Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: 10. The Dullard and the Genius (5)
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Helena had a dream.
A dream in which her family died, she was beaten by Salome, abandoned by Rachel, and then met a man who carried light within him.
The light emanating from him wasn’t even a halo.
It was simply that he was light itself, with radiance at his very core.
But soon enough, even that light flickered out.
Because Helena herself wasn’t worthy of even the faintest gleam shining upon her.
Helena couldn’t grasp hold of him as he walked away.
She knew all too well that she had neither the worth nor the right to try.
‘Yeah, this is what suits me...’
She knew it, and yet she didn’t want it to be this way.
She had so many words she wanted to say, but no idea what to actually voice.
So she simply called his name.
“Ian...”
“Yes?”
“...Huh?”
Helena’s eyes snapped wide open.
Familiar surroundings. Ian’s room.
And right beside her, Ian sat on a chair, gazing down at her.
“I-Ian...? Here...? H-how did I...?”
A throbbing headache pierced her skull, flooding back the memories she’d forgotten.
Overwhelmed by her inferiority complex, she’d pushed herself too far in training and blacked out.
Terror seized Helena in an instant.
“I-I’m sorry...! I didn’t mean for this to happen, I’m so sorry...! I’ve been such a burden to you, Ian...!”
Helena trembled violently as she struggled to sit up.
She’d made a mistake.
She’d done wrong.
Of course she’d be punished for it.
Scolded, her evaluation would plummet, her value would drop, and she’d be cast aside.
She hadn’t just betrayed Ian’s expectations—she’d acted recklessly on her own and caused him worry.
A total nuisance.
She’d surely be abandoned now. But she didn’t want to be.
‘Scary...’
Helena couldn’t bring herself to look at Ian any longer. Head bowed, she muttered.
“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry... Please, please don’t abandon me...”
“Good grief.”
Ian let out a wry chuckle and gently pressed her forehead, easing her back down.
“Ian...?”
Ian met her gaze with a bittersweet smile.
There was no hint of reprimand.
Ian simply spoke plainly.
“You’ve been really anxious, haven’t you?”
“......”
After a moment of silence.
Tears streamed freely from Helena’s eyes.
She wasn’t even aware of them.
Ian watched her and continued.
“I get it. What’s weighing on your mind. The comparisons to Vivian, too. Right now, compared to her... yeah, honestly, you’re still lacking. But I told you—resting is training too.”
“......”
“I know saying ‘don’t be anxious’ doesn’t make the anxiety vanish. But there’s no need to let fear take hold.”
He acknowledged the unavoidable anxiety.
But rejected the terror it spawned.
“I said I wanted to see what I saw in you, right?”
“Yes...”
“We’re not there yet. But I can definitely show it to you. I guarantee it. So no more fear, alright? Anxiety can fuel motivation, but fear just crushes your will.”
“......”
“And I don’t abandon the people I choose.”
If it were the other way around, that’d be different.
He swallowed the unspoken words.
“I-I... I’m... Sorry, sob, hic...!”
Helena yanked the blanket over her head and sobbed in hiccupping gasps.
It had been ages since she’d cried this hard in front of anyone.
“Hic...! Hic...!”
It was mortifying, but she couldn’t stem the sobs rising in her chest.
Like a dam bursting, the tears flowed endlessly.
Waiting for them to ease, Ian teased lightly.
“Forgot I said I was hooked on you? I even dropped that line in front of the others.”
“...I remember.”
“...You could’ve forgotten, honestly. Anyway, rest up till tomorrow. We’ll pick up again the day after.”
“Yes... Um, how long was I...?”
“Collapsed at sunset. Sun’s about to rise again.”
“Then you...”
Does that mean he’d been sitting here nursing her the whole time?
Helena couldn’t voice it.
Saying it aloud would shatter her with guilt.
Ian shrugged it off casually.
“That’s my job, isn’t it?”
“......”
“Vivian’s asleep, so crash here tonight. No point waking her.”
“Sorry...”
Helena started to speak, then clamped her mouth shut.
These feelings. This treatment. This comfort.
She’d never known anything like it.
Something surged inside her once more.
Not tears, this time.
A warmth she’d buried deep—too precious to show others—bloomed forth.
