Chapter 19
Chapter 19
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Informant
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“I know damn well you’ve got no place to sleep right now and nothing to eat.”
The pay he’d received so far had clearly been confiscated under the guise of victim compensation. Berik was utterly destitute, with nothing to his name.
He’d gotten scraps at the tavern he’d been crashing at before, but he couldn’t keep living like that for days on end. Berik scowled at Ian, glaring daggers.
“Fuck, did you drug me?”
“Must’ve been that bad, huh.”
“Come to think of it, every time I run into you, my body acts up like that. Whatever it is, you’d better spill the truth—it’ll be better for you in the long run. I don’t fight dirty like that.”
Blood surged with battle lust. When he’d slammed his fist in, the thrill had nearly made him black out. No matter how he thought about it, that wasn’t a normal reaction. The only common thread in those two experiences was this blond bastard.
“Hmm.”
Ian shook his head with a leisurely smile. He seemed a bit disappointed.
“Your form’s good, but you’re denser than I thought.”
“What?”
Berik froze at the sudden remark, utterly baffled. Ian crossed his arms and leaned against the door. He tapped near his temple, as if telling Berik to think it over.
“The water I gave you when we first met wasn’t mine—it was from one of the trainees. And you didn’t exactly refuse the jerky, did you?”
He hadn’t taken so much as a sip of water otherwise. Berik’s face grew more and more confused. He’d come here half-convinced already.
“I can tell you what you want to know. But first, we need to make a deal.”
Ssssh.
Ian’s eyes tinted gold.
But unlike before, he didn’t send mana flowing into Berik. The guy might buck like a wild colt and ruin everything.
“First, you keep quiet about the Golden Eyes.”
“No, that’s it! That thing!”
Berik jumped up and shouted. The guards behind him turned around curiously. Ian had his back turned, so his face wasn’t visible.
“And no more disrespect.”
Ian looked at Berik calmly and warned him. He’d let a lot slide because he needed the power of a Sword-Mage, but Berik was pushing it too far. With his personality, he’d act the same even in front of Dergha.
*That’s why Sword-Mages are so rare?*
He wasn’t just tempting fate—he was practically begging to be killed. The still-healing whip scars were proof. Berik bit his lower lip and muttered.
“…That’s all?”
“Finally, I want you to guard me from all sorts of dangers. Do that, and I’ll make that power from before fully yours. Just so there’s no misunderstanding—I only drew out the strength already inside you.”
He seemed to hate relying on outside power, so Ian nailed it down. Berik blinked in surprise.
“My strength?”
“That’s the offer. If you’re in—”
“I’m in!”
“Please lower your voice.”
Berik yelled without a second thought, and the guards started giving suspicious looks. They whispered among themselves, conferring.
“Sticking with me means crossing the border, too. I might need you when I come back, though.”
“Come back? Here?”
How could a sacrificial tribute sold off for peace ever return to Bratz? Even Berik knew that was impossible. But regardless, his answer was clear-cut.
“What’s the big deal about crossing a border? I’ve got no home or family anyway—anywhere’s fine.”
“Keep in mind you could die.”
“I’ll starve if I stay here.”
Yeah. He wouldn’t even show basic respect on his deathbed. Ian looked up at him with an exasperated laugh. He started to add something but stopped. After all the backtalk he’d endured, this was progress.
“So, spill it already.”
Berik’s eyes burned with intensity. A simple gaze that craved strength. Ian paused, choosing his words carefully.
“Ever heard of a Sword-Mage?”
“Nope.”
“What about mana?”
“That either.”
“…….”
They stared at each other in mutual bewilderment, falling silent.
Even in the era when Ian had been emperor, it could happen with the uneducated. This was a rural borderland from over a century ago. It was only natural for an orphan like Berik, scraping by on the streets, to be clueless.
“Master Ian. We’re running way behind schedule.”
“Time for the shift change.”
As the two stopped talking, the guards seized the moment to butt in. Ian stroked his chin and instructed Berik.
“I’ll call for you soon, so wait.”
“Huh? Wait, hold on.”
“Behave yourself.”
He practically begged with his last words. As the guards slowly pushed the massive door shut, Berik lunged after him. A long spear barred his way, foiling the attempt.
*He was definitely told to wait.*
How did he disobey an order the second it was given? Ian already had plenty to do, and now one more thing to worry about.
Ian clicked his tongue and headed toward the annex. It was an awkward hour, so the corridors were empty—no servants in sight. They must’ve finished cleaning and gone to rest.
Knock knock.
“It’s Ian.”
Ian opened the door without waiting for a reply.
He’d expected the tutor to be waiting, but the room was empty. The coat, bag, and half-cooled teacup suggested he hadn’t left yet.
