Chapter 129: The Past
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 129: The Past
"Hmm? Are you... inviting me?"
Faced with the girl's question, Muen’s gaze instantly sharpened.
That bashful expression.
That hesitant, stuttering speech.
Could it be...
But that didn't make sense. He had only met Shali twice, hadn't he?
"M-Muen... don't get the wrong idea! It’s... it’s actually just my father... Yes, my father! He asked me to invite you to our home as a guest."
Muen’s intense gaze made Shali’s face turn even redder, as if it were catching fire. She explained hurriedly:
"I wrote to my father before and told him about everything that happened. He wrote back recently and gave me a real earful. He said, how could I just brush you off with a few cakes?
"So, he asked me to invite you over. He’s a well-known chef in our area, and he wants to cook a grand feast for you to show his apologies."
"I see..."
Muen understood now. It wasn't Shali; it was her father.
That made sense. After all, the more life experience one had, the more they tended to care about things like social status and networking.
He was likely afraid that his daughter had slighted the son of a Duke.
"I appreciate the sentiment from both you and your father, but I’m sorry—I already have plans for the Open Day," Muen said apologetically.
"But... the Open Day lasts for three days."
"I’m not sure if I can squeeze in the time. It would be even worse if I accidentally stood you and your father up, wouldn't it?"
"Is... is that so?"
Shali’s disappointment was visible to the naked eye.
"I suppose it can't be helped. Someone like you, Muen, is bound to be very busy during the Open Day."
Why does she make it sound like I’m some scumbag juggling multiple dates at once?
Muen’s lip twitched slightly as he continued to comfort her.
"I’m sorry, Shali. I don't mean to let your kindness go to waste, but you really don't need to go to such trouble. Didn't I say it before? I never took that little misunderstanding to heart. You can go back and tell your father exactly that. Tell him he has nothing to worry about."
"That’s not the reason at all..." Shali murmured under her breath.
"Hmm? What was that?"
"N-nothing."
Shali shook her head frantically, then suddenly shoved a piece of paper—which seemed to have been written well in advance—into Muen’s hand.
"In that case, please just visit whenever you have the time!"
"Eh? Wait."
"I’ll be waiting all three days!"
Before Muen could react, Shali turned and bolted as if she were escaping a crime scene.
...
"Lower District, 15 Durank Street."
Standing where he was, Muen looked at the address on the note and gave a wry smile.
"Now... this is a bit awkward."
"Quite the youthful display, Muen Campbell."
A stern, archaic voice suddenly rang out.
An old man dressed in formal attire, gripping a silver cane, stood not far away. He watched Muen quietly, looking like a silent, ancient pine tree.
"Professor Prang? What are you doing here?" Muen jumped, startled. He reflexively stuffed the note into his pocket and asked, "Are you also here at the hospital for a check-up? What a coincidence."
Professor Prang didn't answer. He simply turned around and said:
"Follow me."
"Eh? You need me for something?"
Muen was bewildered and wanted to ask more, but Professor Prang had already started walking away. Left with no choice, Muen broke into a light jog to catch up.
...
The Great Clock Tower.
Underground.
The Silver Well.
With a soft beep, the mana-driven elevator doors slid open, revealing an unfamiliar underground world to Muen.
Beneath his feet, a floor forged of metal stretched to the horizon, its mirror-like surface reflecting clear images. Pipes glowing with faint blue or red light were coiled in the corners like giant pythons, weaving together before plunging into the dark depths.
In the shadows on either side, gargantuan, precision-engineered mechanical constructs stood like giants flanking the path. The moment Muen stepped onto the floor, he felt two terrifying gazes sweep over him.
Under the immense pressure, Muen’s breath hitched, feeling as though he were submerged in the deep sea.
"Don't be afraid."
Professor Prang reached out and patted his shoulder.
"Those are the Gatekeepers of the Mercury Well. As long as you have authorization, there is no danger."
The pressure vanished instantly. As Muen took a deep breath, his mouth moved faster than his brain:
"And if I didn't have authorization?"
"If you didn't?"
Prang’s tone rose for a moment, bordering on a sneer.
"The first thing any enemy wishing to invade the Mercury Well must do is evade the eyes of the Gatekeepers. If they can't... well, those who couldn't are already dead."
His gaze flicked toward the floor near the elevator. There was a large, dark red stain there, looking like dried blood.
Decades had passed, yet that patch of ground—where many powerful experts had been ground into meat paste—still couldn't be scrubbed clean.
A chill ran down Muen’s spine at Prang’s words. He pulled his neck in, cast a quick glance at the steel giants, and hurried to keep pace with the professor.
Their footsteps rang out crisply, echoing through the vast, silent corridor like countless people tapping out a rhythm in the dark. It was eerie.
Muen rubbed his arms, wanting to start a conversation to dispel the chill in his heart, but since he was facing the stiff and serious Professor Prang, he didn't know what to say.
"Your father was also a student of mine," Professor Prang suddenly initiated.
"Eh?"
Muen was stunned for a moment before quickly recovering. "Father also attended Saint Maria Academy?"
"Since the Academy’s founding, every generation of Campbell heirs has studied here."
Professor Prang paused, then added, "After all, the Campbell family was one of the Academy’s founders. To this day, they remain one of the major shareholders, holding the power to decide certain major affairs of the school."
"I had no idea the Campbells were shareholders," Muen marveled.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Prang said coldly.
"According to the original pact, only the Duke of Campbell himself can interfere in Academy affairs. Therefore, whether it was your father back then or you now, you entered this Academy as nothing more than a student. You have no right to boss the Academy around."
"I never had any such intention."
Muen scratched his head with an innocent expression.
Aside from the high probability of being slapped into a wall by Professor Prang, there seemed to be no benefit to bossing the Academy around.
He wasn't the type of reckless noble scion who would use his privileges to fill a swimming pool with champagne or use a ball as an excuse to peek at the smooth thighs beneath girls' white dresses.
He preferred black stockings anyway.
"So, what was my father like when he was a student here?" Muen asked.
"Your father..."
Professor Prang trailed off, seemingly lost in a distant memory.
When he spoke again, his voice carried a hint of nostalgia.
"Back then, Lorne Campbell was exactly what his title suggests today."
"His title?" Muen thought for a moment. "The Lion King?"
"Exactly. The Lion King. The leader of the pride."
A sharp glint flashed in Prang’s aged eyes.
"From the moment he entered the Academy, he was like a lion king standing above all beasts—radiant and utterly dazzling. Humility, courage, studiousness, devotion... the qualities a noble should possess shone on his chest like medals. Many students were won over by his character and followed him out of genuine respect. He was always moving forward, surrounded by a crowd.
"The things he accumulated during his student days became the vital foundation that allowed him to shoulder the Campbell mantle so quickly during that Great Turmoil—the incident where your grandfather unfortunately passed away. He was a man who, at first sight, would make anyone marvel that he truly lived up to the Campbell name.
"And that is why..."
Professor Prang turned to look at Muen, his expression complex.
"When I first saw you at the Academy a year ago, I was so deeply disappointed."