Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: The Birthday Invitations
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The academy's young girls and boys grew impatient.
They had each received strict orders from their families.
"I'm about to sneeze for a moment..."
"Oh, of course we have to wait... until you sneeze..."
"Sneezing is important..."
On the surface, they babbled nonsense as if holding a conversation, letting their thoughts spill out.
Meanwhile, their hands under the table were busy relaying the news home via direct letters, crystals, and all sorts of other magic items.
*Scritch—scritch-scritch—*
*Plip—tap-tap-tap plip—*
*Pip. Pip. Pip.*
[Rudelriz - On my birthday, gonna cut the cake all boring and quiet. You coming?]
Those who had safely sent the signal looked up again and smiled elegantly.
As their minds cleared a bit, they even found the leisure to have such thoughts.
But why was the Count issuing party invitations like that...?
Meanwhile, Mayches confirmed that his friends' gazes were all converging on him.
Just as Mayches himself had never dreamed of making such a proposal, they all wore faces of utter surprise at hearing it.
Except for Jayhan, who was impossible to read as always.
"If you're busy, don't come. You're all super busy anyway, right? Bamper's got to go see his little sibling, Daluh has prayers, Calipan has training, Yan has to finish his sculpture, Jayhan... you hate stuff like this from the start, right?"
Mayches preemptively wrapped it up, inventing excuses in their place.
They weren't entirely fabricated. Mayches' friends really did spend their holidays that way.
"Hyung..."
But the moment Calipan spoke up in a hurt tone, Mayches realized something had gone wrong.
"What kind of talk is that? Of course we're going."
"..."
Mayches' ash-gray eyes froze solid. Starting with Calipan, the others' mouths opened one by one.
"I hate praying anyway."
"The sculpture isn't going anywhere..."
"Mayches, you're not being honest... You could've just said come, and we would've. I wanna see your sister too. She's around my Ban Dahan's age—we'd love if they hit it off. Oh, next time, bring your sister to play at the imperial palace!"
Before Mayches could even try to salvage the situation, Jayhan—who had been lazily staring out the cafeteria window—locked eyes with him.
Mayches startled rigidly. Not you too...?
Light and shadow danced beautifully across Jayhan's refined eyes.
Tilting his radiant, luminous face at a crooked angle, Jayhan said,
"I'll go. To cut the cake all boring-like."
Mayches' head throbbed as if someone had slugged the back of it, though no one had.
He thought, Should I just tell them all to get lost?
But his promise to Aiel constricted his conscience. Can't lie to Aiel...
In the end, Mayches craned his head back toward the ceiling. He bit his lip.
It was a sign of surrender to Aiel.
*Scritch—swish-swish—swipe-swipe!*
*Tap-tap—clack-clack! Clatter-clatter-clack!*
*Pew! Pew! Pew!*
The Repitelips Academy cafeteria overflowed with communication noises like the clamor of war.
December, on a certain day in a dry winter before the snow had fallen.
An odd tension gripped the continent of Illeneias.
From the foremost great nobles to the petty lords with a single patch of land in the provinces, nowhere was free of the stir.
They had stationed people in front of their household magic mailboxes starting two weeks ago, opening and closing them every five minutes.
Countless forges, jewelers, and specialist apothecaries across the continent churned out outrageously expensive armaments, phoenix statues wrought in gold, and elixirs so rare they sold out instantly.
Rumors of these lavish items spread far and wide—deliberately so, in hopes of planting desire even in Count Rudelriz's ear.
People ground their teeth.
This time, we'll get our gifts into the Count's hands. Count Mayches Rudelriz hadn't held an official birthday party since he was eleven. As his fame grew, gifts poured into the estate, but those sent so brazenly were returned pristine, preservation magic intact, with surgical precision. Your generous gift is too much for us to accept, but we are grateful for your kindness. Wishing peace upon your house, Mayches Rudelriz. Accompanied by that elegant note. A true Rudelriz Count, expert in magic, healing, and drawing lines... But this time was different. The Count himself had declared a birthday party. People crafted dazzling gifts and groomed their children to shine even brighter. They pulled out all the stops in full preparation. Only one thing remained. An invitation in that elegant handwriting they knew so well—one that always said Your generous gift is too much...—but this time bearing something like We would be grateful if you could make time to attend. And yet.
