BUEC 17

chapter 17

Even at Yulian’s sharp outburst, Gray still wore that damned gentle smile. He was the one who had arbitrarily kidnapped innocent people, and yet he acted like a benevolent guardian watching over a sick child throwing a tantrum. It made her furious to the point of shaking.

“Please don’t take it so personally. You’ve all been through quite a confusing ordeal these past few days. Your judgment must be clouded. We are only guiding you toward the wisest path. The Temple won’t push you, nor will it harm you. So there is no need to be afraid.”

“Who said I’m afraid? I’m just shocked and angry at how forcefully the Temple is handling this.”

“You will come to understand, in time, that our response was the most reasonable course of action.”

“Oh, give me a break! YOU—YOU HOLY XXXX XXXX!!”

Losing her temper completely, Yulian erupted into profanity. In response, Gray only rolled up his robe into a cushion, handed it to her kindly, and returned to the front of the procession.

Yulian stomped her feet so hard that the carriage shook. She was certain she would die of stress before the world ever ended.

She had never been this furious in her life. She had thought she had seen every kind of misery during her rough, twist-filled life—but she never imagined she would witness something like this.

As she clutched her head in frustration, grinding her teeth, Sol—quietly bound on one side of the carriage—spoke in a dejected, wilted voice.

“…I’m sorry, Lady Yuri. If only I had been stronger…”

“Ha—no, Sol. You fought twenty-one to one and knocked out nine of them. If the Paladin had lost to that, the Temple should just shut down for good.”

“But still—!”

When Sol looked more discouraged, Yulian swallowed her frustration with a deep sigh and tried to comfort him. His clothes were torn, scratched where blades had grazed him, and she couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. None of this was his fault. He had done more than enough—no, he had suffered far too much alone.

“Can you two be quiet? People might think you’re the only ones in this carriage.”

“….”

That annoying Mage Tower Master—if he hadn’t abandoned their escape plan right away and surrendered without a fight, they might’ve held out a little longer.

Yulian shot a cold glare at Lucas, who sat next to Sol in restraints.

Lucas, at least, had surrendered voluntarily, so he was spared the blindfold and straitjacket, but because he also posed a risk of escape, his wrists were bound with mana-suppressing cuffs.

Yulian wondered whether she should feel lucky or insulted that she alone had been considered incapable of escape and therefore left unrestrained in the carriage.

Doesn’t he brag about being the great Tower Master? Why has he been getting beaten nonstop since he showed up?

Yulian had many choice remarks she wanted to throw at Lucas, who always spoke like he was above everyone, but she refrained. Right now, they were all prisoners together; mocking him would only come back to slap her own face.

Instead, she calmly dug into her pocket, pulled something out, and tossed it onto Lucas’s lap.

“That’s yours.”

A rugged, tattered leather pouch landed on his knees—his old wallet, the one he had recklessly risked his life searching for even after being branded a criminal. Lucas’s eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe it. He looked at Yulian with a mixture of confusion and distrust.

“Th-this! How did you—? Where did you find this?!”

“I picked it up off the road. Thought it was trash.”

“—What?”

Wait, that sounded wrong.

Yulian quickly clarified that she wasn’t in the habit of picking up trash for fun, but as a teacher she believed in setting a good example, so she picked up litter on the roadside.

Lucas looked extremely offended at his precious wallet being repeatedly referred to as garbage, but he still managed to rein in his irritation when he spoke.

“What do you want? Why give this back to me?”

“What do you mean why? When you pick something up, you return it to its owner. Even kids know that.”

“Hah! For someone who says that, you’re quite the villain—!”

“I don’t know what you think of me, but I’m not the kind of person who’d stoop so low as to threaten someone’s family.”

When she opened the old wallet to identify the owner, she had found a few gold coins and a worn locket. Inside was a portrait of a smiling young boy with the same silver hair as Lucas—clearly his younger brother. The brother who had been kidnapped due to Lucas’s negligence, spending his childhood as a slave.

Yulian hated Lucas, yes—but that didn’t change her principles. There were boundaries you didn’t cross when dealing with people. She called that boundary morality, and she had always taught it to her students.

Even if the guy is a terrible, rotten, absolutely infuriating bastard…

As she silently ground her teeth thinking of all the trouble he had caused her, Lucas stared at the wallet for a long time. Only then did Yulian realize that his hands were tied, so she reluctantly leaned forward with a face that looked like she was touching a cockroach, slipped the wallet inside his robe, and quickly moved away.

…Light?

Just then, a faint glimmer flashed before her eyes. Startled, she lifted her head and—unfortunately—made direct eye contact with Lucas.

He had been staring with a blank, almost foolish expression, unsure what to say. But when he saw the horrified disgust on her face, he immediately scowled in return.

“—I didn’t expect you to be so sentimental about family. Especially from the very person who disgraced my family’s honor. Do you have any idea what the Duke of Varf family went through after you were banished?”

“Like I care.”

The moment her former family was mentioned, her mouth moved faster than her brain. Even Lucas looked stunned by the speed of her reply—but even she was surprised by how calm she felt inside, like a perfectly still lake without a ripple.

“The day I was expelled from Latem, the name ‘Varf’ was stripped from me. They abandoned me first. They’re not my family anymore. I have no ties with them and no interest in their affairs. So stop talking nonsense. Say one more word and I’ll gag you.”

At her very real threat, Lucas scoffed in disbelief but obediently shut his mouth. Right now, unable to use magic and unable to move his arms, he had no way to resist.

A gag? After all the humiliation he’d suffered these last few days, he’d had enough to fill an entire year of regrets.

The carriage finally grew quiet. Yulian, drained and mentally exhausted, tried to close her eyes for just a moment.

But only moments later—knock, knock—someone tapped the window.

“…What now?”

She yanked the window open. She expected Gray Carbon’s smiling face—he was the only knight who had spoken to them so far.

But instead, she saw a young templar who still looked barely older than a boy. Unlike Gray—who, despite everything, had at least been polite—this boy’s expression was flat, and his eyes carried a faint trace of disdain.

“You will soon be entering the portal connected to the Holy Nation.”

“…And?”

“For departure, we must confirm your identities. Sir Bartholomew Edgar of the Knight’s Guild. Lord Lucas Kalten of the Mage Tower. And you—what name shall we record for you?”

His tone was polite, but Yulian could feel it—he was looking down on her.

Not just him. Every templar surrounding the carriage, claiming to “escort” them, carried the same contempt in their eyes.

To them, Yulian and her companions were simply criminals.