Chapter 63

Mikhail looked at Julien standing across from him. Roughly ten paces separated them.

"……."

Julien was stumbling backward, his face a mask of shock he couldn't contain.

His complexion had drained to a deathly white, as though doused in pale moonlight, and his violet eyes trembled.

Mikhail held his gaze on Julien without flinching. He pressed weight into his voice and drove the conversation forward.

"Julien. Did your father really want to see something like that?"

Julien didn't open his mouth.

No—more likely, he couldn't.

Thud.

Julien's head dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

His unsteady hands rose in stiff, jerking motions and closed over his bowed face.

His shoulders heaved three, four times.

Like a branch caught in the eye of a storm, a voice teetering on the edge of collapse leaked through the gaps in his clenched teeth.

"Shut up."

"No. There's no way he would've wanted to see that."

"Close your mouth. Please."

His whole body listed like a crumbling tower. Julien swayed as though he might collapse at any second.

Sky-blue mana began sparking from his curled fingertips.

Pzzt. Pzzzzzt.

But Mikhail paid it no mind.

If anything, driven by the singular intent to shake Julien to his core, he stepped forward and spoke.

"That's exactly why the disguise made perfect sense. You had the kind of talent anyone would envy, but you couldn't let it show."

At the same time, Mikhail drew his left hand behind his back.

He gathered every scrap of mana pooled in his palm, then layered amplification and reinforcement formulas on top of each other until they hit their limit.

The moment to fire was close. Seconds away.

"Julien, you did it to survi—!"

"I said shut up!"

Julien's voice cracked wide open like shattered glass.

His head snapped up and his fingers thrust forward in a scream made flesh.

A vicious flare of mana blazed from their tips.

CRACK!

The mana that surged together swelled larger with every passing instant.

It was unprecedentedly pure and white. But the shape it took was a tangled mess—threads knotted and snarled beyond recognition.

Then, in one instant. Too fast to even blink.

BOOM!

A pale blue torrent of mana tore straight toward Mikhail.

A long time ago. A very long time ago.

He must have been around nine years old. Julien remembered the moment he first came face to face with the great mage of the North.

The great mage supposedly had little reason to ever leave the North, but…

Even so, just once, he'd visited the southern estate on business that young Julien couldn't begin to understand.

[Therefore, should this duel end in Lord Joseph's victory.]

[I ask that you accept the outcome and formally pledge to raise no further objections to the conferral of his title and the expansion of his direct authority.]

Julien's encounter with the great mage of the North happened on the night after that turbulent affair had concluded.

It wasn't a chance meeting.

Quite the opposite.

He'd ignored his nursemaid's warning to behave himself for the day, feigned sleep, and slipped out of his room.

He desperately wanted to meet the great mage said to be the kingdom's finest—no, perhaps the finest since its founding.

Partly out of curiosity and admiration. And partly out of a desire to settle a question he'd carried for a long time.

Tap-tap.

Pale moonlight seeped through the tall windows. Julien climbed over a windowsill and dashed down the marble corridor.

The annex—tucked away in a secluded, out-of-the-way corner of the estate, where the only foot traffic came from patrolling guards.

He'd heard that the great mage of the North had been given quarters there.

He didn't know the exact room, but…

People always said he was quick as a little mouse and brave as a newborn puppy.

Tracking down one guest room was well within his confidence.

—Click.

But the search Julien had braced himself for never happened.

The moment he stepped into the garden attached to the annex, a sound seized his attention.

"Hh… haah."

Julien caught his breath and stopped. He turned his head toward the fountain where the sound had come from.

The fountain, bathed in moonlight, traced soft, rounded arcs of water like a white dolphin from a storybook.

And on the bench beside it sat a person who looked as though they'd stepped right out of one of those old tales.

"……."

Dark blue hair, fine and lustrous, falling past the waist.

Pale skin that stood out even more starkly beneath the black night sky, casting a faint glow.

And set above it all, eyes like red gemstones—gleaming the way a crown's jewels had once shone from behind a tall display case.

—Click.

That was when the stranger flicked their fingers with a sharp snap and gestured for Julien to come closer.

