Uriel Wayne Daina Alfred
Uriel Wayne Daina Alfred. Recalling how particularly drained she had looked today, I boarded the carriage with Euphemia.
The old monster descended upon the capital...
The cause of her low spirits was undoubtedly the reprimand she had received. The core objective had been eliminating Ciel Midford, but it also served to check the Alfred family, who were entangled with the Claudia household. Viewing it as inter-family conflict wasn't entirely wrong.
In this era...
It was all too common, an everyday occurrence. Yet with Lee Seojin's ego blended in, a faint pang of guilt lingered. Back at the banquet hall, Uriel had even grabbed my arm, pleading for me not to do it.
Of course, that sympathy went only so far.
There were no words I could offer. What good was an apology after the blade had already struck? It would ring hollow, nothing but hypocrisy.
The real issue wasn't Uriel, but the North.
The situation itself... isn't bad.
The current head of the North, Count Aslan, had secured a promise of the Empress's seat. Supporting a specific imperial prince was thus untenable for him. If he backed the First Prince only for the Second to become crown prince? His daughter might still marry into the throne as promised, but he'd face endless scrutiny and lose influence.
So he maintained neutrality, splitting his forces to support both the First and Second Princes.
The faction backing the Second Prince... I can absorb them without much trouble. If not, something would be seriously wrong.
The North yearned to advance into the center. Count Aslan, who would produce an Empress, offered connections, but not as enticing as Ruerg, backed by Brutein.
Come June, after final exams, the Academy would enter a grueling three-month break. I'd head north then to sort out transportation.
Meet the Second Prince and discuss the Robelium Kingdom.
The schedule already felt exhausting, but I'd brought it on myself. I'd bear it silently. I'd braced for severed ties with Brutein, so this price was a bargain.
We're here.
As my thoughts trailed off, the carriage halted before the Magic Research Society.
Having ascended to Apollyon rank, I needed to report it and schedule verification.
"Euphe..."
She must have dozed off during the short ride. No surprise—morning sickness had begun. Typically around the fourth week, but hers hit the moment she realized she was pregnant.
When she dry-heaved right after breakfast, I nearly panicked, suspecting poison. She just whimpered about the smell being too strong. The memory still made me shudder.
"I'll be back soon. If anyone approaches, send them away."
"Yes. Understood."
I gave brief instructions to the coachman and stepped down.
* * * * *
Creeeak.
Using a sliver of lunchtime, Lizzy checked the thesis list at the Magic Research Society and cautiously approached the librarian.
Her eldest brother had married the Alfred family's eldest daughter, granting her fortunate access to a Euclid-rank elemental mage's corpse on loan from the Alfreds.
To bolster her knowledge, she sought an appealing elemental magic thesis.
This world's elemental magic focused on the practical and natural, but as ranks climbed, it shed that realism. Fire, water, ice, lightning—fields of transformation rather than interference—allowed altering fundamental properties. The applications were endless.
Creeeak.
After deliberation, as she wheeled to the counter, a customer was already speaking with the librarian. Lizzy queued behind, but the familiar silhouette gave her pause.
No, more than familiar... the unforgettable voice and signature cologne scent identified him instantly.
"Ah..."
Sensing her gaze, he turned.
Ferzen von Schweig Brutein.
Rumors said he'd been wandering death's door, yet here he stood, unscathed from his sickbed.
Just... die already.
She harbored no qualms about a pathetic death or dying by another's hand—as long as he vanished from the world, the manner mattered not.
He averted his eyes and faced the librarian again.
"I've come to apply for rank verification."
...Verification? Promotion?
"Pardon?"
The librarian mirrored her confusion.
"I said, I've come to apply for rank verification."
"B-But, Lord Count, I recall you were Euclid rank..."
"Luck favored me; I broke through the wall. This exceeds your Keter-rank authority, so arrange a verifier and date."
"Ah, understood. We'll send a letter to your residence once scheduled. And... congratulations! You're the fourth in the Empire to reach Apollyon rank—at just 24 years old."
She avoided "youngest" due to the Empire's witch, Isabel Ron Pierre Genova, who had ascended at 16.
But her talent came at the cost of the Full Moon's Curse, making Ferzen's feat superior. With steady mana growth alongside aging flesh, he might even touch Terminus.
"Verification hasn't occurred yet. Also, mention that with lectures, I can only manage evenings—factor that in."
