The News Spreads (2)
Margaret, having ceased her tears, began to judge the situation with icy clarity. At first, she had resented Park Jeong-jae. Though she had lived for over four hundred years, she was a woman who had never once entertained romantic feelings. Naturally, when she first developed an affection for a man, all the clumsiness accumulated over those centuries came spilling out. And fundamentally, she had a haughty, stern way of speaking.
She disliked fire, it was true—but to be precise, it wasn't mere dislike; she was intensely wary of it, ever vigilant. As for Park Jeong-jae, he wasn't careless by nature, but when it came to handling mana, he was still something of a novice. So she had been rather strict, nitpicking and cautioning him whenever he worked with fire magic, fearing he might make a mistake. In truth, back when she didn't know him well, she had often treated him coldly, assuming he was just like the other mages.
Come to think of it, even though his magic was powerful, his practical combat skills were lacking, yet he kept charging to the front lines. Out of worry, she had yelled at him more than a few times to stay back and not interfere. Ah, it seems I was the one in the wrong. No matter how unfamiliar she was with human communication, calmly reviewing it now, she realized she had messed up. How could a princess treat her subordinate—one she particularly disliked—like that and still expect him to recognize her feelings?
"All right, from now on, I'll reflect on this and be kinder to that mage..."
Hm? Margaret sensed something off and unclenched her tightly balled fist. In the emotional haze of bawling her eyes out for the first time in forty years, she had overlooked something crucial. Ah, right—the mad plan. The suicide bombing scheme of the mage she admired, the one he seemed utterly determined to carry out at the cost of his life. Being kind to him could wait; stopping that came first. Hadn't she vowed to prevent it and stormed out right then and there?
"What should I do? How on earth...?"
The princess of Eramenia, her thoughts still scattered, clutched her head and paced in circles, agonizing. Should she storm the academy and hunt down the original scroll to burn it? Or use mental manipulation magic to interfere with his mind until he forgot the spell entirely? No, that was unethical—and impossible. Park Jeong-jae, a master mage, far outstripped her in mental magic. And what if, rejected by her, he sought help from another ally and secretly implemented the spell? Margaret ran through a mental list of who he might approach next: a fellow magic professor, his cherished disciple, a comrade in the hero's party...
A comrade in the hero's party? That was it! The real worry was if he approached someone like Rose, whose mana knowledge was limited, he could cleverly omit the "suicide mission" part while asking for assistance. Margaret had pierced the scroll's essence only thanks to her vast experience and foundational knowledge: without life force conversion, it couldn't be executed at all.
"I have to stop it now!"
Steel resolve hardening within her, Margaret raced to the barracks that very night in search of Walter H. Hellhound and Rose Caprice. Her demands to drag the sleeping princess before her immediately were so loud—clashing with the guard's insistence on waiting for a female attendant—that they jolted Rose from her deep slumber. Margaret clapped her hands as Rose emerged from her tent, rubbing her eyes, clad in light armor.
"There she is, Her Highness the princess! You can step aside now. I said step aside! I have business with the princess!"
Even against Eramenia's princess, protocol demanded the guard hold position until the princess herself permitted otherwise. Rose, having gleaned the situation from the commotion that woke her, signaled the guard to withdraw. He fled the scene with the look of a man aged ten years overnight. For a lowly guard caught between a princess and an imperial princess, it was a disaster beyond mere embarrassment.
"Uh, Margaret. What brings you here so late? Something urgent?"
"It's urgent—extremely urgent."
Only then did Rose recall the afternoon's incident: reports of Margaret fleeing in floods of tears. Her drowsiness vanished in an instant; her eyes gleamed sharply, as if ready for any shocking revelation.
"What's going on?"
But Margaret's words shattered Rose's expectations entirely.
"Jeong-jae... Park Jeong-jae is trying to kill himself!"
"...Huh?"
Rose stood frozen, blinking in stupefaction. Margaret realized she'd skipped crucial details in her haste but, flustered herself, could only flail her hands wildly as she searched for words. It was comically undignified for a high elf princess, but Rose was too stunned by the declaration to laugh.
"W-wait, Margaret. Explain properly. Deep breath. Follow me: whoosh, ha, whoosh, ha..."
"Whoosh, ha, whoosh, ha..."
"Okay, now explain."
"Park Jeong-jae, our party's brilliant magic swordsman, shoved a scroll that kills its caster right in my face."
"Sorry, that's clearer, but I still have no idea what you're talking about."
