Chapter 71
Chapter 71
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family
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‘…….’
Genda Asman silently stared into the eyes of the man holding his hand.
He wanted to help.
Did the man even realize what he was saying?
He’d casually uttered words that could get him murdered without a sound at any moment, yet there wasn’t a trace of hesitation on the other’s face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No, you do.”
“This is your last chance.”
“Is it?”
Asman looked into his light sky-blue eyes.
The other man met his gaze steadily, without a flicker of doubt.
Asman averted his eyes and sank into thought.
‘Embarrassingly easy to read.’
He was trying to act unruffled, but the emotions Asman could sense showed no such leisure.
The more he read, the more the man’s feigned calm seemed ridiculous, even stirring a desire to shatter that composure and force his true feelings to the surface someday.
‘At least that one emotion is beyond doubt… First, I need to calm myself and think.’
Felix Baizel had uttered words only a Pleroma could understand.
Considering his emotions and the situation, he had to be a fellow Pleroma believer.
But if he was a first-generation Pleroma, even with emotions serving as a safety net, it spelled trouble.
Judging by when they’d become Pleroma, there was a high chance he outranked Asman.
“Baptism?”
“I’m still in doctrine classes.”
Asman nearly let out a sigh of relief without realizing it.
If he was still in doctrine classes, then naturally he was just a lay believer.
An ordinary person with no abilities. One of the hundreds of thousands who’d drawn a number just to experience Pleroma’s blessing once.
Asman relaxed his shoulders, leaned back in his chair, and asked,
“Where did you hear about me?”
“I didn’t hear it anywhere. It’s just that what you said earlier about wanting to use magic stuck with me.”
“Tell me more.”
“Once you become Pleroma, you can use magic, right? If you’re willing, Asman, I’d even borrow Pleroma’s power to grant your wish.”
He tilted his head and continued.
“But… bringing up baptism first— you always exceed my expectations, Asman.”
“…….”
Of course he did. It was tantamount to admitting he was Pleroma himself.
Realizing that, Asman forced a smile to mask his expression.
‘…Why do I feel like Baizel’s got me cornered?’
Still, nothing suspicious stood out in the emotions he read. As Asman mentally replayed their conversation in search of any oddity, a sudden doubt made him speak.
“This topic came up from talking about what I did during the day. If ‘helping me’ means helping me become Pleroma, doesn’t that contradict? I was certain you meant helping with what I actually did today.”
“Since you said you couldn’t tell me about today, I wondered if you were on the same path as me. Of course, whatever the field, if it’s a request from you, Asman, I’m willing to help.”
“…….”
Asman realized he’d been played. Whatever the intent, the other had merely probed; if he hadn’t shown his fluster, it could’ve passed naturally.
Asman returned Baizel’s smile—as if asking why—with a quirk of his lips and pondered.
‘…This is good.’
Being in the same group was actually advantageous.
Within the church, status and life-or-death power rested with the first generation.
Baizel posed no threat— he’d even handed over his lifeline.
So…
‘It won’t cause issues if I associate with him a bit.’
For the first time since arriving here, Asman was pleased that someone he’d opened up to was in the same situation, yet lower-ranked than himself.
‘Finally, one last test question.’
Asman looked back into Baizel’s eyes and asked,
“You said you’d help.”
“Yes.”
“Can you give me your blood?”
“…….”
Baizel, who’d been smiling leisurely throughout, stared at Asman with his mouth slightly agape.
‘As expected.’
Second-generation didn’t drink blood, so his shock was natural.
Even so, Asman had asked to signal that he himself was first-generation and to test Baizel’s loyalty.
The test aside, if he didn’t reveal he was first-generation, Baizel—upon learning the truth later—would feel betrayed, just as Asman had felt uneasy moments ago.
‘Let’s see how he responds.’
Fresh lay believers weren’t accustomed to blood matters. Thinking of Baizel’s likely horror made Asman oddly bitter.
‘…If he reacts that way, I’ll have to manipulate his mind and erase my existence.’
If that wasn’t enough, he’d have to kill him.
But asked if he had the confidence now, Asman knew he didn’t.
Fortunately, Baizel quickly regained his composure and smiled.
“Not yet.”
