The Path They Were Walking (5)
Christine frowned as she studied the half-dead Maxim. “Strange. I was sure it was Senior, but something about him feels familiar.”
Black hair, sharp features. Even beneath the thick crust of someone else’s blood, his face was unmistakable.
“Then again… maybe not.”
After a long moment of scrutiny, Christine shook her head. Just as Maxim was wondering whether he ought to ask for treatment, she placed her hand in front of his chest. Warm golden magic—exactly as he remembered—flowed from her palm.
“First of all, thank you for saving me. I was so out of it I didn’t even manage a proper word of gratitude. I still don’t understand how you ended up risking wounds like these to come after me…”
Christine’s cheeks flushed crimson, embarrassed that she had inspected her rescuer before even saying thank you. Yet the gentle healing mana never faltered as it slowly mended his body.
“I truly am grateful. I swear on the name of the mage Christine Watson and on this very mana—I will never forget what you have done for me.”
Maxim had no strength left to speak. He could only nod from where he lay.
The moment the tension drained away, agony crashed over him like a wave. The places where those fleshy tentacles had pierced him felt hollow enough for the wind to whistle through. On top of that were the internal injuries from forcing his mana to circulate, the broken bones scattered across his frame, and worst of all, the ruined mess of his right arm.
“My god… what in the world happened to your right arm?”
The instant Christine’s gaze fell on it, her expression hardened and she scolded him. Even the lightest brush of her fingers sent pain twisting through his entire body. Watching his face contort, she let out a sigh.
“It’s a relief that you can still feel pain. At least that means there’s hope for recovery. If the arm had been damaged to the point where you felt nothing, we’d have no choice but to cut it off.”
After delivering the unnecessarily frightening remark, Christine carefully poured healing energy into the ruined limb. Maxim felt the golden magic slowly envelop his arm, easing the torment that had swallowed it whole. The pain gradually faded.
Christine’s treatment continued for some time. At one point she even cast a cleaning spell to wipe the blood from his face. She examined the disguised Maxim—now Arsen Bern—with a furrowed brow, searching for the face she knew. When she failed to find it, her shoulders slumped in visible disappointment.
Maxim, having barely recovered a sliver of strength, breathed shallowly.
“Thank you.”
At the sound of his voice, Christine’s expression flickered with surprise once more before settling back into composure.
“No, no. I’m the one who should be saying that a hundred times over… But am I really alive?”
Her final memory must have been vivid; she pressed a hand to her chest, voice trembling with unease. Maxim nodded with effort.
“Yes. You did not die. The place where you were kidnapped and imprisoned was the Magic Tower’s underground dungeon—a secret laboratory where black mages conducted their forbidden research.”
“The Magic Tower’s underground…?”
Christine’s face stiffened. She glanced around, then bit her lip hard. After Maxim watched her in silence for a while, she lowered her voice to a near whisper.
“Who sent you?”
The sudden, aggressive question made Maxim blink before he could stop himself.
“It was His Majesty’s command.”
His answer only seemed to tangle the confusion in her mind further. Christine tilted her head, expression baffled.
“His Majesty…? How could he have known about the underground space those old bastards were hiding with everything they had…?”
She mulled it over alone for a long moment, then asked again, more cautiously this time. Wariness, curiosity, and utter incomprehension mingled in her eyes.
“Who… are you?”
For a split second Maxim considered telling her the truth—that he had used a special potion to become the fictional Arsen Bern, that the man before her was Maxim Apparte.
…Not yet.
Even if he revealed it later, now was not the time. His mind was too clouded by pain, and sorting out the immediate situation took priority.
“I am Arsen Bern, a guard knight of the 1st Royal Guard serving His Majesty.”
The clear identity and name seemed to satisfy her somewhat. Christine gave a small, pouty nod.
“How did His Majesty even learn of this and send you? And even if he knew, why mobilize the Royal Guard just to rescue someone like me…?”
Maxim let out a short sigh.
“His Majesty has not simply surrendered the initiative of royal authority because he felt overwhelmed. He has been exerting his own influence in various places, relying on his plans and information network. Rescuing you was not something we could overlook while uncovering the Magic Tower’s hidden schemes.”
At the words information network, Christine’s eyes sharpened with interest. Of course—only Maxim truly understood the full extent of her situation.
“Information network…! Then, do you happen to know someone named Maxim Apparte? Tall, brown hair, looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly…”
Couldn’t hurt a fly. That was a bit much.
Maxim’s mouth twisted before he could stop it. He made a mental note to look in a mirror the moment the potion wore off, then shrugged.
“I’m afraid I only follow His Majesty’s orders. I wouldn’t presume to know his sources or intentions.”
I’m sorry, Christine. I actually know both very well.
He added the silent apology and answered in a shamelessly calm tone. Christine’s shoulders drooped again. The sight was so unexpectedly amusing that Maxim had to fight back a laugh.
