Chapter 109

Joseph had been reading the traces left behind when a spark flashed before his eyes and a stabbing pain tore through him. He doubled over, clutching his chest as coughs racked his body.

"Lord Joseph!"

Joseph waved off the rushing footsteps—a gesture meant to say he was fine—but the coughing didn't subside for a long while.

When it finally stopped, Joseph steadied his trembling shoulders with visible effort. He drew a slow breath and gripped his staff.

FLASH.

Joseph's silver mana surged in an instant, devouring every last trace of dark violet residue. The ravaged scene was swept clean in a single moment, leaving only the ancient instruments resting in silent stillness.

In the hush that followed, silver script began to materialize before the eyes of everyone present—everyone except Joseph himself.

[…Hear me, all of you.]

Joseph listened to the synchronized snap of boots falling into formation behind him, then straightened from his kneeling position and turned to face them.

[Effective immediately, the frontline defensive wards will be fully reconstructed and reinforced.]

Sion, standing off to one side, let concern flicker across his face—but he buried it beneath a businesslike expression just as quickly and bowed his head.

Joseph continued.

[Shift all formations to full defensive posture and prepare for enemy assault. Deploy the elites with enough flexibility to respond to any contingency. These orders take effect now.]

A chorus of acknowledgment erupted from the adjutants as one. Joseph walked forward through the line of figures standing at attention.

His footsteps toward the snowfield rang clear and unwavering—without the faintest trace of unsteadiness.

---

Hmm.

Lloyd strolled out through the entrance hall of the headquarters.

This crossroads—shared by VIPs staying in the various buildings—was where observers actively traded assessments and reputations of the people who'd caught their eye.

Well then. Might as well eavesdrop on something interesting before the evening reception.

Lloyd accepted a drink from a passing attendant's tray and sipped at it with studied indifference, lending an ear to the conversations drifting along the hall's edges.

"Any decent talent floating around? We need someone to manage our caravan's security detail."

"Caravan security? You could just commission a mercenary company for that. Why bother looking here?"

"Come on… if the price is the same, you shop for quality. This is a chance to snag someone before the competition drives up their value."

Idle talk from people who didn't know the first thing about what was really at stake. Lloyd let a flat hum serve as commentary and slid his gaze sideways.

His eyes landed on a lone figure standing in the corner of the hall. Unlike the others—consumed with conversations serving their own interests—this one showed no inclination to participate.

Someone from the great nobility's camp. Playing the wallflower while keeping those ears very much open.

Lloyd smirked, set his empty cup on a collection tray, and moved toward the center of the hall. A different topic reached him almost immediately.

"The current Northern heir versus the former Northern heir—how do you think this standoff plays out? Aren't you curious who'll be riding the wave of public opinion by the time the campaign's over?"

Now that was a debate worth hearing. Lloyd tugged the corner of his mouth into a grin, sidled up to the crowd, and positioned himself with his back to them.

In a single glance, the profiles of every face he'd scanned unspooled through his mind. A guild personnel manager. A newspaper editor-in-chief. A celebrated playwright. An administrator from a scholarly city, and several landowners with sizable estates and production operations under their belts.

"We should judge on hard facts alone. Combat record, achievements, reputation… based on everything to date, it's an overwhelming win for Verte Fischer."

"Oh, come on—where's the fun in that? Whatever happens, it's always more exciting when the underdog rises up."

"I don't know—there's a good narrative in the dispossessed heir reclaiming his rightful place too, isn't there? I rather like that angle."

"Ha ha, you people. Occupational hazard. Every last one of you."

The administrator's easy laugh reined in the straying conversation before another voice picked it up.

"Ahem—just between us, but shouldn't the Senit heir have proven he had the strength to defend his territory a long time ago? It's not as though a guardian's duty is something you can take lightly."

"Exactly. Take the Leventia eldest over there—when he was barely fifteen, the whole kingdom was buzzing about him taking down a notorious saber-toothed tiger on the southwestern plains. Meanwhile this one has… well, nothing?"

"Honestly, there must be something embarrassing they've been keeping quiet about. The father was a once-in-a-generation genius, but the son turned out to be a dud—something like that. …Oh, speaking of which—the late lady of the North. They say nobody even knew her real background? There were some strange rumors about her too."

"Is that so? Well, I wouldn't know the details of their family affairs… Anyway! Keep your eyes open, everyone. Let's see whether the Northern heir gets carried by his teammates or pulls his own weight. He could easily coast on Salvator's results and claim a share of credit he didn't earn."

"Ha! If that happens, he might as well hand the title over to Fischer."

The topic had started as a question about the matchup between Mikhail and Verte and the odds each way—but with every exchange, opinion was hardening in a single direction.

At this rate, there was no debate to be had at all.

Lloyd flicked a quiet scoff and drifted away from where he'd been standing.

"……"

He walked at an unhurried pace through the peripheral corridor and into the lobby. No one else was around. Lloyd stopped and turned his head back the way he'd come.

Beneath the clamor of voices, the passageway stretching toward the outer grounds extended outward like a bridge to nowhere.

