Chapter 143
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 143
Chapter Title: No Report, Just Sick Leave
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"I have nothing to report, but I'll grant you sick leave."
The prestige and influence of the Bolt Marquis House and the Malroy Count House were by no means insignificant in the Empire.
It was enough for them to walk around anywhere with shoulders back and noses held high.
In particular, the Malroy Count House maintained a bustling commercial district in their territory where materials related to mages' research circulated actively, and as a family involved in the gate business, their wealth was unmatched.
The key powerholders of the two families, who were busy managing their territories and expanding their power and wealth, had gathered at the capital's Church.
At that gathering, even Doran, the dean of Lofty Academy, couldn't hide his weary expression as he held his position.
...
"I'm sorry to the Count, but even with my holy magic, this is truly the best I can do..."
"You've done well."
No matter how vast the Malroy Count House's wealth reached the heavens, there were things it couldn't accomplish.
"Preserving the form of the eyeball was the best we could do. If it had been an ordinary priest, they would have had to extract the contaminated eyeball."
Thinking it was indeed the best outcome as the priest said, Count Malroy nodded and expressed his gratitude.
"I won't forget the grace my priest has bestowed upon me."
The family's eldest son.
Despite summoning the most skilled priest in the capital's Church upon hearing that Isaac Malroy's one eye had been pierced by something, it couldn't be fully restored.
Part of the problem was missing the treatment window, but more than that, it wasn't a normal wound—it had been influenced by something negative and bizarre.
This was something different from black magic in a subtle way, something even the veteran priest with the most experience had never seen before.
It resembled a scratch from an undead, or the magical traces left by ghosts like banshees, but it matched nothing exactly, making purification extremely difficult.
'This is driving me mad...'
He wanted to smack this foolish son right then and there, but there were too many eyes watching.
Skipping class without permission with the Bolt family's eldest son and slacking off in an empty lot, only to be ambushed by some assailant?
Even stories they could turn a blind eye to had their limits.
Suppressing the boiling rage inside, the Count glared at Isaac, who brazenly held his head high.
"Though this father had expectations for you, did I ever burden you to the point of rebellion or waywardness? If you can't give a convincing reason for this deranged behavior, you'd better prepare yourself."
"..."
Isaac's gaze, showing not a shred of remorse, only twisted the Count's insides further.
"Making lame excuses like placing catalysts and materials in the empty lot while slacking off... Are you truly testing your father's patience?"
"Please hear me out first and then judge. This is truly important."
"Sigh..."
Letting out a deep sigh, the Count removed the bracelet-shaped magic tool from his wrist and placed it on the bedside table.
Running his now lighter hand irritably through his hair, he enveloped the surroundings with mana for soundproofing and glared at Isaac, who swallowed dryly in tension.
Manipulating mana carelessly inside Church grounds was hardly proper etiquette, but given the major incident, no one disturbed them.
With the potential for immediate violence depending on his response, Isaac carefully selected his most intriguing words first.
"We might be able to advance gate technology by leaps and bounds beyond its current state."
It was a far-reaching claim, but not entirely unrelated.
The Count's irritable expression softened slightly, his eyebrow twitching as he glanced around before ordering Isaac.
"...Explain in detail."
It was the expected reaction from a father who would unhesitatingly choose achievements that could flatten one of his son's eyes and outshine other mages without a second thought.
Isaac pulled himself together and, despite one eye being burst, instinctively grabbed the dimensional fragments from his bag first.
He prioritized the fragments over Robert because he needed his father's help to clean up this mess and secure his position as heir.
In that situation, continuing to think about social survival—he was admirably proud of himself for it.
'Even I think this was a chillingly brilliant and efficient decision. One hundred points.'
Losing one eye hurt to the bone, but seeing the chaos around Robert next to him actually calmed him and made him grateful for his own situation.
To survive an encounter with that madman and regain consciousness—what kind of luck was this?
Isaac inwardly praised his own intellect and fortune as he pulled out the bag placed beside the bed.
He briefly showed the two precious dimensional fragments stored inside and gave his father a short, punchy explanation.
Hearing the summarized explanation, Count Malroy's mind raced at full speed.
"..."
What Isaac said was fantastical and hard to believe, but it wasn't impossible.
The demons communicated with and summoned by black mages were already beings from Pandemonium.
Demons could be seen as entities from another dimension, and the same went for the goddess and angels worshipped by the Church.
Thus, discussions and tales of other dimensions where humans lived weren't nonexistent.
However, even if another human realm existed, without proof, it remained in the realm of curious fantasy.
'If this is true, our family name will be etched into every book on magic and history...'
Without that strange lump, Count Malroy would have slapped his son outright.
No matter how much Isaac resembled him in talent for research and magic.
Claiming success in a field even renowned mages had abandoned, without evidence, would have seemed like mere evasion.
But with the existence of something even he—a pinnacle of research—couldn't identify at a glance, and a negativity even veteran priests had never seen, it was worth hearing out in detail.
"Fine. We'll hear the full story back at the estate. For now... I'll clean up this mess."
The family's heir had lost sight in one eye, but at least it preserved the family's face in one way.
Compared to the Bolt Marquis House's heir, who had been ambushed by the same assailant, it was hardly grounds to make a huge fuss.