After finishing the emergency treatment, Christine withdrew her hand and scanned their surroundings sharply.
“…We should get out of here first. Do you know the way?”
Maxim nodded.
“Yes. I’ll guide you.”
He pushed himself up, using his scabbard as a crutch. At that moment, a powerful presence surged from the direction of the laboratory. Maxim frowned; Christine gathered her mana.
The presence felt strangely familiar. Before Christine could cast anything, Maxim caught her wrist.
“Wait…”
“What is it?”
She looked back at him, clearly tense. Footsteps echoed up the stairs. When Maxim caught sight of the red hair beyond the entrance, he exhaled in relief.
“Deputy Commander Aaron.”
Aaron poked his head in with a tense expression, but relaxed the moment he saw Maxim’s face.
“Arsen, you’re alive. Thank goodness.”
“And she…?”
“She’s fine. I put her in a separate room for now. She’s in a safe place, so you can rest easy.”
Aaron turned toward the ragged Christine standing beside Maxim. He narrowed his eyes, sensing the mana that rose and then settled within her. A considerable—no, an exceptional—mage. With clear admiration, he asked Arsen,
“So this is the old comrade you fought so desperately to save? Even with your right arm in that state, you still dragged her out of this hellish dungeon. You really are something else.”
Crack.
It felt as though the air itself had frozen solid.
Aaron turned to meet Maxim’s resentful glare, silently asking what he had done wrong. When Maxim’s gaze flicked cautiously toward the mage beside him, Aaron followed it.
The mage was muttering to herself, face completely rigid. A chill ran down Aaron’s spine; he unconsciously took a step back. He tried to recall if he had misspoken, but no matter how he thought about it, he could find no fault. Rationalizing to himself, he watched the pair like a spectator at a play.
“Old comrade…? Fought so desperately to save…?”
Christine’s voice was terrifying.
Maxim forced an awkward smile as he met her gaze. He had expected a storm of curses and violence, but the expression on her face made his smile vanish instantly.
“Senior?”
Those green eyes, vivid as new leaves, were brimming with tears. The rims had turned scarlet, as though the slightest touch would make them spill over.
Maxim stood rooted to the spot, staring.
“It is you, isn’t it? I don’t know why you look like this, but… it is you, right?”
Christine grabbed his collar, silently begging him not to deny it. How could he possibly say no to her like this?
Maxim sighed and nodded.
“Christine.”
The familiar voice. The familiar way his tongue shaped her name.
Her tears finally broke free and streamed down her cheeks. She hung her head and wept without a sound.
“Senior was safe… I’m so, so glad…”
Maxim remained frozen, unsure whether he should comfort her. Then—
She stepped forward and walked straight into his arms.
He felt her press her face against his chest, sobbing. Unable to ignore it, Maxim carefully wrapped his good arm around her back. Christine clung to him tightly, crying harder. His wounds protested, but he held her steady.
“I’m so glad… so glad…”
She kept repeating the words, clutching him. Maxim gently stroked her hair.
For a long while, only the sound of her crying filled the chamber. Maxim continued to caress her head softly until the sobs finally eased. Aside from the occasional sniffle and hiccup, an awkward silence settled over them.
While he patted her back, a deliberate cough made him look up. Deputy Commander Aaron wore the expression of a man who had swallowed something unpleasant.
“…The emotional reunion is touching and all, but shouldn’t we escape first?”
Maxim gave a faint smile and nodded.
The investigation into the Magic Tower ended in complete success.
The unit personally organized and dispatched by the king had scoured the tower from top to bottom, exposing nearly all the shameful secrets it had hidden so carefully. Research into black magic, experiments synthesizing demonic beasts, curses, human trafficking—the list was long. In the process, a great number of the tower’s renowned professors were arrested.
Some of the names were known even to ordinary citizens, so the shock that rippled through the capital was twice as severe.
“My god, that professor…”
“They were really doing experiments like that?”
But what stunned the people most was the revelation that a dungeon filled with every kind of illegal activity had been operating directly beneath the Magic Tower’s grand plaza.
“That huge plaza…”
“They laid thick layers of stone to conceal the underground laboratory.”
The royal palace’s official statement mingled with the gossip-loving adventurers and spread like wildfire. People passing near the Magic Tower shot it dirty looks. The plaza that had once been crowded with weekend strollers now stood eerily empty.
“So that’s what happened.”
Three days after the Magic Tower incident had been settled, Christine was discharged. She had only grown slightly frail during her captivity. Maxim, however, did not have a single uninjured spot on his body. Even though Christine had provided emergency healing, the military physician shook his head and insisted on at least two weeks of hospitalization.
Thanks to that, Maxim lay trapped in bed, wrapped head to toe in bandages and wearing a sullen expression.