* * *
“피를 줄 수 있어요?”
He’s coming on strong.
The question felt a bit out of left field, like a test.
Probably probing how far I’d go.
One wrong answer here, and all my plans go up in smoke.
But the truth is, I can’t give blood.
It carries mana, so he’d realize I’ve been lying all this time.
I’ll answer carefully.
“Not yet.”
“Meaning you will later?”
“Of course. Once I’m mentally prepared.”
Genda burst out laughing.
As if to say, do you really need mental prep for that?
‘He’s already tossed common sense out the window.’
Who in their right mind would gladly offer their blood? He should be grateful I’ve half-approved.
‘This should wrap things up. Let’s check.’
Genda Asman
Favorability +7.5*
‘…Favorability went up….’
Maybe because he knows I can’t overpower him. His guard’s definitely down a layer.
The fact that it rose knowing that gives off a kindred vibe, but whatever— I’ll ignore it.
Pleroma wouldn’t use purely innocent, naive pieces long-term anyway, so not surprising.
“Alright.”
While I checked the favorability window, Genda spoke as if resolved.
“Now you know, but I’m a first-generation Pleroma.”
“I see.”
“As you said, becoming Pleroma gave me the qualification to use magic. But as you know since you’ve joined us, everything has a price.”
‘Gave me the qualification’?
Normally one would say ‘I can use it now.’ A subtle dodge.
He hasn’t been granted the ability to wield Vitriol yet, huh.
I asked amid my thoughts.
“The price?”
“The cost of immortality and magic. My mission is to ensure new lives align with His will. That’s what I couldn’t tell you today, Baizel.”
Even with fabricated emotions filling my reason, I could instantly tell he was spouting madness.
I ignored my budding headache and kept acting.
“A mission… Impressive. How was it bestowed?”
“You receive a revelation at rebirth. No one teaches you; you just know.”
Genda grinned, genuinely proud.
So… not like a quota of ‘capture ten people within a month.’
A revelation, not documented.
No paperwork to steal from him. For hard evidence, I’d need to go higher up.
Good intel. Time to tweak the strategy.
Then, Genda narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and asked me.
“I have something scheduled for tomorrow anyway. Want to come along?”
* * *
I shook the rainwater from my hair, downed an antidote, and sat.
Today, none of my friends would meet my eyes.
“What.”
My sharp question made Elias fail to hold his expression, leaning back in laughter.
“Hahaha! Hey, you really holed up at home for ten years? I thought you’d be shaky… but you sound fine?”
“…….”
No recorder today— too risky post-Strauch.
Instead, I used sensory transfer magic again, thanks to my words today.
It’s ‘sensory’ transfer, so no saving or replay, but I decided to test Narke’s ability a bit.
Narke, hand over mouth, snickered— no need to look further.
I called to Leo, who averted his eyes.
“Leo.”
“…….”
He heard it too.
Maybe sparing my embarrassment, he acted serious, but couldn’t meet my gaze.
Hiders either lock eyes excessively or act obvious like him. Now I see a hint of amusement.
“I only sent it to Narke. How do you two know?”
“We had to hear what Genda Asman said too. Direct is best.”
Elias answered.
To me, it seemed they just wanted in on the fun.
Anyway, they needed to hear it eventually, so no issue. Saves me explaining.
“You heard, right?”
“Yeah, we looked into it just in case…”
Leo cleared his throat, loosened his neck, and slid a newspaper from his bag.
Imperial News, back page, small corner: missing child article.
[Searching for Missing Child]
Name: Anna Bauer (7 years old)
Date Missing: December 4th, 3 PM
Location: Hyri genji Citizens’ Park
Physical/Attire: 117cm, 19.5kg, municipal nursery bag and name tag
Circumstances: Missing during free time in Hyri genji Nursery afternoon walk (3-3:10 PM)
“It’s already happened. Plainclothes cops on site 24 hours said no signs at all.”
* * *
Yeah, this pace.
In the novel, they snatched people without hesitation. That’s how Elias noticed.
December 4th— before I extracted the Pleroma admission from him, the day I met Asman third time.
No way to intervene in time.
Still, my heart grew heavy unavoidably.
“We’re here.”
