Chapter 97
Chapter 97
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 97
Chapter Title: Return to the Villa
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There was no longer any reason to stay with the guard unit.
“Would you like another cup of tea…?”
Nil wanted to spend more time with Damian, but Damian saw no reason to linger.
Parujan and Saliba gathered their belongings and followed after him.
“How about this?”
Parujan lifted her cloak. It appeared utterly ordinary at a glance, but nothing could be further from the truth when it came to its lethality.
A subspace cloak. For someone like Parujan, who wielded a wide array of weapons, it was the perfect magic tool.
“Dudek gave it to me as a gift.”
Its value far surpassed that of any ordinary subspace pouch.
No more were being made.
The mage who crafted it had passed away ages ago, leaving no apprentices or students behind—the secret to its creation was buried with him.
“Ah, hold on. I’ll put on a hat too…”
Saliba covered her head with a wide-brimmed bonnet. They’d gotten by without one in Byzantine, but this was the imperial capital. Better to cover up.
Not for any other reason, but because she was traveling with Damian.
He was of imperial blood. A lineage so exalted that she never would have dreamed of even speaking to him before.
“No need for that.”
“Eh? Even so…”
“It’s fine. You’re my guest. Anyone who has a problem with your hair color might as well be picking a fight with me.”
Saliba’s nose tingled.
Tears pricked at her eyes, so she turned her gaze away.
Damian was the first person in her life to ever say something like that to her.
“Isn’t that Damian? And those three people behind him?”
“One’s Agnes Schubert. The other two—no way, the ones from yesterday?”
“The rumors were true. A traitor’s descendant showed up from the south.”
“Why would Damian hang around trash like that…”
It was a combination impossible not to draw stares. Still, no one openly confronted them.
The scene said it all about Damian’s current standing.
The world had no choice but to watch his every move with rapt attention—and bated breath.
“But, but… Brother Damian—no, Sir Damian.”
Saliba scurried after him, panting.
She’d shot up quite a bit since he’d last seen her. Kids her age grew like weeds.
“You said you were at the Magic Tower, right?”
“That’s right.”
“So… among the Magic Tower guardians, there really was someone with sky-blue hair like mine?”
“Yeah. His name’s Dennis the Duke. I’ll introduce you if the chance comes up.”
Saliba’s eyes sparkled.
In his previous life, she’d never have suspected Dennis wanted her dead.
‘But who should I entrust her to?’
Saliba’s talent was real enough, but she wasn’t ready for the front lines just yet. She needed proper, structured training.
Damian didn’t have deep connections with many mages at the tower. The ones he did, though, were a dazzling bunch.
First up: the eccentric Ezekiel. Damian’s own teacher, priest to the current tower lord, and a member of the tower council to boot.
He’d given Damian some genuinely useful guidance, no doubt.
But what Saliba needed was someone to show her the straight and narrow. Ezekiel was a questionable fit there.
Next: guardian Dennis. Top-tier skill at the tower, no question.
He harbored deep resentment toward her kind, but he wouldn’t turn down a personal request from Damian.
That said, his duties as a guardian came first—hard to say if he could devote enough time to her.
‘Raw power and teaching ability aren’t the same thing.’
Dillon was off the table too. Decent talent, but he and Saliba wouldn’t mesh.
Which left…
‘Ariella Sago?’
Her credentials as an instructor spoke for themselves. And she’d already taken on a disciple who was a traitor’s descendant.
‘I’ll send a letter, at least.’
Letters to both Ezekiel and Ariella might yield a solid recommendation.
Ezekiel might not care much, but Ariella would be thrilled to hear from Damian.
“Anyway, you two—how’d you end up kicking up such a fuss? You had my handkerchief.”
Once they were in the carriage, Damian turned to Parujan and Saliba.
““……””
Both looked away.
“Tell me what happened. I’m not angry.”
Truth be told, they wouldn’t have tangled with the guards if they’d just shown the handkerchief.
As it was, that handkerchief was long gone in one piece.
“This brat jumped to conclusions first!”
“S-so I apologized! Who was the one ignoring every word out of my mouth!”
It all started with coincidence and misunderstanding piled together.
For one, Parujan and Saliba arriving in the capital on the same day.
Then there was Saliba losing Damian’s handkerchief.
She’d been gripping it tight to flash at the guards the moment they arrived, but she’d lost it amid the press of the crowd.
While she was searching desperately, she spotted Parujan—a woman waving around a handkerchief just like hers.
Common sense said Parujan couldn’t be the thief. The timing didn’t line up, and what kind of idiot thief flaunts what they stole?
But Saliba was still just a kid. First time using a warp gate. First time leaving the south.
And she’d lost her most precious possession.
The handkerchief from Damian—the one that could change her entire life.
So she made a mistake she’d never have made otherwise.
“She came charging at me out of nowhere, trying to snatch the handkerchief you gave me. So I taught her a lesson.”
“That lady wouldn’t listen when I said I was sorry—it was a misunderstanding!”
The trouble really started when, in the growing scuffle, Parujan’s handkerchief vanished too.
