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Chapter 33
I stared at the Emperor with a dazed expression. He was dressed in a heavy, gold-adorned cloak.
My eyes drifted to the slightly recessed threshold. The Emperor was naturally strong-boned, well-trained, tall, and probably weighed over 100 kg. And now, with teleportation adding gravitational force…
If he had landed on someone below, it would have been a disaster. Even if nothing broke, something surely would have cracked.
Thinking that made my heart drop. I silently thanked Leckalin.
“Oh, there’s someone here.”
“You almost got hurt.”
The Emperor, slightly embarrassed by Leckalin’s rebuke, approached me. The cloak on his shoulders fluttered.
“Sorry about that.”
“Ah, n-no.”
The Emperor extended his hand, but it was Leckalin, not me, who took it. The Emperor lightly shook Leckalin’s hand up and down before letting go.
Leckalin hadn’t let go of my hand yet. I turned my head to look at him.
His eyes looked slightly sharp. Was he angry?
“You’ll pierce the Duke like that.”
“?”
“Ah, y-yes.”
I hurriedly pulled my hand from Leckalin in response to the Emperor’s reprimand.
Somehow, it seemed like Leckalin was staring at the Emperor even more sharply. I must be imagining it.
“I have something to say.”
Clatter—
At that moment, Emma arrived with lunch. She tried to calmly announce the meal, but when she saw the Emperor, she screamed.
“Ahhhh! E-E-Emperor!”
“Shh. Duke, please.”
Leckalin cast a soundproof barrier over Emma. Seeing this, Violette muttered that he could have just used silence magic.
The Emperor really did have a strange side.
Why Leckalin was friends with someone like this… well, everyone had their reasons.
After waiting for Emma to calm down, the Emperor took her cart and said,
“Go back quietly without telling anyone. I’ll deliver this myself.”
“Yes, y-yes, sir.”
Emma closed the door and hurried away.
The Emperor placed plates in front of Leckalin and me. The savory smell of goulash wafted up.
Beside it were spätzle and sliced baguette. It looked delicious.
However, the Emperor stopped me from opening the plate and said,
“Listen to me first.”
They say not even a dog should be disturbed during a meal. Technically, it was before eating, so I decided to just listen.
I nodded and adopted a receptive posture.
Then, suddenly, the Emperor bowed deeply. Upon closer inspection, he bent almost 90 degrees at the waist. I jumped up in surprise.
“I sincerely apologize for threatening you.”
The sudden apology caught me off guard. I stared at the Emperor in wide-eyed shock. Even the spirits seemed startled.
[So proper.]
[I didn’t know he could bow.]
I looked at Leckalin, who seemed to expect this. Or perhaps he had requested this apology?
It felt like a ceremonial bow, but receiving an apology from the Emperor was not something easy to come by. I stood before him and said,
“Please rise, Your Majesty!”
Still, the Emperor remained unmoving. I asked him to rise once more. Then he asked in a subtle tone,
“Will you accept it?”
“…If you rise first.”
The Emperor straightened, sweeping the hair that had fallen over his face. Not bad for something supposedly fixed in place—it had slipped a lot.
“Are you satisfied?”
Satisfaction with an apology or forgiveness? Not really. But I answered yes, not wanting to cause trouble. The Emperor, looking pleased, opened the lid of the plate.
I expected him to leave afterward, but he didn’t. The Emperor sat in the corner, watching us eat.
It was overwhelming—I felt like I might choke.
I dipped baguette into the goulash and stole a glance at Leckalin. Well, Leckalin had eaten with the Emperor many times, so he seemed fine.
[Rasha, don’t worry. If you choke, I’ll fix it.]
“Thanks, Arhana.”
True to his word, Arhana had been helping correct my turtle neck and spinal scoliosis, the ailments of an office worker.
Lately, whenever I met Emma or Leona, they’d comment that my posture had improved.
“The meals from the former royal chef must really be delicious. It’s a shame I followed the Duke instead.”
Perhaps bored with watching, the Emperor spoke casually. Somehow, I gained extra info about the chef.
