The Count's Dilemma and the Shadow of the Inquisition
Inquisitor Lorenzo, Count Benedict Hartwell, let out a deep sigh as he stared out the window. The landscape of his territory beyond the glass looked peaceful, but his mind felt like it was in the eye of a storm.
“Haa….”
Another sigh escaped him, heavy with exhaustion and torment. Ruling a territory as a noble came with immense responsibilities, as always. But today, that weight pressed down on the count's shoulders harder than ever.
His gaze shifted to the stack of documents on his desk. Among them, one report seized his attention.
Priest Murder Incident Within the Territory
It was a horrific case where a priest had been slain inside the temple on his lands. The problem was that the investigation had uncovered connections between his wife, Lavender, and the murdered priest, giving him a massive headache.
The contact amounted to nothing more than handing over some money, with scant direct involvement. Still, the Holy Empire had more than enough pretext to intervene whenever they pleased.
“Haa, what on earth were you thinking….”
The count shook his head slowly. Giving money to a priest wasn't an issue in itself. Plenty of nobles donated out of faith. Besides, his wife had summoned the priest for Ethan's health, given her long years living as a commoner.
They might dodge the Holy Empire's scrutiny by playing that card. Assuming they bought the story, of course.
But Count Benedict was pessimistic.
Unlikely.
The Holy Empire's investigations were infamous for their ruthlessness. Any whiff of suspicion, and they'd dispatch an inquisitor to tear the territory apart.
“If this drags on, the whole family could be in jeopardy.”
The silver lining was that the count currently held authority over the investigation. For some reason, the Holy Empire had unusually refrained from sending an inquisitor—and even granted him investigative powers.
No choice.
A glint flashed in the count's eyes. With no progress in the case, the Holy Empire could step in at any moment. He planned to carve out his own path before then.
“Edgar!”
“Yes, my lord.”
The head butler, waiting outside the study, responded promptly.
“Send word to His Excellency the Grand Duke. Right now!”
“Understood. I'll prepare immediately.”
As Edgar withdrew swiftly, the count leaned back heavily in his chair. His own power alone wasn't enough anymore. To turn the tide, he needed greater backing.
This was the sorrow of a house without might. Still, the situation wasn't entirely hopeless. He could pin some hope on the sons who would lead the family one day.
All I can trust are my children.
The faces of his sons flickered through the count's mind. His eldest, Albert, showed exceptional talent in magic and was growing into a reliable heir. Studying in the Empire now, he'd elevate House Hartwell when he took over.
If only Bastel took after his brother.
Unfortunately, Bastel's personality was the polar opposite. His business acumen was decent enough, but only with his maternal family's aid. And after the recent ambush, holing up in his room had erased even that advantage.
The count was frankly disappointed in Bastel. A true noble had to weather hardships. He couldn't falter just because of an attack.
“Tch, if he'd inherited even half of Ethan's qualities….”
The count's eyes brightened at the sudden thought of Ethan. The boy had shown astonishing adaptability and insight despite his harsh upbringing. Even his tutors praised him, filling the count with pride—half-blood or not.
With proper nurturing, he'll be a great asset to the family.
A subtle shift came over the count's gaze. He'd initially seen Ethan as mere expendable fodder, but now his mind had changed. Ethan's abilities had swayed him.
Above all, he handles subordinates masterfully.
Having grown up as a commoner, Ethan didn't flaunt noble authority. The count highly valued how he'd even volunteered at the orphanage and brought along kids who followed him.
This wasn't something you could learn. Thanks to it, Ethan was popular among the mansion staff. Even head butler Edgar held him in favor—no further proof needed.
What if Ethan, who understood the hearts of those beneath him so well, assisted the eldest son in leading the house?
A faint smile tugged at his lips. From now on, Ethan was more important to the count than Bastel.
“Heh.”
As if resolved, the count pulled a sheet of paper from his desk.
I must keep my promise and reward him.
He intended to let Ethan learn the magic he'd wanted. Taking up his pen, the count wrote a letter swiftly. It would go to the Magic Tower.
No half-baked tutor or family mage—he wouldn't settle for less. It would cost a fortune, but such investment was only natural.
Even if Ethan lacked magical aptitude, that was fine. He'd draw out the boy's potential some other way.
Busy days continued. The count assigned another tutor—this time, a proper mage to teach magic.
To survive ahead, I needed the power to protect myself, so I threw myself into the lessons.
Fortunately, I could sense mana.
“This is truly astonishing!”
And I sensed it exceptionally well.
“It usually takes weeks to sense mana, but Young Master did it in mere days! I thought your grasp of theory was extraordinary, but….”
Aaron, the mage teaching me, praised me with a shocked expression.
A young mage from the Water Tower, Aaron had reached 2-star rank and was poised to challenge 3-star soon—a solid talent.
Not on Adeline or Bella's level, but not bad.
Talented mages often couldn't relate to the untalented. Whether this body was naturally mana-affine or thanks to my Black Raven leader perks, I couldn't say.
