Chapter 177

"Grrr…."

While Han tugged at the cuff of his trousers, Ul darted out the window in a flash.

"?"

Mikhail watched the two of them act with no clear purpose and tilted his head.

As his eyes followed the back of Ul's head, the scene from yesterday came back to him out of nowhere.

The way the two of them had been bouncing and fussing the moment he set foot in the room.

[Yip! Yip yip!]

…It seemed Han and Ul had something they wanted to tell him.

Tap.

It wasn't long before Ul came back into the room. His puffed-up fur and tail looked the same as always, but he had something in his mouth. Ul came in carrying a single flower—pink petals with purple stamens—stood at Mikhail's feet, and wagged his tail.

Thud….

The moment Mikhail took the flower Ul had offered.

Han padded over to the door and started bumping her head lightly against the smooth surface.

Meanwhile, Ul kept poking at the flower with his front paws.

"……"

Mikhail closed his right hand into a fist. What was it that Han and Ul had been trying to tell him for two days running?

Knowing their personalities, this wasn't some idle prank. It had to be something more serious than that….

"Ah."

Mikhail looked back and forth between the pair and the flower in his hand, then let out a small sound of recognition.

The colors of the flower he was looking at matched the colors of someone who'd been at the center of conversation just moments ago.

Pink hair, purple eyes. Mikhail narrowed his eyes and asked Han and Ul.

"Did Julien come by here?"

"Yip!"

The pair cried out as if they'd been waiting for the question. Mikhail blinked, called up what Lloyd had told him, and asked.

"How was he?"

"Whuff…."

Han and Ul let their ears and shoulders droop and swayed their tails low, looking glum. Mikhail took in what they were showing him and smiled faintly.

"I see. Thanks for telling me."

Only then did the pair light up, satisfied, and climb up onto his shoulders. Mikhail went back to the desk and opened the envelope Lloyd had passed him.

It had come from the Delporn Mountains—the people he'd asked to look in on Julien's condition right after the free mission period ended.

Rustle.

The letter paper carried a faint scent of medicinal herbs. Mikhail read down through the lines on the page.

[To Young Master Mikhail Senit.]

The letter opened by addressing him by name, set a few words of greeting at the top, and went straight into the matter at hand.

[…I attempted to undo the formula applied to Lord Julien as you instructed, but to my shame, it was beyond me.]

Mikhail nodded slightly at the candid line. That the formula couldn't be undone was something he'd expected.

Leventia was one of the foremost great mage houses. It would be stranger if a formula from such a house could be cracked easily.

[The Leventia formula's structure is unique and intricate, which made it difficult to find any external opening. The mana binding at the formula's core was also extraordinarily tight.]

[…But even so, Lord Julien's own will to protect something has been suppressing the formula's effects and opening gaps in its solid structure.]

[All I, in my limited skill, could do was preserve the gaps Lord Julien had created, and use medication to dampen the force being brought to bear.]

Limited skill, nothing. Reading the formula and fully suppressing its effects is impressive work in itself.

Mikhail let out a short breath between his lips and turned to the next page.

[The key to undoing it lies in Lord Julien continuing to widen the cracks himself, in the same way he already is.]

[His will to sever his connection to the binding formula must grow stronger, more deliberate than it is now. If that resolve reaches its peak, the formula can be broken.]

The will to sever his connection to the formula.

That meant Julien would have to give up the bond he held toward Leventia as family.

He could only be fully free after he let go of the desire to be one of them….

[…I am sending Lord Julien a steady supply of medication to suppress the formula's effects. Separately, however—]

Rustle.

Mikhail read down to that line and gave the envelope a shake. What fell out was an ampoule and a syringe.

Mikhail drew his eyes from the items in his palm and put them back on the letter.

[Since the Leventia formula has not been fully undone, there's no telling what kind of sudden situation may arise. I am therefore sending a sedative to you as well, young master. It temporarily blocks mana circulation, so if anything unexpected should happen….]

She means for me to use it.

Mikhail read to the end and folded the paper closed. Quiet settled over the room like a curtain coming down.

Julien. You….

Mikhail shut his eyes. The information Lloyd and the pair had brought him. And the pattern of how Cassien moved.

Putting it all together, he could roughly picture what had happened to Julien.

Cassien would have started moving below the surface. He'd be working to get information about me. So his thinking would have run….

He'd have no trouble reaching the fact that Julien and he attended the same school. And figuring out that the two had moved and spent time together during the free mission period would be just as easy.

So in the end, his thinking would have landed on testing how useful the connection Julien had built might be….

"……"

Mikhail laid his arm across the desk and tapped his fingers against it.

In truth, he could only guess at the direction of Cassien's moves. He didn't know exactly how Cassien had approached Julien or what instructions he'd given.

But from what he'd heard so far, whatever Cassien had asked of Julien seemed to be the kind that tormented him deeply.

Then I should see Julien first.

He'd only know the specifics for certain by seeing them himself. Mikhail let out a dry breath and rose from his seat.

It was still early morning.

So he'd shower first, send off the letter for the North, then go find Julien.

---

The express mail Mikhail had used this time worked differently from ordinary message transmission.

It was built solely around moving content fast.