"Yes. We'll schedule promptly."
Why.
Why does this man never stumble?
Doesn't karma always return?
"Here for a thesis?"
"..."
Business done, Ferzen addressed her.
"Roswell family, eh. If the author is old man Teor, pick the cheapest. The pricier ones are overhyped scams not worth the price."
"Mind your own... business."
Creeeak.
Ignoring his advice, Lizzy wheeled forward, paid, and bought the thesis.
"Forgot about compensating for my Azelia suit? If you're blowing money despite advice, you've already saved enough."
"..."
Every word scraped her nerves raw.
"I haven't forgotten. I remember. So... don't worry. I'll repay that suit you dirtied that day. Even if I have to sell my body."
"Your thinking is excessively extreme."
Ah.
That patronizing tone, like scolding a child.
It disgusted her.
After all...
"Who was it that... drove me to the edge—?!"
"..."
"And you... what right do you have to... to..."
"Uh..."
The sudden outburst flustered the librarian, who glanced at Ferzen. Such scenes were taboo in the Society, and it felt like private business.
"...Hand over a key to an empty room."
Ferzen sighed, extending his hand to the librarian.
"Y-Yes!"
The first floor had only open seats; floors two and three offered private rooms for quiet study of purchased theses.
"G-Give it back!"
Lizzy's necromantic talent granted immunity to control theft once implementation hit a threshold. Thus, Ferzen maintained her wheelchair corpse at max 90% implementation, seized control forcibly, and wheeled her to the second floor.
Click!
"N-No...!"
Unlocking the door with the key, Ferzen shoved her inside, then leaned against the half-open frame.
First, let the setting register as non-trauma-inducing.
"Lizzy."
Seeing her stabilize, Ferzen spoke.
"The Ernes Empire has four Apollyon-rank mages, including me. I'm the only black mage."
"..."
"You know what opening the Netherworld's third layer means."
"..."
"Brutein's wealth allows four to five brokerage attempts yearly without strain. Cumulative tries will eventually yield a successful deal with a grotesque to restore physical defects or injuries, good fortune or ill."
"So...?"
"This is my final offer."
"An offer...?"
"Yes."
At his words, Lizzy's distinctive purple eyes trembled with swirling negativity.
"If you're truly sorry... shouldn't you prove it first? Now... even if these legs heal, my ruined life won't return... You're the perpetrator. Don't play the superior initiating talks. I despise your cruel selfishness..."
"..."
"Do you see our desperation as amusing?"
"I grasp the essence. And as you say, the past is eternally fixed—how to compensate? You wish the same pain on me because you can't."
"..."
"Sorry, but I won't."
"Shameless..."
"Lizzy. The Claudia family can't touch me, no matter their thrashing. While you lingered at Keter, I reached Apollyon. I even diminished the Alfreds this time."
The gap would only widen.
"It won't end in mere pain. Fan the fiercest flames; they'll leave only ash. No... ash would be fortunate. The moment you give pretext, despair beyond the petrified past will crash down."
As Lizzy said, Ferzen was the perpetrator. Even with his OCD as cause, revealing it wouldn't earn forgiveness—it was far past that.
Still, striving to end vengeance with forgiveness might be morally right, but without the Claudia's prior wrongs as backstory, was it feasible?
With luck, perhaps. But Ferzen couldn't idly watch them sharpen their blades.
Yes, call it selfish. It was.
"Excluding mercenaries, average lifespan is eighty."
"..."
"May 24th, 1:23 PM."
Glancing at his watch, Ferzen continued.
"If you're set on discarding the next sixty-two years from this moment, refuse. It'll be irreversible—choose wisely..."
"No need... Whether we can bite your neck... no one knows."
"Very well... Your choice."
"You'll regret it. You'll be useless. Watching your brothers shatter, you might finally cling, weeping."
"As if...!"
"No recourse?"
Ferzen laughed—cruelly, lips curling.
He reached out, shutting the door.
Click.
The lock engaged.
Sealed in the room, alone with Ferzen, Lizzy remained.
"Ha... hngh...!"
Realization struck; breath choked off.
Throat constricted, lungs failing to expand. Body shuddered beyond control.
Then, he approached slowly.
Creeeak! Creeeak!
Desperately wheeling backward, but the corner wall blocked her. And before her... he stood.