…Mikhail, you've ended up in a pretty lonely spot.

Lloyd let out a soft laugh.

By the time this campaign's over, how many of those people will you have turned to your side?

"Maxwell—no, Mikhail! You're here representing your school for the campaign? That's incredible! You're so cool!"

Mikhail walked with Colin along the path leading to the dormitory wing. Colin's face was flushed, his eyes sparkling.

"You know what? This is the first time I've actually been glad I came here. Now I've got someone to root for! I still remember it—when that enormous monster appeared out of nowhere, and you just went like this and took it down in one—!"

Colin thrust his arm straight out in front of him. Mikhail stopped walking and spoke.

"Colin. What happened in the cavern stays between us."

"Huh? What?"

"It was a long time ago, and there were barely any witnesses. Even if you told people, nobody would believe you. And besides…"

Mikhail raised a finger to his lips and flashed a mischievous grin.

"It's no fun if everyone knows what I can do ahead of time."

Colin stared at him blankly, then broke into a giggling fit and answered.

"Got it! I won't tell a soul. Not even my father!"

"Good."

Mikhail resumed walking and asked.

"How are things with your new family?"

"Great. The elder—I mean, my father—he's a really wonderful person. He treats me like his own son and even gave me a new surname—Mabel. And whenever I get praised for my writing or public speaking, he gets so excited. He keeps saying our household's going to produce a great author someday."

Just as expected—doing well and in good hands. Mikhail smiled and nodded.

Colin let out a breath laced with laughter. Then something seemed to occur to him, and he ventured on.

"Oh, that reminds me. I wonder how Ethan's been doing? When we got back to the village and said goodbye, he gave me all sorts of things and even left me his contact information… but I lost the note when I moved in a rush, so I haven't been able to reach him."

Mikhail tilted his head toward Colin.

"Really? Want to go say hi?"

"Whaaat?"

"He's here too. Same school."

Colin gaped like he'd been blindsided.

"W-wait. You two go to the same school, and on top of that you knew each other? Then why did you act like total strangers back then…?"

Mikhail scratched his cheek and let out a hollow sigh.

"We were sworn enemies at the time. Nothing less."

"Sworn… enemies?"

"Well, it's not as bad as it used to be. But if you're asking whether things are good—that's a different story."

Colin drew out a long, puzzled hum, then shook his head and said:

"Either way, if you two can talk openly now, then I want to go say hi! I'm sure Ethan would be happy to see I'm doing well!"

Mikhail weighed Ethan's state of mind for a moment.

Then he tilted his head back toward the cloudless blue sky and answered.

"Yeah. You're right. He'll be really glad."

---

"Whoa, these rooms are amazing! This is practically noble-house level luxury—seriously, this place is insane!"

Ethan watched Dian sprawled spread-eagle across the bed, cracked a small smile, and headed outside.

The moment he stepped out, a group in the distance spotted him and started waving. Ethan waved back, then made his way to a nearby bench and sat down.

A cool breeze was blowing and birds were singing. The scene before him could have been painted—perfectly, impossibly peaceful.

"……"

Ethan let out a breath and closed his eyes. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat began to fill his ears.

How long had it been since he'd last felt this kind of calm?

The fear of being wounded no longer consumed his thoughts the way it once had. The constant edge—the need to stay braced and on guard—had faded.

And the only people left around him were ones he felt he could trust.

If things could just stay like this… peaceful, the way they are now. I wouldn't ask for anything more.

Ethan opened his eyes and looked down at his fully healed shoulder.

A wound that no longer ached—in any sense of the word.

And alongside it, the image of someone he no longer clashed with the way he used to. Ethan sat in silence for a moment, then tilted his head back. The vivid blue sky filled his upturned gaze.

Maybe that's why. Lately I keep catching myself hoping. If even things with Mikhail have settled down this much… then maybe, way down the line, I could tell my friends the truth and still be okay. That kind of hope just keeps creeping in.

Ethan blinked slowly, then let out a breath and murmured.

"Never thought I'd be thinking something like that. I guess that's why they say the world keeps turning. Right, Master…?"

"Yeah. Sure does."

A familiar voice came from a place he hadn't expected. Ethan nearly jumped out of his skin and whipped his head around.

Mikhail was leaning against the back of the bench, staring straight at him.

"What's with the shock?"

"……"

Ethan twitched his brow, dragged a hand down his face, and said:

"…Nothing. Forget it."

Mikhail didn't press. He moved on to what he'd come to say.

"You free? There's someone who wants to say hello."

"To me?"

Ethan glanced around in every direction.

"That can't be right. I don't know anyone here."

Mikhail said nothing in reply—just shrugged with an air of deliberate mystery.

Ethan's eyes had barely narrowed in suspicion when a small head popped up from behind the bench, right on cue.

"Ethan! It's been forever! It's me—Colin! From the cavern—you remember, right?"

Ethan's gaze locked onto Colin's face.

Surprise spread slowly across those ash-gray eyes—and then a voice brimming with warmth burst free.

"—Colin? Colin? You've got to be kidding me! How long has it been?"