Written messages were sent through communication stones installed at relay post offices, and once the message reached the destination region, a local clerk transcribed it by hand and delivered it to the recipient.

Because of that, express mail was significantly affected by environmental conditions—the kind of weather and mana flow that let communication stones run smoothly.

But when everything lined up favorably, news sent from the kingdom's south could reach the North in not much more than half a day.

Whoosh—.

Outside the dim window, a light snow was drifting. Joseph had been lying in bed; now he lifted his eyelids. A sidelong glance confirmed there was no one in the room.

Rustle.

Joseph pushed himself up from beneath the blankets. Then he stretched a hand quietly toward the side table. What his fingertips touched was a newspaper.

Clink.

Joseph laid the paper on his lap and pulled a nearby lamp closer. Orange light spilled across the page; Joseph turned through it and fixed his eyes on one spot. The paper he was reading had come out right after the suppression campaign ended.

[1st place: Salvator Academy. 2nd: Alliance Knight Order. 3rd: Guild Defense School….]

Above the headline tucked off to the side, the final rankings ran alongside photos of each team's participants. And among them was his own troublemaker son.

Joseph looked down at Mikhail's face among his friends for a long moment and smiled faintly.

He kept his eyes fixed there for a while.

Then he clicked his tongue inwardly and his brow drew tight. Looking at the size and placement of the photo, a corner of his chest welled up with petty irritation.

Bunch of small-minded—

Mikhail had finished first in the suppression campaign, no less—why on earth would they print him at the same size as everyone else?

"……"

But the grumbling soon faded. Joseph let his eyelids settle heavily and pressed his fingertips together.

If he'd passed down a better name, Mikhail could have been standing dead center in an instant.

He hadn't pushed his son forward—had he, instead, only handed him a road that cut at him with every step….

Those thoughts gusted up suddenly somewhere in his chest, and the breath he let out at the end came out bitter—

Click.

In that instant, the sound of the door handle turning reached him.

Joseph startled, flung the newspaper aside, killed the lamp, and burrowed back into the bedding. Just before someone stepped into the room, he shut his eyes.

Step.

The sound of boots on the floor came closer toward the side of the bed. Joseph played dead asleep under the thick covers. As long as he wasn't caught awake, whoever had come in would check on him and slip out quietly.

"Lord Joseph. Are you asleep?"

It was the head butler's voice. He was asking quietly at the bedside. Joseph pretended not to hear and kept his breathing deliberately even.

"Ah, asleep."

The head butler let out a small sound and continued in a voice as serene as the sky after rain.

"Even though the newspaper is sitting a good way from where I left it, and the lamp's still warm as if it had just been put out."

"……"

"And most of all, news just arrived from the young master, but since you're sleeping, there's nothing to be—"

He didn't get to finish.

Joseph shot up as though struck by lightning and looked up at the head butler standing beside the bed.

Beneath the silence, only their eyes did the talking.

The head butler held Joseph's stare for a moment, then finally smiled like a man who knew there was no point trying to stop him, and spoke.

"Lord Joseph. It hasn't even been a week since the defensive line was rebuilt. And it was just the other day you came back drained of every drop of color."

"……"

"You have to take care of yourself. Didn't I say you'd need to put everything else out of your head and rest properly for a while?"

The tone carried no surge of anger, only peace. But Joseph, more than anyone, could hear the worry tucked inside it.

Joseph's lips moved, then he slid his eyes off to the side and changed the subject in silence.

In response, the sound of the head butler properly putting out the dim lamp, then neatly folding the haphazardly-placed newspaper, reached Joseph's ears in turn.

A low intake of breath set itself between them.

The head butler picked up again.

"If I had my way, I wouldn't be raising anything with you that might interfere with your recovery. Letters from every corner of the kingdom piling up or no."

"……"

"But anything else, perhaps—word from the young master, I couldn't keep back. I know how dearly you care for him, how much you treasure even the smallest news of him."

With that, the head butler held out a neatly folded letter to Joseph.

Joseph turned toward him. As he took what was offered, he let out a sheepish little laugh.

Those who'd served the household for years could often see right through him.

"Well then. I'll take my leave. Once you've read it, please don't push yourself—rest."

The head butler reminded him once more, bowed, and turned away.

With the sound of the door closing, the room returned to its earlier quiet.

[Sender: Mikhail Senit]

Joseph listened to the receding footsteps, then tore open the envelope and looked at what was inside.

His heart began to beat a little harder than before.

Flap.

What would be written there. What had he wanted to say.

Whatever Mikhail said, whatever he asked, Joseph fully intended to grant it. Watching Mikhail grow up well was what he wanted more than anything….

[I hope you have been well in the meantime. After the suppression campaign, I have been staying on campus, preparing for the activities of the coming semester.]

Red eyes moved along the lines. The smile at Joseph's mouth began to thin, little by little.

[…Separately from what I asked above, there is something I would specifically like to ask of you, Father.]

Joseph set a low breath between the words.

On paper, in handwriting pressed down like a stamp, a short request was inscribed.

[Books on the origins and kinds of mana. I am looking for material with content not generally available to read.]

[If the library has anything along those lines, even one or two volumes would be enough—I would be grateful if you could be sure to send them along.]