The Romance Heroine Wants to Meet Me

"The romance fantasy protagonist wants to meet me?"

At Lena's words, Breck and I both let out short sighs.

"A mage."

"Ha, damn it. Those guys are a pain..."

As Breck said, mages were troublesome opponents.

"So we have to break through their workshop?"

The first thing mages do when they set up shop is create their domain—a workshop.

If it were just a pass-through spot, maybe not, but a mage spreading drugs like this? No way they didn't have one.

And those workshops were typically lined with countless magic circles supporting the mage.

Dealing with a mage hunkered down in one was naturally a tricky affair.

"Lena, what's the mage's rank?"

First things first, we needed to know how strong they were.

"Ah, Lord Abel. One moment... Hmm... Red, about red rank."

"Red, huh."

I felt a small sense of relief at Lena's report.

I hadn't been particularly interested so I'd never looked into it before, but there was Bella, another Nebla bastard child.

Her robe had piqued my curiosity once, so I'd dug into it.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Why do mages' robes vary in color?

What I'd uncovered was that mages take exams at the Mage Tower based on their achievements and receive robes upon passing.

They start with white robes, gradually dyeing them darker, ending in black.

Red sat right in the middle.

Put simply, it was the line dividing regular mages from high mages.

"Abel, you've taken down a blue mage's workshop before, right?"

"Huh? Oh, that."

Breck was referring to the time a blue mage—one rank above red—had put a massive bounty on my head to kill me.

He seemed to think that experience could help resolve this mess.

"It won't be much help, though."

"Huh? Why? Isn't blue a higher rank?"

True, in theory.

Blue was above red—top-tier high mage, basically.

That guy had definitely been strong.

He'd put out over twice the power fighting in his workshop compared to outside.

"But that idiot built his workshop in the middle of an empty field with nothing around."

Was he too full of himself from his achievements, or did he think non-mages were idiots?

He'd set it up in a barren plain with no civilians nearby.

No matter how advantageous a workshop was, just blow the whole thing up.

"I deliberately triggered the alarm spell, stalled for time, then blew the place sky-high with bombs planted all around. Can't do the same here..."

"Yeah. Civilians nearby."

Hurting civilians was a headache.

Not out of some humanitarian or moral qualms—though we weren't above that.

Even if it was an accident, harming Empire civilians would bring the full weight of the Empire down on us.

No matter the goal of cracking down on drugs, civilian casualties crossed lines.

You don't blow up a house to kill a bug.

"First, we need intel on this mage. Dig through the Mage Tower records. Let's wrap up for now."

Breck said that, picking up the sketch Lena had drawn of the drug incident's culprit—the mage.

"I'll take this and lean on the Tower. If a high mage with a red robe is behind the drug mess, they'll cooperate."

"Ah, then I'll add my signature. A sketch with [White Shadow]'s sign carries more weight than one alone."

"Good. I'll contact you once I get the mage's info from the Tower."

With that, Lena headed back to [White Shadow] first.

Mist and I no longer needed to hit minor families around, so we used the free time.

Simply put, killing time.

"So that's why you came to me?"

The Master shot back at my explanation, looking utterly incredulous.

His eyes screamed "crazy bastard."

"Haha. Ah, didn't want to show up empty-handed, so I brought fruit. Come on, let's go in and have some."

The Master eyed me like a snake slithering over a wall, then sighed and stepped aside from the door his body had been blocking.

"Fuu... Come in."

"Thanks."

His house was cleaner than expected.

Not flashy, but filled with serene decorations that put the mind at ease.

Jazz faintly playing from the phonograph soothed the body and soul.

"Hm...?"

As I set the fruit basket on the table, my eyes were naturally drawn to something that didn't fit the tranquil vibe.

"Master, this."

"Hm... Ah, old gear I used to use a lot. Junk now, though."

Junk?

I turned at his words, examining the wall packed with equipment.

Chain armor to block arrows, lightweight knight gear from this era.

And flanking it: swords, daggers, countless firearms.

All in pristine condition—ready to use right now, even.

"Isn't that a bit too modest?"

"If I don't use it, it's junk. Here, drink. For a guest, this much."

Click.

Not a cocktail, but fine liquor.

A sip paired surprisingly well with the fruit I'd brought.

"Mist, sit."

"Yes, understood."

Thud.

Jazz that didn't interrupt casual talk, good booze.

As I sipped and savored the aroma without thinking, I remembered why I'd come.

