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Chapter: 22
“Trying to bind me with chains like these?!”
Thinking he was being insulted, he shouted furiously and resisted with all his might.
It was as if an invisible, overwhelming force crashed against the chains—clang! A piercing, tearing sound rang out in all directions.
I hurriedly covered my ears at the dreadful noise, but Pelion looked completely unfazed, staring at Moremo with a face full of disdain.
Unlike him, Moremo was visibly flustered, flailing his hands in panic.
“Why are the chains still intact? I clearly poured an immense amount of magic into—!”
The answer to the situation not going as he intended came from Pelion.
“I truly thought you were more suited to be the Tower Master than I was. I believed no one cherished the Magic Tower more than you.”
It sounded as though he was saying that Moremo had already been qualified, but for some reason had never taken the position.
“A wretch like you dares to look down on me?!”
Moremo, clearly feeling the same indignation, shouted in rage.
“But now that I know my judgment was wrong, I can’t just stand by and watch.”
“Stop spouting nonsense!”
“It may be a little troublesome and inconvenient, but I can’t let the Magic Tower fall apart, either…”
After a brief pause, he continued in a flat voice.
“What can I do? I’ll have to become the Tower Master.”
His tone was so calm—as if he were suggesting grabbing a meal—that it felt all the more sincere. But Moremo seemed to take it as an insult.
“With such a half-baked attitude, you think you can—!”
As if there were no reason to listen any further, Pelion waved his hand. The chains that had been frozen in place suddenly tightened, completely binding Moremo.
Caught off guard and tied up tightly, he twisted his body to resist once more, but the chains did not loosen their hold.
Watching the scene, Pelion stepped closer to him.
“You dare put me in this state just to save someone who isn’t even your real daughter?!”
Moremo seemed to give up on escaping, then his eyes flashed strangely.
Pelion hurriedly stepped in front of me, and at the same time a tremendous force slammed him toward the wall.
The impact knocked the bottles hanging on one side of the wall to the floor.
Crash! As something shattered, smoke spread rapidly through the room.
Before I could even process what was happening, blinking in confusion, a wrinkled hand mottled with age spots appeared right before my eyes.
Taking advantage of a momentary lapse, Moremo had apparently escaped the chains. Using the fog to conceal himself, he charged straight at me.
With nowhere to run, I instinctively curled up—but just before his hand could reach me, newly extended chains shot out and blocked the space between us.
Slamming into the chains, he let out a pained groan and was flung backward. The chains immediately began wrapping tightly around the collapsed Moremo.
Tensing, afraid he might lunge again, I watched closely. At some point Pelion had come to my side. Clicking his tongue in irritation, he asked,
“Are you hurt?”
I answered while subtly hiding my injured arm.
“No. Thanks to your perfectly timed appearance.”
When I smiled as I said it, he sighed as though confronted with something deeply troubling.
“What’s going to happen to the Tower Master—no, to Moremo?”
As if in answer to my question, a sudden gust swept through, dispersing the fog in an instant.
Revealed within the clearing mist was his pitiful state.
Moremo was completely subdued, his entire body bound in chains except for his airway.
“What are those chains? Are they magic?”
“The Chains of Judgment. A spell that can be used on those who violate the Magic Tower’s laws. It was created by the first Tower Master. Since it destroys magic circuits, only the Tower Master and Vice Tower Master are allowed to learn it.”
Stripped of any chance to resist or even speak, he now looked little different from a mummy—his dignity utterly gone.
“His magic circuits are shattered, and he passed out from the pain. It’ll be hard for him to wake up for a while.”
Only after ending the situation did Pelion set me down on the floor.
“Why did you plan something so dangerous?”
He immediately pressed me for an answer.
“If I hadn’t shown you directly, you never would’ve believed me.”
“So you risked your life just to make me believe you?”
He let out a hollow, incredulous laugh.
“And to gain one more chance to talk to you.”