He could continue experiments without one eye, and any daily inconveniences could be handled with a servant.
But for a knight family, losing an arm—especially the dominant one—was enough to jeopardize even an eldest son's succession.
The Bolt Marquis House had long been close with the Church, summoning top priests en masse and succeeding in reattaching the arm.
When blood flowed and color returned to the muscles and skin, everyone cheered.
However, Robert's arm wouldn't so much as twitch a finger no matter how much strength he applied.
As a result, the Bolt Marquis House group gathered there had an atmosphere like a funeral parlor, making even a thick-skinned mage like the Count hesitant to approach.
'Tsk tsk—bragging about his son's innate talent, and now... that's the end for him as a knight. The family will be in turmoil.'
Foreseeing the succession battle and bloodshed in the Bolt Marquis House, the Count averted his gaze.
One headache-inducing matter right in front of him was enough.
"Come to think of it, where's Philip?"
Realizing Philip, whom Isaac had begged to send away, was missing, Count Malroy frowned and asked in a scolding tone.
"...He should be running errands for the things I requested, going around various places."
"That must be related to the experiment you just mentioned, right?"
Isaac nodded confidently, as it wasn't entirely unrelated.
"...Of course."
The stakeholders gathered in a reception room borrowed from the Church.
It was an awkward situation for everyone, sitting face-to-face.
The Bolt Marquis House had a rough idea of the assailant's identity but didn't want to reveal the existence of the 'family register' to outsiders.
Count Malroy didn't want to drag this out before the facts were established.
Dean Doran had a headache; it was something he could dodge if he tried, given the loopholes, but it still ached.
"Isn't that assailant still roaming freely in the Academy?"
As the Bolt Marquis House members pressed aggressively, Doran extended his one good arm to pick up his teacup and responded leisurely.
"We're currently mobilizing all instructors and staff for a search, but the trail cuts off at a training ground a bit away from the incident site. There were unique traces, but investigations found no affected cadets or faculty."
From Doran's perspective, he had no intention of apologizing first. Admitting fault would mean taking the blame and losing out.
The Marquis side could prod at his position as Academy dean and top responsible party to extract an apology, but stirring up a hornet's nest unnecessarily was suicidal.
"Ahem..."
They wanted to press on Academy security, but the label of unauthorized absence and bolting out clung to them.
With the Malroy Count side wanting to quietly pass this for now, they said nothing and merely observed the exchange between the Bolt Marquis House and the dean.
In a room full of Empire heavyweights, the circular, tedious conversation where no one admitted fault dragged on boringly, benefiting no one.
"...What do you think, Count?"
With no conclusion from the talk, the Bolt Marquis House turned to Count Malroy for support.
"What's the point of such gatherings? Debating right and wrong over what's already happened won't heal our children's wounds... I'm worried about my daughter lying alone in her sickbed even now."
"...No."
The unexpected response drew an involuntary "No." from the Marquis.
Not missing the opening, Dean Doran chimed in, agreeing with the Count.
"As expected of the Count's wisdom—it pierces to the core and truth of all matters, beyond mere magical knowledge."
"Hahaha! You're too kind. But to say a word... aren't the roots and stems of knowledge ultimately one and the same?"
"That reminds me of the paper you published last time—"
'This is hopeless.'
As the mages began their mutual praise fest, the Bolt Marquis House realized the matter was settled.
"..."
From their standpoint, with Count Malroy—the one who treated children like objects and should have joined in pressuring the dean—going off on his high horse alone, it was infuriating in its own way.
Ultimately, with the Count siding with the dean, they agreed to process sick leave for Robert and Isaac during treatment without affecting Academy attendance.
The dean left, saying he'd join the instructors in hunting the assailant, and that ended the meeting.
After consuming the ice crystal and regaining consciousness naked, Chloe and Eclair faced each other without the expected awkwardness.
Their bond felt deeper than before, warm and harmonious.
Seeing Chloe's vibrant blue eyes full of life, though the chill was gone, Eclair didn't immediately release the hug.
Unlike before, the desperation had faded into tender affection, and the sisters simply smiled.
"Sister... thank you. Not just now, but always... I can't imagine a life without you."
"...You're saying the same thing."
Chloe reached out first without hesitation, taking Eclair's hand—a leap forward in an instant.
Back in her room, Chloe freshened up and returned to help Eclair tidy up, spending sisterly time together.
With her sister not allowing servants in the bedroom or study, cleaning the large room took longer than expected, but doing it together was enjoyable.
After tidying, they had a simple tea time, chatting idly, when Chloe hesitantly made a request.
"Sister. I have a favor to ask..."
"Hm? Tell me."
"...Could you advance me some pocket money?"
Chloe received pocket money from the family for the Academy, but ultimately, it came from Eclair.
Since her sister had never made such a request before, no matter the reason, Eclair was glad Chloe was leaning on her and asking openly.
"No need to advance pocket money—if you need money for something, just tell me freely."
Knowing her sister wouldn't squander it on frivolities, Eclair smiled softly, awaiting Chloe's response.
Fidgeting with her clasped hands, her face slightly flushed, Chloe whispered in a voice so small it required focus to hear.
"I've received so much like this, so... I want to give even a small token of gratitude to big brother..."