"Master."

"Hm?"

I called to him across the table, where he sat nursing his drink with fruit Mist had prepared as a side.

"Got something to ask."

As if I'd come with no plan.

Half-joking, sure.

"The shop got half-wrecked that day. Wanted details on what went down."

The Master was skilled. I'd never seen it firsthand, but his subtle mana control screamed powerhouse.

Even ambushed, with him there? Half the shop destroyed?

I glanced at the gear filling the wall.

No matter how I looked, something was off.

"Fuu."

Reading the doubt in my gaze, he shook his head with a short sigh.

"First, correct a misconception."

"Hm?"

Misconception?

"I'm not the powerhouse you think."

He laid out his story simply.

To sum up his ten-minute tale:

"So, short version: I was strong in my prime, but took a job beyond my league and wrecked my body?"

"Exactly. Basic mana control's possible, maybe. But the body's ruined beyond repair. See for yourself."

As he spoke, he released his mana.

An extremely quiet release—so subtle you'd miss it without focus.

But that's what made the disconnect between mana and body glaring.

"For real..."

Like water and oil.

Mana of such purity, yet the body rejecting it.

"Cases like this exist, huh."

Mana awakening toughens the body accordingly.

Even without training, I could output dozens of times a normal person's strength.

But the Master's state defied that logic.

No matter how potent the mana, a wrecked body couldn't channel it properly.

"Well, honed my mana control ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as a result."

"Hmm. Got it."

Truth be told, I'd suspected him briefly at first.

Going down too easily felt off.

"Honestly, I suspected you at first. Stories love that trope, right? Ally who backstabs."

"Heh... Yeah, I'd suspect me too."

He nodded in understanding.

"One question, if I may."

"Hm?"

Mist peeled an apple in one fluid motion, then continued looking at the Master.

"You've likely ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heard of the drug Miraz by now."

"Yeah. Nostra family tipped me off."

"We haven't encountered any Awakened who gained abilities from Miraz yet."

Miraz supply had dried up long ago.

Maybe why—no encounters with its forced Awakened.

Forced awakenings via drugs tended to kill soon after, making them rare anyway.

"So we wanted your insight. You're the only one who's seen a Miraz-induced forced awakening up close."

"Ask Nostra grunts. Won't get much from me."

Mist shook her head at that.

"No. We need the eye of a former powerhouse."

"Hmm..."

He closed his eyes, stroking his chin beard, then spoke gravely.

"Wasn't sure, and it looked like an ability anyway, so I figured it was just paranoia. Didn't mention it."

"Huh? There was something?"

"Told you, paranoia."

He sipped his drink, exhaling like a sigh.

"Head and logic screamed ability. Matched ones I'd fought before."

I hadn't sensed anything off from Miraz Awakened footage either.

Using mana instinctively was peak Awakened trait, and the videos showed it clear.

"But... something wasn't right."

I still remembered.

The junkie who stumbled into my shop Glen Luna.

Thought he was just another druggie, but after serving his drink, he surged mana and blew half the place.

His mana.

"It was slow."

Too fast for a mage, yet a frame lag for an Awakened.

"That's why I didn't say. Could've been a trick of the moment."

"...Huh. Solid info."

With good intel from the Master, I killed time chatting idly at his place.

"Roughly wrapped things up?"

A few odd bits nagged, but I'd cleared them.

Reason for the shop's damage: figured out.

Prepped my ability in case the Master was targeted.

Culprit's face: identified.

In the house Breck prepped, lounging in "my" room's chair, about to read, when:

Knock. Knock.

"Hm? Come in."

Creeeak.

"Pardon the intrusion."

"What's up?"

I glanced out the window at the sky.

Moon high, bedtime.

Mist was my maid attendant, but she rarely entered at night.

Though she stared while I woke mornings—issue there.

"[White Shadow] has a message for Lord Abel."

"Hm?"

I took the paper from her bosom, reading slowly.

"..."

The writing was straightforward.

So, this world's romance fantasy heroine wanted to meet me?

The next day, Imperial Capital dawn.

From the first airship arriving, a woman disembarked.

Hair rejecting all worldly colors—pure white.

Beauty like a goddess's sculpture.

The Pure White Saintess, Ariel.

"Nngh."

Ariel stretched tall, easing her stiff shoulders from the chest strap.

"As expected."

Shoulders loosening, she smiled at the airport bustling despite the early hour.

Far better than screams—peace like this was best.