“That still doesn’t justify doing something like this—”
Pelion began to speak, then let out a quiet sigh.
“I suddenly left for the Imperial Capital, and everyone told you to leave the Magic Tower… I suppose you had no choice.”
It was a sigh filled with deep realization.
“We should talk again, but not now.”
“Pardon?”
“Show me your injured arm.”
“Ah, this is—”
I tried to say it was fine, but his gaze was so firm that I hesitantly held out my arm.
He carefully took it and poured something from his pocket onto the wound.
“Did Moremo do this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
It was a genuinely innocent question.
“He said my blood is like a pearl with special power, similar to tears, so he wanted to experiment.”
“Special power?”
Just as Moremo had claimed, it seemed Pelion truly didn’t know that my blood was poison.
“Tears are a healing agent, but blood is a colorless, odorless poison—”
“What?”
I was only trying to explain, but his voice rose sharply.
“What do you mean by that?”
“To be precise, the blood drawn from a wound can be used as poison. A powerful poison with no cure.”
“……”
An indescribable emotion flickered across his face.
I couldn’t bring myself to ask what it was—it felt too vast, too heavy—so I stayed silent.
In the meantime, the wound had completely healed.
“Oh, it’s better now. Thank you.”
At my words, he snapped back to himself and asked,
“Then earlier, the reason you pointed a sword at your own arm was…?”
“I was threatening him so he wouldn’t come any closer. I had to protect myself, after all.”
When I answered the unfinished question, he said nothing.
But after a moment, he spoke again.
“I need to deal with the Magic Tower, and you’ll need time to recover. Let’s talk after that.”
“……”
When I looked at him doubtfully, he immediately added,
“Don’t disappear without a word again.”
“Promise me.”
I raised my injured hand and held out my pinky finger. He gave a dry laugh, then hooked his own pinky around mine in promise.
“But when we talk again, be as honest and open as you were today.”
“What?”
“No talk about dreams or anything like that. Whatever it is, tell me why you came here.”
I hadn’t expected him to push in like this so suddenly, and I couldn’t hide my momentary fluster.
“I’ve become curious about what kind of person the child I’m meant to protect really is.”
I knew deceiving him wouldn’t work—but I never expected him to say it this way.
“So stay in your room and focus on recovering.”
I looked at him for a moment, then nodded.
I’ll have to think carefully about how to explain it.
Whether I’ll tell the truth—or lie again.
The tower members arrived belatedly.
They were horrified at the sight of the wrecked laboratory, and Pelion entrusted Ophelia’s safety to Rachel, who had arrived with them.
After instructing them to preserve the scene, he personally transported Moremo to the Magic Tower’s underground prison.
After confirming that Moremo was perfectly restrained and leaving the dungeon, Pelion lifted his head, unable to hide his heavy emotions.
As he gazed up at the pitch-black night sky, his thoughts drifted to the younger sister who had left his side long ago.
“Pelion, why can’t I go outside?”
“I read in a book that the sea is really beautiful. When I grow up, I want to travel and see it. I want to play in the cool, salty water, splashing around.”
“It’s suffocating.”
“I’m scared… Can’t you take me outside with you?”
“Actually, crying hurts so much. I don’t want to cry anymore.”
“I always wanted to live like a proper human being, Pelion.”
Lilia had been born with mysterious powers, but she was a sickly child suffering from an incurable illness.
Because of her untreatable condition, she couldn’t even leave the estate, spending her days in pain, crying endlessly.
Pelion believed that not only he, but the entire family, had done everything they could for her.
But that wasn’t true.
He recalled the wound on Ophelia’s arm—and at the same time, a day shortly before Lilia’s death.
“Why does Lilia’s body have so many scars?”
“Every time the young lady had a seizure, she harmed herself.”
Countless small wounds etched all over the emaciated child’s body.
Perhaps what Lilia shed hadn’t been just tears.
He never should have believed such nonsense—that the wounds were from clawing at herself in pain.