"Still no word?"
Even on the eve of the birthday, no invitation arrived. Truth be told, my plan had been to stay up until midnight and deliver a prettily decorated birthday card to Mayches the instant December 7th began. You know, like being the first to text a friend on their birthday. But reality meant dozing off by nine to Doria's lullaby, tucking the blanket tight under my chin. I'd tried to fight it, but habits are terrifying. Doria persuaded me too: "If you stay up till midnight for the Count, he'll be sad about it."
I was half-dead from drowsiness anyway, so I rationalized it as the right call. Still, desperate to deliver the card, I half-asleep rummaged in the drawer for the envelope and handed it to Doria.
"Tell them to open it exactly at midnight..."
"Oh my, I'll just deliver it at midnight myself."
"Mm... thanks so much..."
Then I drifted off to Doria's lullaby, laced with delicate flourishes at the end. But going to bed early meant waking early too. Hand-delivering the birthday card had failed, but my other plans proceeded smoothly.
"Like this, like this, like this... That's how you do it."
In the Rudelriz estate kitchen, I watched intently as Palima demonstrated. As expected of the Rudelriz family head chef, her skills were impeccable. I turned the decorating bottle upside down just like her and pressed it to the flawlessly creamed cake.
"Like..." *Squiiiish—* "..."
Palima burst into giggles at the earthquake in my eyes.
"Ohoho, everyone's hopeless at first. Want to practice on a plate?"
I did. But I couldn't. My shoulders already ached from squeezing out that one bit of cream. Indulging in practice might exhaust my daily health quota, leaving me bedridden when Mayches' friends arrived. Doria, waving crinkly bread bags instead of pom-poms in cheer beside me, quickly said to Palima, "Maybe just do the tiny cake on the top tier."
Palima agreed.
"Yes. I'll make some distracting decorations elsewhere."
Distracting their eyes...? I felt a bit indignant, but as I squeezed more cream, I marveled at her foresight.
"Make lots of decorations, Palima..."
"Ohoho, got it, miss."
Finally, I wrote Celebrating Brother Mayches' Birthday in the cake's center with red cherry syrup. The messy, sprawling red letters looked eerie, like dripping blood. Less birthday cake, more some ritual curse vessel. I glanced at Doria and Palima, who stared at the cake just as awkwardly. Sensing my look, they immediately met eyes and clapped.
"The Count would say it's fine even if you wrote it in sand."
And without delay, they plopped it atop the seven-tier cake.
"..."
Cutting it would make it even more horrific... Anyway, the cake—one of my proudest gifts—wrapped up sooner than expected. Ninety-eight percent wasn't me. With time left over, I had nothing to do.
"Shall we check the parlor where Oppa and his friends will hang out?"
Doria and I decided to inspect the preparations. On the way to the parlor, Doria muttered regretfully again, "The party hall would've been nice..."
At first I'd wondered why not use the perfectly fine party hall, but seeing its scale erased that thought. It was so vast that six boys playing in it might scare themselves with the echoes. Grenji had told me Mayches built it back when he was flexing to me that "our house is solid," hence the excessive size.
"This party's just a small one with friends."
"True. The point is the Count's throwing a birthday party and inviting others~."
The parlor we arrived at was fully prepared. In place of the original oval wooden table stood a long dining table draped in red cloth in a diamond pattern at the center. Polished silverware stood at precise angles atop it, glinting under the golden chandelier's light. Toward the back of the parlor, instruments were arrayed for the band that would play during mealtime later. I walked alongside the banquet table that looked at least ten meters long. Unlike its usual chill, dim emptiness with no visitors, the parlor smelled inviting, and the perfect warmth brushed refreshingly against my skin. As I admired the framed artwork and tapestries on the walls, I spotted an ornate display case in one corner. It was placed so well it didn't feel out of place, but I did wonder why is this here? Doria seemed to think the same.
"Shall we open it?"
She said, grasping the display case handle.