I took Genda’s hand and helped him from the carriage.
Municipal Hyri genji Nursery.
While Genda rang the bell, I read the sign by the entrance. Soon, the heavy iron gate slid open smoothly.
Normally we’d chat, but today even the drug couldn’t stir the mood.
My silence made Genda Asman glance around and mutter.
“The atmosphere’s dark.”
“Yeah.”
You handed people over, after all.
We finished ID and safety checks, then headed to the activity room. Given the timing, outsiders needed a teacher’s supervision to enter.
Entering, we saw a teacher watching the playground with a grim face. Even the kids outside lacked energy.
“Teacher.”
“Ah, you’re here.”
The teacher gave a faint smile.
Genda sat opposite, speaking with worried eyes.
“I heard everything. Must be heartbreaking.”
“…….”
The teacher turned to the window without replying, then answered belatedly.
“…Gone in ten minutes…”
Genda held and stroked his hand, speaking calmly.
“It must be so hard. Even I, barely knowing these kids, feel pained— how about you, Teacher? Believe she’ll return.”
“We have to.”
He forced another smile, then tears fell. Turns out he was the teacher who’d taken the 7-to-10-year-olds out that day.
Once calmed, he said he’d gather the kids and went out the glass door.
Genda watched him toward the playground and spoke to me.
“He doesn’t feel guilt, does he?”
“…Of course not.”
Can’t you tell?
Ignoring my twisting gut, I smiled.
Genda nodded, eyeing the children.
“They should feel honored. Does such a chance to offer oneself to Him come to just anyone?”
“…….”
Hand them over and call it honor.
I’d forgotten, spending days with him— Genda Asman seemed so human.
Asman’s brain was already warped by Pleroma; he couldn’t think normally.
No salvation for such human scum. No— can words capture this ugliness? I’d find worse if I could.
‘…What am I doing in front of him.’
The visceral disgust from first facing revived Asman resurfaced. Even fake drug emotions felt real— unlike cringeworthy lines, this was pure self-loathing.
Then Asman turned, face worried.
“What’s wrong?”
“…….”
I changed my mind.
How to get explicit evidence faster.
I stared at Asman’s face and spoke.
“…Feeling a bit off. Got caught in the rain heading back yesterday, actually.”
“Oh, it rained. Can you stay here?”
“We have today’s plan. Gotta do it.”
“I can handle alone. If you’re really unwell, rest inside.”
Leave you to kidnap alone?
I gripped his reaching hand and shook my head.
Of course, kidnapping doesn’t happen same day as target selection. Learned that in yesterday’s long talk.
Visits raise suspicion if disappearance follows, so they pick other days.
Today’s for selecting a target.
Days gap before execution anyway.
Time to bait and launch my plan.
“No, I can tough it out today. Let’s get to it.”
* * *
Sick, can’t make it.
That’s what my letter to Asman said next day.
Execution set for three days later; I faked flu meantime.
Holding the warped letter from Genda Asman, I entered school.
Warp from dorm to student council basement; Elias, reading my letter I’d left, waved and read aloud.
“Thanks for the reply. Writing with the magic ink you sent— disappears in an hour? Didn’t know such a thing existed. Perfect for us…. Wow, thorough~?”
Elias winked at me.
No lie.
Ink vanishes traceless after one hour from activation.
Common now, but undeveloped 40 years ago in Asman’s time— bound to be novel.
Needed to reassure him to detail plans in letters; time-limit ink essential.
‘Problem is, even reassured, vanishing text makes it useless….’
Luckily, exploitable point here.
Long form: disable mana, and mana-formed spells fail.
So, I heated and seared the ink’s mana.
Magic shatters science plenty, but interacts with our ecosystem.
Like converting Leo’s poison to enhancer via heat/concentration.
Experience proved mana vulnerable to heat.
Could borrow Bayern paper’s camera, but no— originals altered anyway, so simple self-coating.
Leo, helping insert letter in filter, smirked.
“Still got those sneaky smarts.”
“Sneaky smarts?”
Wording sucks, but Leo seemed satisfied— good enough.
I smiled at the now-permanent handwriting and postmark, sealed forever.
No documents? Then induce him to make some.