The guards showed up, hauled them both away, and when they claimed ties to Damian, no one bought it.
“You. Half-baked little mage brat. Want round two?”
“A-again with the ‘little brat’? Do you have any idea how famous I am in Byzantine?”
The carriage lurched hard.
““Stop it.””
Luckily, Damian pinned Saliba’s head down while Agnes restrained Parujan, keeping things from boiling over.
“It’s all my fault. My fault. That settle it?”
“T-that’s not what I…”
“I-I’m sorry. Brother. But I… I really am sorry. I lost that handkerchief.”
Damian apologizing instead had them both shrinking back. Neither wanted to look bad in front of him.
“Sorry, little—no, Saliba. I misunderstood.”
“I’m the one who’s sorrier… Sister Parujan.”
Damian and Agnes exchanged wry chuckles at the sight.
“What’s so funny?”
“D-don’t laugh.”
Parujan cocked her head, while Saliba turned away, red-faced.
“Sounds like quite a lot went down in the south, Sir Damian.”
She’d have to fill Agnes in on what happened there. The Hashashin weren’t unrelated to her.
“Mind if I tell her?”
Damian checked with Parujan first. Her origins and curse were deeply personal.
“Agnes is fine to hear it…”
“U, uwaaaah!”
Parujan pinned Saliba down and sniffed her.
Damian’s acquaintance earned a baseline of trust, but Parujan had her own way of double-checking.
“This kid’s fine too.”
“N-not a kid, I said!”
“Got it, Saliba.”
The carriage was thoroughly soundproofed. The coachman couldn’t hear a thing inside.
The tale began in Byzantine.
Meeting Saliba, ousting Imur, crossing paths with Parujan, battling the Old Man of the Mountain.
Naturally, he didn’t spill every detail—just enough to build common ground.
“To think all that happened down south…”
Agnes couldn’t hide her shock.
Her wounds from the Hashashin had healed, but the scars on her heart lingered.
Damian had clashed with their leader as an equal. It dwarfed anything like cleaning up Byzantine’s underworld.
“Wow! Wow! Wow!”
Saliba squirmed with excitement. To her, Damian’s exploits were pure hero legend.
“…”
Parujan, for her part, stayed composed. Simply lost in quiet recollection.
“Parujan…”
Agnes laid her hand over Parujan’s.
She could see the pain lurking behind that bitter expression.
“I’ll share my story too.”
Agnes wasn’t one for comforting words.
And venting her own feelings over a secondhand account wouldn’t do Parujan any good.
So she shared her own tale.
First meeting or not, Parujan and Saliba were fine to hear it—thanks to Damian, no doubt.
Her father’s death, her betrothal to Damian, the sordid intrigue, and the shift that followed.
There was still ample time before reaching the villa.
More than enough for the three Damian had brought together to swap their stories.
* * *
“““Welcome to the villa.”””
Led by Anna and Felix, the villa’s servants greeted Damian’s guests.
Desert nomad or traitor’s spawn—it didn’t matter. A guest of Damian’s deserved the red-carpet treatment.
That was the bedrock of trust between the villa and Damian.
“We’ve come to escort Lady Agnes.”
Another carriage waited in front of the villa. House Schubert’s.
“Sir Damian.”
Agnes stepped up to him. She’d decided to make a quick trip home.
To look into family head Ballack, specifically.
The traitorous black sheep Ramsey belonged to the Inquisitors, who dabbled with demons.
Ballack likely had ties too. Investigating him could yield intel on the Inquisitors.
“Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“Hey, Agnes, where you off to? I wanna hang out more.”
“Just a quick stop at the main house. I’ll be back before you know it, so hang tight.”
Parujan stuck out her lower lip and tugged at Agnes’s hem.
Less than a day since they’d met, and she already treated Agnes like an old pal.
‘Never had friends her own age?’
Come to think of it, there were no tribe girls her age.
Bad timing, probably. Inevitable, given Parujan’s outsider roots.
Before the curse lifted, her headspace had been badly warped too. She’d mouth off to Chief Dudek on the regular.
“I like Agnes. She smells nice.”
“Me too. So take good care of Sir Damian while I’m gone.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Agnes had taken to Parujan just as quickly. She lacked peers her age too.
Skill aside, emotional growth was key—and there were limits to what Damian, wrong gender and all, could provide.
Agnes and Parujan. Liking each other already, building trust would be a breeze.
And with that, Agnes departed the villa. Parujan kept waving until the Schubert carriage was out of sight.
“Alright, you and me—we’ve got work to do.”
“Work?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know. You’ve felt it ever since we hit the palace.”
Parujan’s eyes sharpened at his words.
Gone was the half-socialized girl from moments ago. In her place stood a hunter.
“What’re you talking about, Brother Damian—no, Sir Damian?”
“Something that’ll help you out.”
Saliba tilted her head, clueless. Damian just grinned.
Even with a top teacher, unlocking true potential usually took years.
Damian had no intention of waiting that long.
‘A normal pace won’t cut it for me.’
She needed explosive growth. And today, he’d secure the key to it.