So he had been the royal chef. The Emperor then approached Leckalin, who had finished eating.
“Now, tell me.”
Tell you what?
While I was puzzled, Leckalin bowed to him. I stepped closer but the Emperor blocked me.
Leckalin’s voice was cold. Precise, authoritative, separating private and public matters clearly.
“It’s a power that will never cause harm.”
“Really?”
The Emperor echoed Leckalin’s words. Leckalin bowed even deeper.
“It may help, but it will never bring down Your Majesty.”
The Emperor observed him, swallowed, and then chuckled.
“If you put it that way, fine. I understand your intent.”
“Thank you.”
“But the Duke is too complacent. Does he not know the shadows cannot stand strong light?”
The Emperor shrugged. He already knew about Calian.
In the original story, the first meeting with Calian happened through Leckalin. But the perspective hadn’t been shown from the Duke’s side.
Even though the real main character never said much, he felt like a hidden villain.
Still, the final boss was somewhere else. I watched Leckalin’s reaction.
He knew shadows were embedded in his estate, so he answered calmly.
“When the light is strongest, so too are the shadows.”
“The Duke understands timing. Would you not return to the inner palace?”
“I’m afraid I must refuse.”
The Emperor sighed as if disappointed and looked at me. Why me again?
“It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“I am honored if you felt that way.”
Whether it was the meeting at the Infinite Library, the regular meeting, or now—I felt like it included all three.
The Emperor looked at me for a moment longer, smiled, and then took out a teleportation scroll.
Instead of the mage tower, it bore the royal seal—apparently a scroll produced by the palace itself.
“Excuse me. I’ll take my leave.”
Shh—pop!
The Emperor disappeared in a flash of light. Leckalin exhaled and called Emma, giving her an envelope of money. He spoke quietly in the now calm office.
“My apologies, assistant.”
“For what?”
“I didn’t expect His Majesty to arrive so quickly. I wanted to consult you first, knowing your anxiety.”
I wasn’t sure if he truly meant it, but he was a high-ranking noble. As a subordinate, he didn’t have an obligation to care for a mere assistant.
Many nobles used aides or servants as disposable shields.
I looked at his indifferent face. His gaze on me was clear and focused.
They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Even empty words felt nice coming from him.
And he had genuinely helped me, so I was simply grateful.
“It’s nothing. It’s fine.”
“Will you leave work early today?”
“No! I’ll leave exactly on time.”
“Very well, then.”
Leckalin and I simultaneously raised a gust of wind, gathering the scattered papers on the floor.
Blue mana blended with the wind—an intersection of magic and spirit arts. I had done similar experiments during research.
I tested how closely I could imitate the wind generated by magic using spirit arts, and to what degree it resembled the original.
Mana-generated wind felt more artificial than spirit-driven wind.
Leckalin neatly stacked the papers and said,
“Magic is often called a power that rends the world.”
A fitting term for truth-seeking mages.
Blue mana still flowed from Leckalin’s hands.
“Aura is said to divide the world,”
I recalled the Emperor’s overwhelming presence at the Infinite Library. It felt like it could split me in half.
“Divine power is said to serve the world.”
I thought of the golden divine power and halo that Calian would wield—granted by Lire as a reward for service, to protect the world after the Behemoth war.
He would later be called the Minister and Saint of the Stars.
“And spirit arts?”
“Spirit arts is…”
Leckalin paused, swirling the mana in his hands.
The vortex of mana grew, inflated like a balloon, and then pop!
The office filled with fragments of magic. Blue shards flew like colored paper in the wind, filling my vision.
I raised my hand and focused on the fragments. Using discernment, I could break them down individually.
I disassembled the fragments into tiny particles. Small, smaller, smallest.
The colors faded and merged into the void—they returned to mana.
Reverse Spell! Magic used to nullify another’s spell, normally only by magicians. Yet, I performed it easily with mid-level spirit power.
I stared at Leckalin in awe. He smiled brightly as the remaining shards of mana sparkled.
They looked like broken starlight, or petals scattering.
“It is a power that works with the world.”
It was an incredible, unimaginable power.
