Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

20 – Why Are *You* Here?

Long ago, a great calamity descended upon the Empire.

A plague of monstrous things.

A stampede of monstrous things pouring forth from gates that overflowed beyond prediction.

A *stampede.*

The scene that unfolded thereafter was breathtaking in its horror.

Mothers devoured before the eyes of their children,

lovers torn apart, leaving only a grasping hand behind.

All were stricken with terror.

Every nation entered a state of emergency,

and the gates to each city were bolted shut.

But that was only a story for those who had gates and soldiers enough to hold them.

The villages lacking the manpower and resources

were left to be ravaged, and the world filled with screams.

As news of villages annihilated continued to arrive,

a single tale of victory emerged from one such village.

That a mere rural village could achieve victory against the demonic hordes was astonishing enough, but more astonishing still was the fact that

it was all the work of one individual.

The Empire dispatched soldiers to investigate, and they found the monsters torn and gouged, their forms unrecognizable.

Amidst the evidence of power beyond that of any single person,

they were able to find the individual responsible.

A recluse, an oddity who had chanced to be staying in that village.

It was Prion Heibel.

Thereafter, his personal power was recognized,

and he was bestowed with the title of Great Sage and entered into a contract with the Empire.

Not a contract between the Empire and the Empire, mind you,

but a contract between the Empire and an individual.

That alone speaks volumes as to the extent of his power.

Many are those who believe they can fathom him.

Simultaneously, he had forged a reputation as the mage who single-handedly stopped the Stampede, a title that falls nothing short of a mage’s dream.

And such a figure has come to the Magic Tower, so

one can understand why the mages rush in, eyes blazing.

I wish to avoid him more than anyone, but

his affection for his disciples is legendary enough, so

who knows what he might do if he sees me.

News may not have reached him yet, but

it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Thinking so, I was about to turn and run

when someone grabbed my shoulder, and as I turned to shake them off,

“Well, well, if it isn’t… my disciple’s fiancé?”

“…Greetings.”

Somehow, through that throng of people, Prion had found me,

grasping my shoulder.

He had subtly antagonized me since the betrothal

between Isabella and I was arranged.

It’s understandable that he would dislike the idea of his disciple, whom he raised like his own daughter, being

tied by betrothal to some nobody.

However, there was no expression of affection between her and me, and

no feelings passed between us, so I can only feel wronged.

Moreover, now that I’ve left the family, her betrothal to me is

as good as broken, so the reason for his hostility has vanished, but

has he not heard?

“…I am no longer the Young Lady’s fiancé.”

“What?”

“Some time ago, I left the family, so the betrothal has likely been

annulled.”

I was about to explain that I was no longer her fiancé when

his face began to turn a mottled red and purple.

“…So…you’re saying…my…beloved

disciple is now destined to be a widow…?”

“Pardon?”

Something is going strangely awry.

A broken engagement is not an uncommon occurrence in a noble society that’s full of romantic intrigue, and even if the betrothal were broken,

how many would dare to find fault with Isabella?

“That is…usually, one doesn’t become a widow from a broken engagement…”

“Ha…ha!! HAHAHA!!”

This is a little unsettling.

I edged backward, thoughts racing on how to escape,

but then his large hand closed over my shoulder again,

and nausea churned in my stomach.

Barely suppressing a gag, I looked up to find

the scenery had shifted entirely.

The fresh air, gone.

Replaced by the musty scent of old books, a damp greeting to my nose.

A vista overwhelmed me, suggesting it held a collection

to rival any library imaginable.

Spatial teleportation? If so, where was I, and

why had I been brought here this way?

“…Sit. I called you here to have a conversation, after so long.”

I didn’t drop my guard at his words, but I did lean back

against a chair that had somehow appeared.

“…Time may pass, but records do not change.”

“This place is an archive, if you will, where my research

and that of other mages is stored.”

“No one besides myself comes here willingly, so you can speak freely.”

Speak freely, he says…

How many could speak freely in front of you?

“I’m fine. I’m more comfortable like this.”

“Hmm…you are rather different from the rumors I’ve heard.”

“Rumors, you say?”

“That you’d completely rotted away.”

“…There is truth to that, yes.”

No need to argue.

I committed the deed, and I have no intention of denying it.

I just don’t want the dishonor to befall my family.

If the family’s honor continues to erode,

my mother, who staked her life believing in the ducal house, would become

a laughing stock.

“…So, why did you bring up the family?”

“You don’t believe the rumor that I was cast out?”

“After tolerating whatever you’ve done up until now, has the head of the family

decided that now is the time to banish you?”