Julien hesitated for a moment, then obeyed and walked up to stand before the person who'd beckoned him.

The man's gaze settled squarely on Julien's face. A cool pressure radiated from those crimson eyes.

"……."

Julien flinched under the cold stare and shuffled back a step or two before he could stop himself.

But the fearful retreat was short-lived. He reminded himself why he'd come here in the first place.

Julien steadied the pounding inside his chest and opened his mouth.

"Um, e-excuse me… do you happen to know where Lord Joseph Senit is? I came looking for him."

The stranger raised an eyebrow, then slowly withdrew the gaze that had been fixed on Julien.

He tilted his head to face forward, and then—

Fwish.

He traced a finger through the air.

Silver script began inscribing itself across the dark blue atmosphere.

[That's my name. Joseph Senit.]

Julien shifted his eyes from the message and stared blankly at Joseph.

The disbelief on his face was plain as day.

"Hah."

Joseph let out a small breath, then raised a finger and pointed at the sky.

Julien followed the gesture and tipped his head back.

Glittering stars filled his upturned eyes, packing the night sky to the brim.

Then, without warning, a single white star began drifting closer and closer—

"Whoa?"

Something cold touched his cheek. Julien blinked and watched the soft, silent flurry drifting down around him.

Snow. Pure white snow was falling.

Julien reached his fingertips toward the cold flakes, then snapped his startled gaze over to Joseph.

A beat later, the reason he'd come here rushed back to him, and he dipped into a hasty bow.

"Oh, h-hello! I'm s-sorry I didn't recognize you! My name is Julien Leventia! Um… I came because there's something I really wanted to ask—no, to humbly ask the great mage of the North!"

Julien poured everything out in a single breathless stream, then raised his eyes to peek at the man across from him.

The snow had already stopped at some point, and Joseph was watching him with a slow, steady nod.

[I see. Nice to meet you, Julien Leventia.]

Joseph patted the seat beside him.

[Come here.]

Julien did as offered and sat down. Another line of text appeared before his eyes.

[What is it you want to ask?]

"Well…."

Julien glanced back and forth between the script and Joseph, hesitating briefly, then drew a steadying breath and cupped his hands together.

Pzzt.

A small flash of light, and a blue sphere of mana floated up from Julien's palms.

He stared at the sphere he'd created for a quiet moment, then carefully held it out toward Joseph.

"I was wondering… if I could ever become a mage my father would be satisfied with. Could you take a look? Please?"

Julien swallowed hard, tension written across every line of his face.

He fixed his gaze on those crimson eyes and waited for Joseph's answer.

"……."

But Joseph didn't respond right away. He simply watched Julien in silence, his expression frozen like ice.

Julien stole a few nervous glances, then ventured cautiously.

"Y-you can be honest with me. Even if you say I'm hopeless, I won't cry. I won't talk back, either. I—"

Tap.

That was when Joseph reached out and clasped both of Julien's hands in his own, then slowly closed his eyes.

A faint halo of light shimmered at the point where their fingers met.

Hummmm.

The gentle vibration and warmth lasted only a heartbeat.

The mana sphere resting in Julien's hands began to change.

Its blue surface grew brighter and brighter until it transformed into a brilliant white glow.

"Whoooa."

Julien's face lit up as he stared at the sphere, then raised his eyes to Joseph.

Joseph wore a faint smile as he released the hands he'd been holding.

Tszzzt.

The white sphere faded and vanished. Beneath the quiet night sky, Joseph gazed at Julien in silence.

[Julien, you.]

Silver script floated up into the air, word by word.

[You can absolutely become an incredible mage. I'm certain of it. But.]

The message trailed off, unfinished. Julien, who had been watching the words in silence, asked carefully.

"'But'? Why? Did I do something wrong again?"

Joseph shook his head and pressed his lips shut.

His gaze drifted downward as though sorting through his thoughts, but soon he raised his eyes again.

A smile tinged with something like sadness crossed Joseph's face, and new words began etching themselves into the air.

[Don't tell your family about your mana. Especially not your father. For as long as you possibly can. Understood?]

The lettering was thick and heavy, as though pressed down hard with each stroke. But what puzzled Julien far more was what the words actually said.