One thing was clear: Aaron taught so accessibly that I kept up easily.
“It's all thanks to Master's guidance.”
I flashed a humble smile and bowed my head. Sincere words. Even sensing mana quickly, her explanations were key to reaching this point.
Aaron waved her hands frantically.
“M-Master? I'm just a tutor teaching magic. And this is purely Young Master's talent!”
Her voice rose in excitement.
“Your control of mana flow is masterful, and you grasp spell principles swiftly. At this rate, you'll master beginner spells in months!”
“You're too kind, Master.”
I kept calling her Master. Mage connections were valuable. She seemed fine with it after a while, clearing her throat awkwardly.
“Ahem, a diligent pupil like you might not be so bad…?”
Magic lessons didn't end the day. Next, Bella visited.
Securing full shares in Golden Wing Merchants had piled on my duties. Officially, Bella was the majority shareholder, but I was the real owner.
Until I found a puppet president, I'd handle operations myself. Only Bella and I knew.
Oh, and Emilia.
Emilia was an outlier. Better to pretend she wasn't there.
Knowing she was a Phantom changed nothing. We both acted normal.
“What're you thinking about so long?”
Bella said coldly. She visited the mansion regularly for merchant ops, but her mood was sour.
“If I knew it'd be like this, couldn't I have been your tutor?”
She grumbled. I just shrugged.
“No way.”
When the count sought a magic tutor, Bella had volunteered. I'd refused.
If you came, my skills would be exposed.
Her intent was obvious from the start.
She wouldn't teach—she'd beg me to show her.
Seeing me as a Phantom, I had to hide my true self. Her realizing I had no power would be trouble.
So I chose Aaron over Bella.
After brief chit-chat, we got to business.
“So, what's up? Today was supposed to be free.”
No schedule originally. Yet Bella rushed over.
“Trouble.”
She lowered her voice, counting on her fingers.
“That serious? Spill it.”
Her grim demeanor screamed crisis.
“You might've heard, but an inquisitor's coming to Hartwell territory soon.”
Made sense—a priest murdered in the territory. Inquisitors wouldn't sit idle; their absence till now was odd.
“And?”
I reacted flatly, so Bella tilted her head.
“That's it?”
She raised an eyebrow, puzzled.
“An heresy inquisitor is coming?!”
A mage freaking out that much meant inquisitors packed real punch.
Feels different from the game vibe.
The count, managing the territory, might worry, but I didn't care if an inquisitor showed.
No link to the priest's death and…
A foreboding thought flashed.
No evidence at the temple murder—like a covert assassination. And hadn't the merchant alliance head died recently too?
Nah, no way… right?
Emilia's face surfaced.
Behind the Holy Empire's grand cathedral, in a shadowed cloister, a man paced anxiously. He was Inquisitor Lorenzo.
Tension filled his eyes. He'd been summoned by an unexpected figure just before departing for Hartwell territory.
“Inquisitor Lorenzo.”
A deep, authoritative voice came from behind.
Lorenzo spun and bowed to the source.
“Yes, Cardinal Raphael.”
Cardinal Raphael—one of the Holy Empire's mere six cardinals. Their word swayed the Pope's throne; he was a heavyweight.
Cold sweat trickled down Lorenzo's back.
“I hear you're heading to Hartwell territory.”
The cardinal's tone carried heavy authority.
“Yes. Investigating the priest-related incident.”
Raphael nodded, stepping closer.
“I called you for a special request about that case.”
Lorenzo's eyes widened.
“W-what do you mean?”
“Sweep it under the rug appropriately.”
Raphael's voice dropped.
“If possible, pin it on a black mage.”
Lorenzo couldn't hide his shock. A cardinal meddling in an investigation….
But rank forbade open protest.
“But, Your Eminence, that….”
“I know.”
Raphael cut him off.
“But if word spreads that a great Holy Empire temple was breached by a mere killer, what then? This case is our shame.”
Lorenzo hesitated, conflict in his eyes.
Noticing, Raphael smiled softly.
“Don't worry. I'll strongly recommend you for promotion. How about senior inquisitor?”
Lorenzo's eyes lit up.
The Holy Empire preached equality under god, but reality favored connections and birth. Without them, advancement stalled.
Lorenzo knew it well—passed over repeatedly.
But a cardinal's backing?
I have to do this!
After a pause, he bowed.
“Understood, Your Eminence. As you command!”
“Good. I trust you. Go.”
As the inquisitor left, silence returned to the cloister. Raphael's soft smile vanished, replaced by icy eyes.
“I've kept my promise.”
He muttered to the darkened ceiling.
“Tell the Eight Elders.”
A faint voice echoed from the shadows.
“Thank you, Third Elder.”
It was Lucy, aide to the Eight Elders. Raphael strode off as if nothing happened, then paused, glancing up again.
“Ah.”
His voice was ice-cold.
“I trust the hound will handle itself.”
Mission complete, the hound became expendable. With those words, Inquisitor Lorenzo's fate was sealed.