“…Couldn’t that be the case?”

“I wouldn’t have bothered to say that if I thought you were so dim-witted.”

I don’t know how long he’s been watching me,

but his insight is remarkable.

It was meant to be a deliberate deception.

Yet, the thought that I was seen through so easily nagged at me.

“…So, what is the reason?”

The silence stretched longer than anticipated, and

Prion, his expression severe, pressed again.

Why I left, he asks.

The Duke’s estate, where all could indulge in the pleasures of wealth and desire.

Was there a reason for me to abandon it?

If asked for a reason, my answer could only be one thing.

“What I desire is not there.”

“That’s all?”

“No matter how many others yearn for that position,

I no longer seek anything within it.”

“..I must correct myself. You’re not just different from the rumors,

you’ve changed completely.”

Prion seemed to ponder, then, with eyes that had turned a piercing blue, questioned me again.

He must have used “Falsehood Detection.”

Which meant there was something he so desperately needed to know.

Since I couldn’t deceive him with my abilities anyway,

I should at least refrain from lying to avoid earning his animosity.

“Then what you desire…is it detrimental to the Empire?”

Was that the crux of the matter?

Either way, Prion was now someone with a responsibility to protect the Empire.

Even one who disliked being tied down always returned to the Magic Tower for that very reason.

If what I wanted was harmful to the Empire,

I would be ostracized immediately.

Without a flicker of emotion, I responded.

“No, it isn’t.”

Because it wasn’t a lie.

What I desire is simply to reach the absolute limit.

This would hardly harm the Empire; instead,

it might even benefit it.

Soon, he seemed to realize that my words were not false.

He withdrew his mana, and the blue light faded from his pupils.

“Forgive me for testing you. I have my own circumstances.”

“It’s quite alright.”

“..If my student’s disposition had anything to do with your leaving the family…

I offer my apologies in her stead. Please, forgive me.”

Isabella’s personality was, to be sure, not the easiest.

He must have known it as well, hence his apology to me.

But that did not mean I had any reason to hold him accountable.

She merely ignored me; there were no backstabbing nor attempts to actively harm me.

That much, I could readily overlook.

Though, admittedly, it was a touch disheartening, even lonesome, to be treated so uniquely.

How many would welcome unwarranted animosity?

But I was not so petty a soul as to fault him for it.

“It’s quite alright. It wasn’t the Grand Sage’s fault in the first place.”

“..I thank you for saying so.”

His attempt at a bitter smile seemed to carry a father’s regrets.

He then asked the reason for my visit to the Magic Tower, to which I replied truthfully.

Then,

“..You said you can mass-produce scrolls…?”

“That is the case, yes…?”

“Could you show me?”

He said, handing me a sheet of paper.

Suppressing the feeling of ‘this again,’ I simply repeated what I had done moments before.

The paper he gave me transformed into a scroll in short order.

He stood there, speechless, utterly aghast.

“H-How did you do that?! Please, tell me!”

“..It’s just a scroll etched with a formula, is it not?”

“I’ve searched every corner of the world and never seen anyone create scrolls so quickly! What magic did you use? Can you tell me?”

I was aware that I created scrolls quickly, but nowhere else in the world?

“Isn’t it just a matter of etching it?”

“The amount of control required to etch it like that…Just a moment.”

He cut himself off, and then placed his hand on my chest, precisely over the location of my heart.

He placed his hand upon it and breathed in mana.

Then, he felt his mana brush against my mana circle.

A tap, and then tap-tap again.

“Hoh… that such a thing could be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You noticed that I was stimulating your circle, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Normally, if someone agitates the circle, the body’s mana, no matter how

meager, should thrash about uncontrollably.”

“…?”

“But you unconsciously managed to control it.

It’s an absurd level of control, I tell you.”

“….????”

“Talentless fool, my foot. Overflowing with talent, more like. This damned world.”

Wait, *you’re* saying that?

Suddenly hearing I have talent doesn’t quite register.

Everything I’ve experienced is already in the past, after all.

It’s just… helpful for the future, I suppose.

…Still… still… STILL!!

Then all the

Knock knock—

Knock knocks I’ve endured, what were they even for… Knock knocks?

“Master, may I come in?”

“?! Ah, yes, come in, come in.”

“..No, wait a moment!!”

Before I could stop them, the door opened, revealing her, offering a

polite greeting to the master. And beyond her, a woman, her gaze

half bewildered at seeing me, the other half filled with remorse.

“..Why are you here?”

“…”

Prion’s only disciple,

and his most cherished.

It was Isabella’s unexpected arrival.