It was progress, but Rose couldn't grasp it. What idiot mage makes a suicide scroll? A length of rope would do the job without magic.
"I mean..."
"Ah, I think I can guess."
Into their comedic back-and-forth stepped the hero, Walter H. Hellhound, monocle dutifully in place. Appearing from nowhere, he wedged between them and gravely explained in Margaret's stead.
"He wouldn't die for no reason. He's made a scroll that sacrifices his life for something tremendous—say, instantly slaying a demon executive or summoning an ancient beast as a familiar. Something like that. Am I right, Princess Margaret?"
Margaret beamed at the hero's sudden, lucid deduction.
"Exactly! Though the details differ. The magic he brought was for a massive explosion—the likes of which has never been seen, utterly terrifying. If triggered, it'd birth a colossal mushroom cloud. In raw destructive power alone, it could wipe out five or six demon executives and millions of troops at once."
"Mad bastard."
Walter ground his teeth, spitting the words. No one could call it exaggeration. It was insanity. No matter how dire the war, for a grand archmage to craft a self-sacrificing mega-explosion scroll... And to use it where, exactly?
"S-so, he just made it? No intent to use it?"
"He asked me to help activate it. Said sacrificing his one life wouldn't yield worthy results without my aid."
Margaret stated it flatly. Walter adjusted his monocle, finally understanding her tearful outburst, a displeased growl rumbling from his throat.
"Selfish prick. How do you wear a human skin and ask that of a comrade?"
"Is it really selfishness? Or just... No, never mind."
Rose replied. Walter shook his head.
"He's our comrade. He might not see it himself yet, but I consider him a true friend."
Rose shared Walter's view. The party had all sensed it: amid their outwardly flawless group, only Park Jeong-jae bore an unconcealable solitude. He was too good a man—clear ethics, sharp mind, gentle nature. The sort anyone would like. But rushed through training in the Audrich Empire and thrown into war, something inside him had broken. He struggled to shed his view of himself as a "tool." He fixated on some mission, convinced he wasn't precious to his comrades without fulfilling it. Not a full social misfit or lacking self-esteem, but he clearly didn't see himself as a comrade worthy of unconditional love—and this crisis had erupted from that.
"It's my fault... I gave him cause to think I hated him. If I'd just treated him better, he might've sensed my feelings and never asked me for such a thing..."
Margaret realized she'd unintentionally revealed her special feelings for Jeong-jae. As she flushed and clapped a hand over her mouth, Rose smirked and beckoned her.
"We all know you like him. No point hiding it."
"W-what? It's true, but how did you...?"
"It shows, plain as day... or so Walter said. I didn't notice—sorry."
"You're the weird one for noticing! I've never said a word!"
"There are ways to tell without words, Princess."
Walter noted. The mood, heavy from talk of Jeong-jae's suicide attempt, lightened slightly—but the problem remained. What to do with Park Jeong-jae?
"I'll talk to him again. Beat some sense into him if needed, make him see how valuable he is."
"Not a great idea."
Rose rolled her eyes. Walter agreed.
"More than that, neither you nor Jeong-jae are in your right minds now, Princess. Talking again would backfire. Let me think a moment..."
Walter readjusted his monocle and closed his eyes. Concentrating deeply, he twitched faintly several times before slowly opening them and removing the lens.
"See something?"
Rose asked. He nodded.
"Faintly. Enough to know our path forward, at least roughly."
This was another reason Walter was called a sage: he wielded Harriet's Monocle better than anyone. It enhanced perception and cognition, but a skilled user could peer into the future's fragments via intense focus and rapid calculation. Walter usually relied on his own intellect, but in dead-end crises, he borrowed its supernatural power at the cost of stamina.
"What then? Should we raid the academy now? He's surely stashed the original scroll in its vault. I'm certain!"
Margaret's insight cut sharp despite her turmoil. Walter partly agreed but politely declined the raid.
"Calm first, Princess. Assault isn't wise. My proposal: I'll meet him personally."
"Huh? That work?"
Rose asked. Walter shrugged.
"I don't see every future. But for a struggling comrade, starting with a leader's counsel seems right."
"If you say so..."
Rose nodded. Margaret, still restless, stamped her feet.
"But what if he's preparing to activate it right now?!"
"He can't trigger it easily. Don't worry. On my name as Walter H. Hellhound, I swear I'll stop it. Rest easy."
The hero declared firmly. Only then did Margaret calm somewhat, offering a light bow before departing. Soon after, under Walter's orders, Park Jeong-jae was apprehended by Bernard and escorted to the hero himself.