll see.”
His voice was the creepiest I’d ever heard from him. As he started to let go of my collar, I grabbed both his wrists fast. Let go, and he’d draw his wand.
“No, hey, you go to the Imperial Second Academy, right? How am I supposed to fight you? This is downtown Munich, you ruling family punk. Wanna get dragged home? I don’t wanna see blood here. Sorry. Okay?”
He ground his teeth, looking even more irritated at my flood of words. But it worked. How much does he love being buttered up…? Feeling the tension drain from his grip, I hugged him and patted his back.
“You’re the best. Yeah, the best, for real. You win.”
“Ah, stop clinging!”
I let him shove me off. He glared coldly.
“Say it’s a joke. You didn’t come here with zero plan.”
“Yeah, not totally unprepared.”
He finally shut his mouth, glaring and breathing hard. Waiting to see what I’d say.
“Two options for you, Albert. One: graveyard plus blood. Two: people.”
Even without knowing what it meant—maybe because of that—Mecklenburg clutched his forehead the second he heard it. No trace of expectation or hope left on his face. He muttered in a pained voice.
“…Feels like I lost my mind for a sec. I must be crazy….”
Yeah, you know yourself. Guy who followed me this far ain’t normal either. Over-the-top inferiority complex… Don’t get it, but since he’s my Pleroma buddy now, I’ll try. I patted his back; he irritably shook off my arm.
“…People. I’ll go with people. No idea what plan you’ve got, but better than blood.”
“Good choice.”
I immediately dragged Mecklenburg back into the station. When I headed for the bathroom, the last shred of his composure vanished. He freaked at the station restroom, said he’d wait outside. I changed quick and stepped out; he raised an eyebrow at me.
“…Huh.”
“How’s it look?”
“Suits you.”
Back to playing nice. I chuckled lightly and adjusted the black leather gloves that felt stiff after three days. The suit I often wore as Nikolaus was in the carry-on—too fancy for a lowly noble high schooler at first glance, so I’d wondered why it was there. Useful now. Mecklenburg eyed me and asked.
“But why the sudden outfit change?”
“You picked people.”
He frowned with a puzzled smile.
Now we hunt the Pleroma holdouts from 1891. Unlike 1886, negative views on Pleroma are widespread now. But not at 1898 levels of outright fear—just seen as headache-inducing, dangerous heretics.
I stepped out of the station with the warp coordinate book, chipper like at school.
“You like normal, so I’ll act normal. What you’re about to see is totally ordinary. Don’t worry.”
“…Glad I picked right. Then why mention graveyard plus blood?”
“Takes time, risk of cops, but it’s not bad otherwise.”
I trailed off, flipping open the coordinate book. Mecklenburg snatched it away in a hurry.
“Wait! Tell me where first. Explain everything.”
“Factory owners’ houses.”
I said that much and snatched the book back. Mecklenburg shook his head, giving up, waving me off. Do what I want.
Bavaria’s government has Pleroma too. I know who, but won’t seek them now. Nice if they’re still active seven years early, but evidence says low odds.
Instead, I’ll hit up owners of small factories that become legit companies later. Bavaria’s business world has Pleroma. They’re watched, but I remember tracing their pasts. Gotta find those active pre-now, not new joins…
“Six spots. Let’s hit ’em all.”
Cocky, I grabbed Mecklenburg’s hand and recited the warp. Opened my eyes to different ground; his shoe in my face. He yanked my arm up, voice panicked.
“…What wizard warps standing up? Come to think, the border warp was weird too… You were top of your class all three days straight.”
“Top grade and warping related how?”
Can’t grasp your mindset. I grabbed his clothes and stood, him supporting my shoulder, face scrunched. I snickered at it.
“Hate it so much, why help me up?”
“Saw your face. Now talk.”
“Thanks.”
I rummaged my memory—their files, especially old addresses—searching houses. At a rundown apartment, I tugged the doorknob twice, called out. A chubby middle-aged man with brown hair rubbed his eyes, eyed us suspiciously. Spotting my outfit, he assumed nobility and composed himself.