It terrified her, seemed too much to bear, yet too valuable to refuse.
The words she’d longed to say to Ian from her nightmare.
She finally understood them.
Not an apology.
Right now, Helena felt...
“...Thank you.”
Gratitude toward Ian welled up, sacred in its purity.
Her eroded faith took new shape, etched now with Ian’s name.
“More sleep? Or water?”
“Yes, my throat...”
Helena gulped down the water Ian offered, then sat quietly for a bit.
Ian watched over her patiently, lest she need more.
His devotion left her shy.
“W-well then, I’ll sleep...”
“Sweet dreams.”
“Aren’t you sleeping, Ian...?”
“Not now. Enough talk—sleep.”
“Sor... Thank you.”
Helena drifted off swiftly.
Deep rest brought color back to her face and lips.
Gazing at the revitalized girl, Ian felt an odd kinship.
Back when effort was all he had, he’d driven himself to the brink, gnawing at his own lifespan.
He’d long surpassed that now, but once, Ian had been just like her.
Looking down at Helena, he couldn’t help but chuckle.
What a handful.
[Master.]
‘...Didn’t I tell you to sleep?’
[......]
‘Why call?’
[Is Helena alright?]
‘Yeah. Woke up, talked it out, tucked her back in. Keeping her here so I don’t wake Vivian and Mercy. Them?’
[Mercy slept early. Vivian fretted a bit before nodding off.]
‘Our runaway nun’ll feel awful when she hears. You’re still up why?’
[......]
‘You sleep too. All good now.’
[...Understood. You sleep too, Master.]
‘Will do.’
Ian knew Kati’s worry.
The 1st Party members had once pushed solo too, determined to prove themselves.
Monsters among monsters, they never collapsed like Helena.
Not anxiety—raw competitive drive to stay supreme. Worlds apart from her motive.
That’s what gnawed at Kati.
Helena’s inferiority twisting into party fracture or resentment toward Ian.
‘My mess to manage, not hers...’
Not oblivious to her heart, Ian felt guilty yet grateful.
[Master.]
‘Still up?’
[Good night.]
‘Night.’
The sky outside lightened; dawn broke.
Ian remained by Helena’s side.
‘Once she’s recovered, status check, then scout next dungeon. Somewhere with a hidden piece fitting them now.’
Memory Correction recalled an artifact ripe for this era.
‘Ring of Automatic Interception Magic Construct Summon.’
Responds to wearer’s will or incoming hostility, summons construct to fire stored spells at foes.
Cooldown between shots, but no-casting launch via wearer’s mana.
Power caps limit high-tier dungeon use.
‘Tweaks by sensitivity, compatibility—but limits are hard limits.’
Still ideal for newbie Vivian, defense scant.
‘Post-recovery status’ll confirm, but that dungeon’s difficulty suits them.’
Then, strawberry flickered.
Something overlooked...
‘...Right. Haven’t bought her magic book yet. Grab one for Vivian pre-Helena recovery. Need spells for synergy.’
*
Vivian had one nagging worry lately.
‘Helena...’
Her lagging wasn’t the problem.
Growth varies; Helena was brand-new to training.
Even her collapse yesterday—now sleeping in Ian’s room—barely qualified as worry.
But knowing she factored into it? That stung.
Ian and Helena hadn’t spelled it out, but Vivian’s gut screamed she’d stoked the inferiority.
‘What to do...’
Beyond her fix, but she craved any aid.
Experience might hold answers.
New orphanage kid? Veterans bullied, sidelined subtly.
Time bonded them naturally—but Vivian accelerated it.
Make vets help the newbie.
Irony: spotting inferiority drew folks closer.
Reverse held too.
Elusive helper? Walls crumbled.
‘Won’t skyrocket her growth...’
She wasn’t Ian at teaching.
Still, forging bonds? Game-changer for Helena. Vivian believed it.
Hearing her late collapse? Gut-punched shock.
Awake, she’d amp kindness, support.
‘Ideas...’
Root cause: 25-year-old adult, yet immature.
Helena? Textbook dullard by comparison.
Ian’s focus skewed her way, inevitably.
Vivian quashed the favoritism pang consciously.
‘She excels, we bond—party morale, power surge. Ian’s time on me... not huge... but maybe...’
