CICN 25

Chapter 25

Lilian.

As soon as Seraphina uttered the name, she quickly covered her mouth with her hand—but it was already too late.

“…What did you just say?”

At the low voice, Seraphina shut her eyes tightly.

Everyone feared Cloys, but working under him was surprisingly easy.

As long as you fulfilled your duties, he didn’t pay much attention to formalities or etiquette.

People called that his generosity, but Seraphina knew the truth.

He was simply too exhausted—even getting angry was a bother to him.

But even someone like him had a line that could never be crossed.

And that was speaking carelessly about his wife and daughter.

“W-Wait, that’s not what I meant…”

“You’d better answer properly, Seraphina Lidham. Just because you were close with my wife doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.”

His tone made it clear—any hesitation would cost her her head.

She hadn’t planned on hiding anything anyway, so she spoke honestly.

“You… You know Lilian was a bit different, right? It wasn’t magic, but she had a strange power.”

“…She did.”

“Maybe because her power’s energy wave was similar to my mana, but whenever she was near me, my magic became more accurate. It felt like my spells became more stable and solid.”

But even as she explained, Cloys’ expression only grew colder.

“Why am I only hearing about something so important now?”

“Because Lilian asked me not to tell Your Majesty.”

“…Why?”

“How could I know her exact thoughts? She was called a witch and treated like an outcast. I guess she didn’t want anyone knowing about that unusual ability. Besides, she said she didn’t even fully understand how it worked.”

“……”

Worried he might explode, Seraphina anxiously glanced at him.

She’d witnessed firsthand during the war how mercilessly he took lives.

She had no intention of triggering that fury, even by mistake.

“S-So… we should hurry, don’t you think? I’m worried about the child…”

“Make preparations.”

Fortunately, Cloys didn’t press further and let her be.

Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, Seraphina turned to the magic stone in front of her.

It was large and saturated with powerful mana.

“With this much power, a skilled mage like myself can cast a tracking spell over the entire palace without issue.”

However, the real problem was the residual magic left behind by the old palace mages, who had buried this stone deep underground.

Their enchantments weakened any new spells cast on the grounds.

Seraphina raised her hand. A bright light surrounded her, and a whirlwind spiraled out from where she stood.

Then, suddenly, a thought from earlier crossed her mind.

“If only Lilian were here, we’d find her in an instant.”

Lilian had always been the one to keep her steady whenever she started to falter.

Thanks to her, how many lives had they managed to save?

“It’s no use missing her now.”

It was strange how something she hadn’t thought about for seven years suddenly returned to her today.

Shaking off her thoughts, Seraphina focused again.

As she willed it, the tracking spell expanded throughout the entire palace.

Now, all she had to do was detect responses from people within the buildings and identify the presence of a child.

“This will take a while…”

And then—

“…!”

Within the wide-spread net of the tracking spell, she felt it—an unmistakable aura.

In one of the buildings, tucked away in a remote corner of the imperial palace.

* * *

Whiiiish.

It sounded like the wind was blowing outside. A faint whooshing came from the high glass windows.

Ibi blinked and pulled the blanket a little tighter.

Sure enough, once it got dark, the chills came.

“I want to sleep in my bed…”

She missed the fluffy bed and blanket in her room.

The blanket that rustled softly when she buried her face in it and smelled like sunshine.

The ones at the orphanage always smelled nice too, thanks to how diligently they were washed—but still, the ones at the academy were softer and cozier.

That’s why, even after waking up in the morning, she’d lie there squirming, reluctant to leave.

“I want to go home.”

The moment that thought crossed her mind, Ibi startled herself.

How long had she even been here?

She’d only slept in that bed for one night—and already, she was thinking of it as “home.”

She still had a chair to lie on, a blanket to cover herself, and even candy left in her bag—and yet here she was, thinking life was hard.

“Compared to living at the inn, this is nothing.”

Ibi remembered things she hadn’t thought about in a long time.

* * *

Ibi’s earliest memory was of the stable behind an inn.

An older woman working there had taken her in after she’d been abandoned.

“The innkeeper picked you up from the forest. So be sure to obey him.”

Once Ibi could walk and talk, the innkeeper immediately put her to work.

At first, she shoveled manure in the stables.

Then, because she was small, she was made to clean chimneys—not just at the inn, but across the village.

Ibi hated that job.

It wasn’t just physically demanding—people would spit at her when she came back covered in soot, saying she was disgusting.

In summer, at least she could wash up easily, but in winter, it was impossible.

The stream next to the inn froze solid when winter came.

Even when she tried breaking the ice with rocks, it never cracked—just hurt her hands.

Sometimes she’d chip off some ice near the edge and use the melting water to wet her throat, but that was all.

The innkeeper and his wife used hot water from the kitchen—but of course, Ibi was never allowed any.

She once tried washing her face with freshly fallen snow, but it was too cold to stay on her skin for long.

So in winter, Ibi looked even filthier than usual.

Whenever she passed by, the innkeeper and his wife would cover their noses and wave her away.

“Ugh, what’s that smell? Filthy brat. Go wash up, now!”

“B-But there’s no water…”

“There’s that spring deep in the forest that doesn’t freeze, isn’t there? Go wash up there! If I see you filthy tomorrow morning, you’re out of the stable!”

At the threat of being thrown out, Ibi trembled.

She could survive because she had the stable—but if she was kicked out…

She remembered a man she’d seen frozen to death on the street recently. She was young, but she understood death.

Never opening your eyes again. Never speaking again. Buried under the cold earth.

She didn’t want that.

So Ibi went into the forest alone.

But the forest was terrifying too.

“There are wolves here…”

People said wolves ate anyone who walked alone.

That’s why villagers only entered the forest in groups—never alone, especially at night.

But if she didn’t wash up, she’d be kicked out and starve. She’d never be given even dry bread again.

To Ibi, hunger and cold were scarier than wolves.

As she entered the forest, only the sound of the wind greeted her.

On the way to the unfrozen spring deep in the woods, she heard footsteps behind her.

When she turned—there it was.

A wolf. Eyes glinting not far away.

Grrrr…

The wolf slowly approached, drooling—it looked starving.

“Is this how I die…?”

She should’ve just stayed and gotten scolded.

Freezing to death might’ve hurt less than being torn apart.

But regrets came too late. The wolf was drawing nearer.

Ibi crouched down and curled into a ball. That was when her hand suddenly grew hot—and a blinding light flashed through the dark woods, like lightning.

“Huh?”

Even in her terror, the sudden light startled her. She looked up.

Her hand was glowing with a strange light.

On the back of it was a black, blotchy mark—something she’d never seen before.

She stared at it, transfixed, forgetting even the wolf in front of her.

“…What is this?”

Of course, there was no one around to answer her question.

While she stared in shock, the mark faded away from her hand.

Then she remembered the wolf—and looked up again.

“Huh?”

The wolf was gone.

It had already turned around and was walking away, as if Ibi hadn’t even existed.

That night, Ibi safely reached the spring deep in the forest.

She washed her body with the warm water that flowed from it.

And she didn’t run into the wolf again on the way back to the inn.

“You came back alive? Guess you’re lucky.”

The innkeeper tilted his head, surprised to see her—but quickly lost interest.

To him, Ibi was someone whose life or death meant nothing.

That night, curled up in the straw of the stable, Ibi stared at the back of her hand for a long time.

“It looked so strange…”

If anyone else saw it, they’d probably hate it—call her diseased and avoid her.

But for some reason, Ibi felt like it had protected her.