Hadn't he just said Julien would become the greatest mage? Why would he tell him not to share something that would make his father overjoyed?

What could he possibly mean…?

Julien's face was brimming with questions, and he was about to press further when—

Rustle.

The nearby bushes stirred and footsteps sounded. The estate's patrolling guards must have been close.

Julien flinched and hunched his shoulders, and Joseph rose slowly from the bench to stand between Julien and the sound, shielding him from view.

"……."

The guards' footsteps soon headed off into the distance.

Julien blew out a long, fluttering breath and looked up at Joseph.

Joseph glanced down at him, then jerked his chin lightly toward the main building.

[You should head back before you get in trouble, Julien.]

Julien read the message and nodded.

He knew that on nights when guests visited the estate, the patrol guards circled the same spots three or four times over.

Julien hopped down from the bench.

Clink.

In the meantime, Joseph had produced a plain, rough-hewn brass badge from his inner pocket.

Then he bent to one knee so his eyes were level with Julien's.

"?"

Julien stared at Joseph, eyes round with curiosity. Joseph met his gaze and smiled softly.

He placed the badge he'd just drawn out gently into Julien's hand, then reached forward and folded him into a careful embrace.

"……."

The warmth where their bodies touched was unusually tender.

Julien blinked in a daze. His vision blurred for reasons he couldn't quite name, and through it, one final message was being written.

[What I just gave you is a token that marks you as the North's most honored guest. So if anything ever gets too hard to bear, come find me. I'll help you.]

…Ah, what happened… after that.

Everything was hazy. As though walking through a dream.

Julien swayed against his tilting body and let out a thin, aching sound.

Each time his eyelids fluttered open and shut, scenes from the past sharpened like flickering flames, then blurred away again.

Ah, right. Back then. I should've… followed those words to the end.

Julien bit down hard on his lip. In the end, he'd failed to heed Joseph's warning.

He'd kept it in mind, but only briefly. He'd been too consumed with escaping his isolation to remember the caution.

The great mage had confirmed it—he would become an incredible mage. He'd been so sure his father would be thrilled.

Joseph's warning must have come from not knowing Julien's father—from not seeing the man who'd smiled at him from time to time.

That was the kind of… stupid optimism that had driven him to act.

"……."

Julien raised his trembling hands and pressed them over his face.

That was when it happened.

[—Julien, I'm the legitimate heir of the North. The son of Joseph Senit, the man your father despises more than anyone.]

Mikhail's voice took vivid shape and layered itself over the shattered fragments of the past.

[Your family. Your circumstances. When I thought about all of that and traced back through the situation, something occurred to me.]

Yes. Mikhail had been right.

Julien smiled bitterly and looked back.

[Did your family really want to be confronted with a picture that reminded them of their deepest shame? Something like.]

Above the night sky preserved in a corner of his memory—

A sky where the moon never rose.

[A bastard they'd always dismissed as beneath them, rising above the legitimate heir through sheer ability.]

On a certain day in the past.

Julien had gone to his father's study—the room where the man had shut himself away.

He'd walked past shattered liquor bottles and torn documents, across a carpet stained with dark, stubborn blotches.

He'd stood alone in the middle of that room—desolate as a wasteland—and let his mana bloom, blindingly pale blue.

And what he'd faced in the very next moment was—

[Julien… stupid Julien…. How cruelly ironic. How bitterly unfair! Ha! Hahaha! Hahahaha!]

A savage voice. The reek of hard liquor. His father's bloodshot eyes—all of it flooded Julien's vision.

[Did you think you were something? You vulgar, worthless wretch. Base and filthy creature! Your origins can never be changed. They must never change! That is your fate! …Remember this, Julien. If you ever dare show me that disgusting display again, you will lose everything I've given you. I'll strip you of it all and make sure you never stand again—!]

The bestial roar echoed and rang in his ears.

And with it, a powerful hand shot out from nowhere, seized his face, and drowned his vision in black.

And then. And then… his neck ached. His chest felt like it was burning alive. His mind going blank and white, as if—

"Julien."

A voice carried on the cold wind jolted him back to the present. Julien exhaled and looked straight ahead.