Childish whines masked by adult poise.
Versus Sylvia’s isolation tactics, self-harm grabs? Admirable. Productive. Adorably spunky.
‘Exercise...’
No miracle territory for tandem drills.
Assist daily workouts then?
Vivian hit the floor for push-ups.
Upper-body push strengthener.
Ian’s elbow tips, muscle cues in mind.
‘Fellow rookie—might have tips...’
-Squish.
Hit bottom before full descent.
Tailor’s gear cradled; daily garb didn’t.
“......”
Alone, yet Vivian flushed crimson, scrambling up.
‘Ugh... Anyway, Helena rests today. Tomorrow, big-sis mode aggressive. Gotta...’
-Knock knock.
“Vivian, mind if I come in?”
Ian.
“Eh? Y-yeah...!”
Vivian fumbled her attire straight.
Odd timing?
Shouldn’t he nurse sleeping Helena?
Ian eyed her face intently.
“What...?”
Ian mulled voicing it.
Face beet-red, breath ragged, frantic primp...
Skip it.
“Uh, I, well...”
Shunned the thoughts; depraved ones swarmed.
Ian stumbled verbally.
His ear-tips pink, Vivian cocked her head.
“Ahem. Any, uh... must-dos now? Swamped or...?”
Rarely stiff, fumbling Ian.
“Nah. Kid letters maybe, but no rush.”
“Hm... Then step out with me.”
“...Pardon?”
Vivian peeked past.
No Kati. No Mercy. No Helena.
“...Just us two?”
“Yep.”
Vivian’s fantasies blazed.
Rumor scraps, gossip snippets.
Unrelated duo carving solo time...
Blushing guy conveying it...!
‘N-nope... I’m hero, he’s...’
Vivian mumbled, face aflame.
“Sh-sureee...”
“...Let’s go.”
Enchanted, Vivian trailed.
Ian winced inwardly.
‘Too dense...? First for me... Careful next... But how?! Maddening. Yell or...’
“Sigh...”
Ian exhaled hugely.
“Huh? Issue?”
“N-nothing...”
Ears aglow, eyes averted—Ian. Vivian’s delusion engine revved.
Mutual misreads fueling cringe, they exited the training hall.
*
A lavish carriage rolled toward Badenverk’s yawning gates.
Masses mobbed, cheers battering; insiders hid faces.
1st Party departing for Penny’s A-rank dungeon.
Cabin: icy, stifled hush.
Entry triumph—chasing Ian—they’d savored cheers separate.
No savor now.
Identical roars? Grating today.
Kaily: arms crossed, scowl locked, eyes shut.
Beatrice: chin-propped, blasé window-gaze.
Aria: vacant palm-stare.
Sylvia: palm-note scribbles.
‘My wrongs. My gratitudes...’
Sylvia self-auditing Ian-study error log.
Subject: Ian.
Prior visit? Error-riddled.
Apologize first.
Thus, words for reunion: wrongs to own, thanks to voice.
‘What else...’
Diary’d any Ian-moment too.
Pen paused, pondering.
“Sylviaaa—! You’re the best—! Thanks for the save—!”
Throat-shredding bellow.
Sylvia swept the chill carriage, peered tiny pane.
No shouter ID.
Crowds grass-thick, surging.
‘Thanks for saving...’
Did she merit it now?
Owed Ian daily, rather.
Heart tangled, Sylvia scanned outward.
Masses fixated, thankful, hopeful.
Once routine joy.
Alien vista today.
Gaze drifted past throng.
No Superbia, but Badenverk prim.
Cityscape sparked Ian-mem.
Rest days: Superbia walks, river strolls.
Standout: debut magic tome hunt.
Pre-fame duo era.
Demon King vow, yet quaint peace—slow Ian-dye.
Eyes shut? Street warmth, scents vivid.
Tears traced Sylvia’s outward stare.
Head dipped; notebook caught the recall.
Reunion words: legion.
Possible?
Where? Doing what?
Impulse: bolt, trace from Macdullin Abbey—but no.
Ian wouldn’t wish it.
Truth chilled.
Sylvia clung to warm relics.
Someday reunion prayer.
‘Ian, I miss you...’