“You the landlord?”
“Yes. What brings you here…”
“Wait a sec. You’re truly beautiful.”
“…….”
“Know it.”
Silence. Mecklenburg blanked in disbelief but snapped back, cast a sound barrier, and said coldly.
“What’re you doing? Embarrassing.”
“Stay in character as the nice guy?”
Sure enough, the landlord tilted his head with an ambiguous smile.
“Faust. What’re you after this dawn, sir?”
Yeah, first attempt.
“Faust? Why tell me that…”
Five minutes later, at another house, a bespectacled old man replied incredulously. Second flop. I turned, opened the book. Third try. Gaunt, irritable-looking man scrutinized us, then turned.
“Come in.”
“…!”
Mecklenburg’s brow furrowed. He cast sound barrier.
“What was that?”
“Pleroma baptism spell.”
“What?! How do you…”
I held up a hand to cut him. The landlord, ahead in the dark, asked lowly.
“Where from?”
“Berlin. If you mean just now, Salzburg.”
“Back from Austria-Hungary. But that’s not what you mean, you know.”
Right. Your question’s which Pleroma parish. I answered flatly.
“We’re not believers.”
Shing—
Metal glinted in the dark. Gun barrel to my face; Mecklenburg’s wand swung at the landlord. His reflexes—guy’s skilled, worth respecting. I eyed the gun’s wear and continued.
“But you can make us believers.”
“Nonsense.”
“Thought you’d be proactive with outreach.”
“We are. But why be proactive for folks showing up at dawn like this? How’d you learn I’m Pleroma?”
“Didn’t. Just heard in Salzburg that Munich’s Pleroma—a Christian splinter—leads to eternal life, and some businessman could get us in.”
“…….”
“Details on him vaguer than that, so we’ve hit several factory owners already. Don’t believe? Check the papers tomorrow—ad asking if anyone saw two wizards reciting Faust at dawn. You’ll get calls.”
Silence. Gun lowered. Landlord holstered it.
“No idea where you heard.”
“So, not? We came from Salzburg for eternal blessing.”
Mecklenburg’s face hardened as my words flowed. Weak aura, this guy. Landlord ignored him, stared me down.
“Not outreach. And how’d rumors cross borders? Even if close.”
“Not outreach, but you’re in Pleroma.”
“Recently made subdeacon.”
Still wary, he scanned us. Gun in hand, arm tense—ready to shoot. Judging us iffy. I clocked the hostility in his gleaming eyes. I glanced around, eyed the desk ledger.
“Congrats. Businessman? Factory owner.”
“…….”
“Can help a bit.”
* * *
Money’s right. Elias taught me that. Remember dumping 50 million won equivalent on Eric Asman? Father’s allowance—Hohenzollern cash—let him splash wild. System gave me a fortune this time too. Not mine, system’s. So? Spend it.
“Normal, right?”
Mecklenburg muttered beside me, soul drained from the night. We succeeded—now in Pleroma’s world. I patted his shoulder. Face pale even after chance to cage me as Pleroma.
“Smooth, huh? Told you, trust me. Half a day to here.”
“Haa…”
Too late for regrets. I smirked ahead. Our escort priest turned.
“We’re here.”
Dark hall to black wooden door. He eyed us.
“You seem tense. Prep classes anytime. Especially if Deacon Paul knows you.”
“Both Berliners, bit worried.”
I played cool for stiff Mecklenburg. Priest shook head firmly.
“Bavarians adapt easier, but no issue. Munich-Frising has Prussians. Junkers even.”
Creeak—
“There.”
He pointed to someone seated. Among dark room’s crowd, waist-length white hair piled high. Vacant blue eyes. That inhuman, unforgettable face turned to me.
“…….”
Couldn’t miss him. World’s sounds vanished. He stared unblinking, then in his signature languid, soulless voice:
“Your face looks familiar.”