“Even I wouldn’t go near that place for a while. It feels too ominous.”
The first thing Christine did after leaving the hospital was visit Maxim’s room. With his hair and eyes transformed into Arsen’s deep black, he listened quietly as she brought him the latest news from the capital.
“In the end, they say the Magic Tower will remain closed for the time being. The mages protested fiercely, but most of the professors with real power had already been arrested, and the evidence of their crimes was far too clear. The protests didn’t last long.”
Christine sighed as she finished.
“Count Benning drew a very clear line on this matter. He could have protected the tower if he’d pushed hard enough, but it seems he chose not to shoulder that risk.”
“No, I doubt it was about risk,” Maxim said, shaking his head.
“What do you mean?”
Christine frowned.
“There are still many mages whose whereabouts are unknown. Records show the tower sent out large groups on business trips recently, and several skilled professors suddenly resigned. The royal family arrested plenty of mages, but the actual core members they captured were surprisingly few.”
Christine’s expression hardened.
“…So Benning absorbed them all.”
“Including every scrap of their research.”
What had once been a simple alliance of mutual support between the Magic Tower and House Benning had now become a relationship in which the tower’s core strength was subordinated beneath the count. The incident had only elevated Benning’s standing as an independent power.
“The royal family…”
“Couldn’t stop it. Still, it’s encouraging that we no longer have to confront Benning head-on while watching our backs against the tower.”
“Except that the force facing us has grown overwhelmingly stronger.”
Christine’s voice was gloomy. Maxim simply watched her. Sensing his gaze, she cleared her throat and quickly changed the subject.
“Anyway, what do you think of this uniform?”
A luxurious outfit centered on deep red. The royal lily gleamed upon the chest. By royal decree, Christine had become a member of the 1st Royal Guard.
When the king learned that Arsen Bern was actually Maxim Apparte, he had pressed his forehead as if nursing a headache, but ultimately let the matter slide with generous leniency.
It was an unavoidable situation. We can’t very well reprimand Sir Aaron either, so simply tell them to keep quiet about it.
Christine held the hem of her new uniform with an oddly excited expression. Her eyes sparkled, clearly waiting for his opinion.
“As expected, bright colors suit you best.”
Maxim gave his honest impression. The red uniform of the Royal Guard looked far better on her than the jet-black armor of the Raven Knight Order ever had.
“Tell me more.”
Christine smiled playfully, as though his answer hadn’t satisfied her. She really hadn’t changed at all.
“…I thought red might be too intense, but the luxurious tone of our uniform makes it look elegant. It suits you perfectly.”
“Not that kind of answer.”
She leaned in, clearly unimpressed. Maxim frowned deeply and gave her what she wanted.
“Ugh, fine. You’re beautiful. So dazzling I can barely look straight at you.”
Christine’s face crumpled in embarrassment. She thumped his shoulder with soft fists—much gentler than a cotton swab.
“Did you have to say it like that? You rotten bastard.”
Maxim let out a hearty laugh and gently pushed her hands away. Then, with a slightly mischievous smile, he looked into her eyes and spoke again.
“No, I mean it. You’re beautiful, Christine.”
It sounded as if something had caught fire—whoosh. Christine quickly pulled away, turning her head this way and that to hide her blazing cheeks. Maxim burst out laughing at the rapid transformation.
Looking thoroughly frustrated, she moved to the chair beside his bed and sat down.
“By the way… you were able to use magic without any trouble.”
Christine tilted her head at his words.
“What do you mean? Did you think I wouldn’t be able to cast anymore?”
“No, that time in No Man’s Land…”
Maxim hesitated, then brought up the memory of the rain-soaked wasteland—the scar, the unknown power he had poured into the curse. The two of them had implicitly avoided speaking of that day, but when he raised the topic, Christine sighed as if she had no choice and joined the conversation.
“Just as you said, Senior, I gave you that magic prepared never to use it again. I poured the very essence of my mana—the bottom of my heart—into creating it.”
“Christine.”
When Maxim’s face filled with guilt, she shook her head.
“I thought I was going to die anyway. It was my last attempt to stop the curse from destroying you. I never imagined it would actually halt the curse completely.”
She created a small glow of mana in her palm.
“…Those idiots in the Magic Tower must have pumped raw mana into me during their experiments. It was a loss that should have been impossible to recover from naturally, yet here I am.”
She assured him she felt no discomfort. Maxim smiled and nodded.
“Thank you.”
“Me too.”
Christine smiled back. Yet for some reason, Maxim felt an inexplicable chill run down his spine.
“But, Senior.”
“Y-yes?”
She drew closer. Maxim’s smile twisted slightly.
“Who exactly is the ‘her’ that Deputy Commander Aaron mentioned—the one he said was in a safe place?”
Without understanding why he had broken into a cold sweat, Maxim swallowed dryly.
…Did this girl always have such good memory?