White Magic -1-

The Magic Tower was shrouded in darkness. The magical restraints meant for binding lay shattered alongside the magic stones, and the barrier the Tower Lord had meticulously prepared had been rendered powerless and erased by someone's idiotic blunder.

Idiotic blunder, indeed. No one with a brain, no one capable of thought, would have made such a mistake. Traces of that folly littered the floor.

Beneath the flickering lights, the Tower Lord Heinrich, his long white beard cascading down, stood with a grim expression. His kindly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠smile wiped away, he gazed coldly at the corner of the room and spoke in a low voice, as if exhaling icy breath.

"I hope you realize what you've done."

"Realize what? It got smashed to hell."

"You know that's not what I'm asking."

It was a total mess. Lights flickering. Mages set up for guard duty sprawled unconscious. Shattered flasks irritating Heinrich's nerves.

But what enraged him most was the absence of the prisoner who should have been there. An escape from a magic prison accessible only to high-ranking officials—Heinrich let out a hollow laugh. "Heh heh..."

"Incredible. First time in my life I've seen something like this. Got nothing to say."

Heinrich looked down at his disciple, leaning against the wall, breathing raggedly. Blood smeared across his face, his body marked with traces of fierce combat, the disciple hung his head.

Not from guilt, but from the sting of defeat. The pathetic sight fueled Heinrich's deep anger, the humiliation burning in his disciple's eyes.

"Ruin."

Ruin cut him off, muttering irritably. "Old man. If Hans... that fucker hadn't blabbed, I could've won. He spilled about the ranking matches..."

"Why compare me to that whiny bitch who only knows how to cry 'miss'?"

Ruin clenched his fist. "Next time, I'll win. Right, old man?"

Heinrich sighed deeply at his disciple's refusal to reflect.

"You don't grasp the gravity of this."

It was magic that wouldn't have been breached without such foolishness. His barrier could withstand even an imperial Sword Master. Like an impregnable fortress wall.

Strong on the outside. But weak within. That wall had crumbled effortlessly due to an internal traitor. Heinrich's anguish was beyond words.

It was his own poor judgment that led to this.

I'd judged that Ruin, who would one day succeed me and lead the Tower, could think coldly and rationally. Had my expectations been too high?

Realizing now that the disciple he'd raised as heir only saw what was right in front of him, Heinrich spoke bitterly.

"Thirty."

"What's with thirty."

"The number Hans killed. Maybe more."

"So what do you want me to do."

"I'm saying it could rise higher because of your foolish judgment, Ruin."

"Ah, come on...!"

Ruin dug at his ear with a finger, as if sick of the nagging, and shot back at Heinrich.

"I didn't let him out, okay? I was gonna ask why he did it, and that fucker backstabbed me."

"You're deluding yourself comfortably, Ruin."

Heinrich faced him differently now, shedding the warmth he'd always shown. No longer the kindly mentor, nor the father figure to the orphan, nor the friendly companion. With solemn gravity, he demanded.

"You've unleashed a devil. One that lives by devouring human souls."

Ruin replied to the lecture with a hollow smile. "Old man... doesn't that seem off? Hans, that Hans."

"..."

"Hans, who couldn't kill a bug, killing people? He must've been blackmailed or something he couldn't talk about."

"The results prove otherwise."

"Don't be so extreme."

Ruin shook dust from his hair roughly. Nothing major—just recapture him. Hans wasn't the type. This time Hans got lucky, but next fight, he'd win for sure. He hauled his weary body upright.

"Anyway, you brought Hans here to protect him, right old man?"

"..."

"To find the real culprit, yeah?"

True enough. Heinrich had pinned faint hope on Hans. That's why he'd asked that redhead a reckless favor, even incurring debt.

But not anymore. Hans had slipped from his grasp.

Heinrich no longer considered him a disciple. And Ruin felt no guilt for his actions. No sincerity in his whining for validation of his delusions.

Ruin snapped irritably at Heinrich, as if unable to comprehend. "Why worry so much? I don't get it."

"I don't get you either."

"No... I said Hans didn't kill... Old man, you can't trust your disciple? Think about it, fuck, anyone can see that guy wouldn't..."

Crack...! Heinrich's fist slammed into Ruin's cheek. Frail for an untrained mage's punch, but laden with their bond and years, it weighed heavier on Ruin's heart than any other.

Ruin stood frozen, head turned. He knew why he'd been hit, seething with anger at a master who wouldn't trust his disciple, lingering there motionless.

Heinrich eyed Ruin, who wouldn't meet his gaze. "Ruin."

"..."

"Shut your mouth."

"..."

"You called me a fool of a master who can't trust his disciple?"

Heinrich swallowed rising fury from deep in his dantian. "I've seen many disciples..."

Memories flashed: his private talk with Hans. The disciple shackled in mana restraints, head bowed. Shoulders slumped like a son he'd raised.

He'd already left as a disciple. I'd raised many. Seen mages abandon the path. Even sent off one like Hans who'd dabbled in black magic. That's why I reached the painful truth. He was no longer the disciple I knew.

"Raised fine ones, sent off those ruled by desire like Hans."

All his responsibility. Born of the master's neglect. He wanted to end it himself—with the imperial army or his own magic.

But he lacked confidence to see Hans's end now that he'd slipped away. If that redhead crossed Hans again, he'd kill without hesitation.

Heinrich left the frozen Ruin in the cell and turned. "Stay confined for a while."

The best mercy he could offer. He needed to catch Hans quickly, he thought.

*

"Ricardo, your smile looks sleazy."

The young lady, spoon in mouth, remarked as I suddenly burst out laughing.

"Why the laugh?"

"You look insane."

"That hurts a bit."

"Yeah? Then, um... like you've lost your mind."

"That hurts more."

"Hmm..."

The young lady set her spoon on the table, pondering a kinder insult, brow furrowed in thought. No good alternatives coming to mind.

I smiled at her, lost in pleasant thoughts. How much can I squeeze from the Tower Lord?

Obvious, really. Why Hans escaped the Tower Lord's clutches. No way a grand mage lets mana-drained Hans slip away.

Suspects who could abuse the Lord's authority? Fingers could count them—deputy lord or high mages wouldn't.

Conclusion: Ruin. Most likely his doing.

So. Pin the blame on Ruin, yeah?

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠planned to steal one of Ruin's spells. The reason he became the strongest in the novel's latter half.

White Magic.