#74 "If That's Just an Act..."
Ian watched Kira sniffling and thought to himself. Though the odds are low, that could all just be an act to tug at my heartstrings. But if she figured he was the type to go soft at such a pitiful display...!
Well, yeah, he kinda was. Sympathy had played a part in why he'd forgiven her. If it was an act, then Kira had some serious talent. Caught by a pro like him? He could chalk it up to an entry fee and call it even.
"No slave talk. You're not doing jack."
"...Huh?"
Kira stared at him with her puffy, red eyes, her face etched with worry that he might have some ulterior motive. But Ian had none. Any other mage spotting her might've slapped her with some punishment—tarnishing the mage's name, betraying noble trust, all that jazz. Ian, though? He felt zilch toward her. She wasn't plotting some conspiracy in mage cosplay. She'd just been damn good at the act until bad luck dumped her in his lap.
Honestly, Ian was intrigued by Kira. How the hell had she fooled nobles into buying her mage act for so long?
And... she's not totally fake.
Kira didn't know it, but Ian had seen it clear as day when she'd called flames in the Maronius Language. The fire responding to her will. Coincidence? Or some backstory he didn't know? He couldn't say. But the fact that she'd communed with the flames and conveyed her intent? That was real.
Zero proper study, yet syncing with a mystery on a single word? Worth watching closely.
"Not doing anything," Ian repeated.
"..."
"Stay as long as you want, leave when you're ready. Oh, and hand over some fireworks before you go. Where do you even get those, anyway?"
"R-Really...? I can just... do whatever?"
Ian chuckled and patted her shoulder. "Speak freely. You think screwing you over changes my life? Your fireworks look fun, but they're not some big deal to me."
Unlike Kira, Ian was the real deal—a genuine mage. She kept asking if he was serious, and he patiently confirmed he was, every time. Once she realized he meant to just let her be, Kira's jaw dropped.
"Why...? What do you want from me...?"
"Nothing?"
"Then why...?"
Ian shrugged. "Just 'cause."
"..."
On the road once, he'd heard bits of Kira's past. Orphan, drifter, foster parents killed by bandits. Unlucky girl. She'd stumbled into an easy, illegal path and got hooked. Punishing her wouldn't change a thing for him. Their paths had crossed by chance; they'd part when they diverged.
"Ah..."
Kira bowed her head and sobbed, tears plopping onto her clasped hands.
"Thank... you... Thank you so much..."
Ian stayed quiet. Nothing to thank him for, nothing to get so worked up about. Still, he'd saved her life—socially and physically. He'd made it possible for her to keep breathing.
He waited till she calmed, then spoke. "Oh. And quit the mage act. You're starting to get in deep."
"Ah. Y-Yes. Rumors are spreading among the nobles too..."
"Nah, not that."
Ian drew Anorilsil and infused it with his will. Imagining an exploding blaze, a tiny flame sparked along the blade.
Kira jumped at the sight of his magic. "Holy crap!"
The flame crawled across her thigh like a living thing before fading slowly. As she stared blankly, Ian prompted her.
"Notice anything?"
"Huh? What...?"
"The flame. Is that a normal flame?"
"...Oh."
It hit her late. Normal flames flare fast and die fast—that's nature. But flames infused with will defy even natural laws. People call them magic flames.
The one that passed her? It had briefly become magical. Regardless of her intent, the flame's mystery had taken notice.
"The mystery has its eye on you."
"..."
Back when Ian trained in magic, deep in a dim underground cave, he'd heard the earth's voice during practice. But he'd also caught whispers from the pooling shadows—unbidden. Proof of his shadow affinity.
The talented hear the mysteries reach out first. A blessing... and a curse.
"Mysteries are fickle. It's friendly now, but it could flip and burn you anytime."
Obvious, in a way. Say you spot someone you like. You wanna approach first, right? Looks, personality, background—whatever draws you. You reach out, but they ghost you? You might brush it off... or get pissed.
That's how it went when mysteries got curious about humans. Some sweetly back off: 'Aw, one-sided crush. I'll cheer from afar~'
Others turn gangster: 'You trample my pure heart? Fine, now I'm the thug!'
Hearts are unpredictable even in people. How do you predict a mystery?
Kira didn't realize it, but she was in serious danger—thanks to her antics.
Ignorance is bliss. Like or hate you, a mystery just watches from afar.
Problem? Every mage cosplay, she kept summoning flames in Maronius Language!
Like yelling "Hey, flame!" then ignoring it when it shows up asking "Why'd you call?"
Lucky for her, the flame's mystery was chill, hovering patiently: 'Busy now? Call later?' If it snapped, she'd be toast—no complaints possible.
That it hadn't barbecued her yet? The real miracle.