“…Where’d he go? Teacher?”
Maybe to the bathroom, but there wasn’t a sound. Ian leaned back on the sofa, then suddenly lifted his head and stared at the tutor’s bag.
*Dergha planted him to spy on me. There’s bound to be something useful in there.*
Ian rummaged through the bag, checking the stack of papers. Most were reference materials for lessons.
The rest was a paper titled [Climate Changes in the Great Desert and Their Correlation with the Blaster Sea], with last year’s academic journal tucked in the middle. Surprisingly, it was published by Bariel University.
*He said he graduated from university, but it was Bariel’s, huh.*
He could guess why a top scholar was in Bratz’s borderlands. The “Great Desert” referred to the Cheonryeo Tribe’s stronghold. And the “Blaster Sea” was the ocean at the desert’s edge, bordering the East.
Swish.
He shook out the bottom of the bag, but nothing special turned up. Ian neatly repacked the materials and poked through the worn coat. Aside from pocket trash, it was clean.
“Hm?”
Deep inside the sleeve. A label from the tailor. Next to the designer’s name was a stamp that looked familiar.
*…Looks like the seal Lord Molin used.*
He traced the lines with his finger. It closely matched the gesture he remembered from Molin.
That’s when the “Bariel University” journal caught his eye again. Bariel University was a national institution, so it had plenty of ties to government folks. Ian couldn’t help but chuckle.
*Lord Molin’s eyes and ears were the tutor, huh.*
It made sense now. Servants couldn’t know about things like sending letters to the Cheonryeo Tribe. Ian straightened the coat and sat on the sofa as if nothing had happened.
*Does the tutor know I’ve joined hands with Lord Molin?*
If he was just a simple informant, no need to tell him that much. If more, then he was double-surveilling Ian from the shadows.
That’s when it happened.
Creeeak.
“Master Ian?”
The tutor rushed in and startled upon seeing Ian. Sweat beading on his skin, face flushed. He’d clearly been up to something risky.
In cases like this, it was usually a secret meeting, spying, or theft. Given he was empty-handed, spying seemed likely.
“I had some business and ran late. Where’ve you been?”
“T-The bathroom.”
“There’s one in the room.”
“Well, uh…….”
His eyes darted around. Ian waved it off as if it was fine and sat at the desk.
“I need to write a letter today. You heard from Father, right?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve got the contents and already drafted it. You just need to copy it, Master Ian.”
Ian could hear the tutor’s sigh of relief from there. Attitude of being glad Ian wasn’t paying much attention.
How could he be so sloppy? It seemed more plausible that the tutor was a distant relative roped into this than deliberately planted as an informant.
“Teacher, it’ll be late tonight. Should I send word to your place? Time’s tricky—stay for dinner at least.”
Ian probed him. The tutor wiped his sweat, looking troubled.
“No need. No one’s waiting up for me. I’ll eat at home.”
Single. Late thirties, slaving away alone in a foreign land as a poor noble. His life story was plain as day: obsessed with research, chasing it here.
Back in the palace, such types occasionally produced remarkable results.
*Makes sense why he had no enthusiasm for lessons.*
He wanted to wrap up quick and get back to his own work.
Ian copied the text while closely watching the tutor. Sure enough, something was gnawing at him—the air felt tense.
Scratch scratch.
The quiet scrape of parchment in the silent room. Ian pondered.
*Looks like he was acting on Molin’s orders. Too tight on time to visit Dergha’s office.*
Ian’s room was on the annex’s third floor; Dergha’s office was at the top of the main building. Couldn’t risk the student showing up anytime. So he must’ve handled business somewhere in the annex.
First floor: kitchenette, servants’ bath, storage. Second: butler and underlings’ quarters. Third and up: guest rooms, empty ones.
“The butler…….”
Had he gone to the butler’s room? Ian casually dropped the word and glanced back. The tutor had a knack for silent replies—his face went pale and stiff.
“The butler didn’t bring snacks today. Aren’t you hungry?”
“N-No, I’m fine.”
Ian smirked and finished copying the letter. From Molin’s perspective, it made sense to keep multiple options open.
If Ian failed—or got caught by Dergha—how would he handle the fallout? The tutor probably had some instructions too.
*Must’ve had business with the butler.*
A master key? But family heads rarely granted butlers access to seals. Maybe accounting, but Dergha’s temperament didn’t fit.
*Then…….*
He’d have to look into it himself.
Ian copied fluently while eyeing the tutor. For now, he didn’t seem to know about the alliance with Molin. Fidgeting and sweating like that.
No reason for Ian to reveal it, then. With a bright smile like a child’s, the tutor relaxed into an awkward grin.