Sending the first DM then ghosting the reply? That's not human. Yet the flame let it slide. One sweet-ass blaze.
"Don't wanna burn? Drop the mage act."
Kira nodded vigorously, face pale. She'd probably sensed the growing power around her.
"Um... Mage-nim."
"Call me casual."
"Th-Then... Ian."
She'd called him that before—why the sudden fuss? Kira gazed at him with teary eyes.
"Thanks for looking out... No one's ever worried about me before..."
Ian burst out laughing. Obvious, right? Who frets over a cranky fake mage?
"Seriously, thank you! Till we part, I'll do anything I can!"
"Anything you can?"
"Yeah! Whatever!"
Oh ho. Perfect. Ian had wanted to test something since laying eyes on her.
"Then... show me pulling out fireworks."
"This?"
Poof. Kira flicked her hand, and suddenly a small firework nestled between her fingers.
Ian's eyes bugged out. Whoa! What?! How?! Space mage much?!
"Where'd that come from? No pockets!"
"Pfft, haha!"
Tension broken, Kira laughed freely. Right before his eyes, she conjured and vanished fireworks in a dazzling sleight-of-hand show.
Ian couldn't believe it, even watching live. Holy shit. That's magic—what even is magic?! And he'd been playing mage? Embarrassing!
He strained to crack her cosplay secrets, eyes glued to her hands. Hours passed. Nada.
Ian seriously suspected she was a space mage.
#
Ian emerged on deck and locked eyes with Belenca, who was facing into the wind. She eyed him with a oddly sulky look.
"Had fun with a fellow 'mage,' huh?"
"Yeah, pretty fun."
"Didn't laugh like that in front of Baroness Talian."
She'd heard their laughter. Ian shrugged. Lucy was a noble; Kira was clown-actress-magician. Different fun vibes, no?
Spending time with Kira—even briefly—proved it: zero boredom. Stunning looks, overflowing talent. Born in the modern world, she'd devour showbiz. Stuck in medieval fantasy? Street scam artist.
"Ian. Not my place, but... you know you're prime husband material?"
"Never thought about it."
"Then hear it now: most women would kill to snag you. Some might get aggressive."
"Aggressive?"
"Pounce on you."
"..."
Puma? Zombie? Ian was baffled but got the gist.
He'd had proposals aplenty: roadside hooker Emily, River Bill's Baron Kaltz's cousin or whatever, Talian's Lucy. Normal stuff.
Marriage age: 18-30. Modern late weddings were common; here, over 25 meant old bachelor/spinster.
A young single mage like Ian? Walking treasure goblin. First to pounce wins—from polite matchmaking to baby traps. Empire women would do anything.
To Belenca, Ian seemed way too exposed. Whatever made him think he was safe... but casually befriending any girl? Sketchy.
"Planning to wed Baroness Talian? Watch your step. Too many wives, and inheritance gets messy."
"What step-watching...?"
"Fake mage Kira? Fine, same guild. But strangers? Careful."
Ian, purely curious, asked, "Appreciate it, but why advise me?"
"You're my lord now, Ian. Knight's duty."
Fair. No land or subjects, so employer. Still, her lord. Belenca advised out of honor.
"Got it. I'll be careful."
Belenca hadn't warned idly. Minutes later, Galadin revved up.
"Ahem. Mage Ian. Our lord's first wife's daughter is a stunning beauty, you see."
"..."
Your boss is dying—matchmaking now? Or because he's dying, to hook a mage and tie him down.
"Care to meet her...?"
But Galadin's scheme crashed on Ian's knight.
"Oh ho. Stunning? Better than me?"
"Ack..."
Belenca cut in; Galadin froze. Deadly dilemma. Admit the daughter prettier? Awkward to Belenca. Deny? Kill Ian's interest.
"Why so quiet? Tongue-tied?"
"N-No... Lady Belenca, it's not..."
Me? Or her? Belenca's womanly glare broke him.
"Ahem! Not the time for matchmaking!"
No shit, Sherlock.
Chit-chat over, Drbosi Baron's castle loomed. Perched mid-river, island like Yeouido.
Fishing boats parted; their vessel docked. Word spread; castle folk rushed to greet.
First: a cute young woman. "Welcome back from your long trip, Chief Scribe."
Next: sharp-eyed noblewoman. "You've arrived. Rest from the journey; we'll talk leisurely."
Galadin pulled Ian aside. "Allow introductions. This is Lady Serena, the baron's first wife. And that's Lady Catherine, the second."
"...Pardon?"
Stunned, Ian yanked Galadin back. "What?"
"That's Serena. And that's Catherine..."
"No—Serena's the first wife?"
That girl?
Galadin tilted his head. "Yes?"
Ian reeled. For her age to be first wife... how young did they marry?! What a creepy lolicon!