IDWP 9

Chapter: 9

“Pelion said this. That Miss Ophelia isn’t his daughter, so she can’t remain in the Mage Tower. He left on an urgent assignment, so we couldn’t talk in detail… but had you heard about it?”

When I gave a small nod, he showed a look of sympathy.

“It’s quite common for children of high-ranking nobles to have illegitimate children before marriage. Miss Ophelia was probably born that way as well.”

A soft sigh followed.

“I don’t know what Pelion is thinking by refusing to acknowledge Miss Ophelia as his daughter, but I consider it irresponsible. As his superior, I don’t want to simply stand by and watch.”

Now came the real point.

“Then… would the Tower Master be able to help me stay here?”

“Of course. I’ll ensure that you receive the Mage Tower’s protection until you come of age. If you find it hard to believe, I can even swear an oath upon my soul.”

“A soul oath?”

“A vow bound directly to the soul. Break it, and your soul is destroyed—a promise made with one’s life on the line.”

Had I known nothing and sat here innocently, I might have been moved by such unprecedented generosity.

But not now.

Pretending ignorance while knowing his true intentions was just as exhausting as facing him directly.

When I froze in apparent shock, he lowered his voice and whispered.

“Did you really come to the Mage Tower just to meet your father? Can you truly say you never once wanted to become a mage?”

As if seeing straight through me, he continued without giving me time to answer.

“The process of becoming a tower mage is extremely demanding. But there is exactly one easy way—recommendation from a senior mage.”

“It sounds like you’re saying you would recommend me, Tower Master.”

“You heard correctly. I would like to take you on as my assistant.”

“Based on what? I’ve never learned magic before.”

“If you’re Pelion’s daughter, you’ll manage just fine. If you learn step by step under me, you can certainly become an outstanding mage.”

Sweet words poured out like sugar.

In my past life—or to any ordinary person—I might have been completely taken in.

“Don’t you want to become a great mage, just like your father?”

Julia the nanny, and Elodie as well—they had approached me in the same way, masking their intentions with kindness and taking everything from me.

Fool me again, and I really would be a fool.

The reason Moremo had mistaken me for Elodie and kidnapped me in the past was simple: he had been searching for mermaid’s tears for a long time.

I didn’t know how he found out, but he knew that, very rarely, the blood of Hexwood carried the power of mermaids—and that was why he maintained such a favorable attitude toward me.

If he finds out I can’t produce pearls, he’ll discard me immediately.

So before that happened, I needed to get rid of the Tower Master.

Disgusting as ever, whether in the past or now.

I hated feeling trapped in his grasp, but thanks to that, it would be easier to summon Pelion—so it wasn’t entirely bad.

After much deliberation, I spoke cautiously.

“I’ve always thought I wanted to become a mage, but now that it’s real, I’m a little scared. Could I have some time to think?”

“Of course. There’s no need to decide in a hurry.”

Fortunately, Moremo nodded readily. As I took a sip of the tea in front of me and let my eyes wander, the strange scenery of the room came into view.

They said mages were eccentrics—and indeed, the room was piled with odd objects of unknown use and ancient-looking books.

Among them, the item that caught my attention most was a glass orb resting on the desk.

About the size of a human face, the orb was filled with water, and something floated inside it.

What is that?

It didn’t seem like anything special, yet my eyes kept drifting back to it.

As I stared, unable to look away, a hand suddenly appeared in front of me.

“Are you all right, Miss Ophelia?”

“…Pardon?”

“I called you several times, but you didn’t respond.”

At Moremo’s words, I snapped back to my senses. I felt as though I’d been bewitched.

“Tower Master, the temple has contacted us regarding cooperation on a magical artifact. You’ll need to step out for a moment.”

At Alice’s timely call, he swallowed his regret and stood up.

“It seems today’s tea time ends here. I’ll excuse myself first.”

“Yes. Thank you for inviting me.”

“No need for thanks.”

Waving it off, Moremo was about to leave when he seemed to remember something and rummaged inside his robe.

“Here. This is a token I personally give to my guests. Wear it around your neck.”

It was a necklace bearing a large hexagonal pendant—bigger even than the badge certifying one as a tower mage.

“Everyone will treat you favorably, so take your time looking around the Mage Tower. Who knows? Perhaps wandering the tower will help you make your decision.”

With a sly smile, he praised the Mage Tower as a truly marvelous place, then left the room at Alice’s urging.

I had no intention of staying in an empty room and moved to follow him—but then turned back toward his desk.

Up close, the orb contained something like a thin shard of metal.

But it looks too light to be metal…

From afar, the fragment had floated motionless in the center of the orb, but now it had risen to the surface.

That’s strange.

Suspicious, but aware it might be an important magical artifact, I chose not to touch it and quietly left the room.

The empty corridor was longer than expected, giving me time to think.

How long will the Tower Master’s offer remain valid?

The Tower Master I remembered was not a patient man.

I didn’t know how long his proposal would stand, but it would likely be less than two months.

Even if he seemed patient now, I intended to make him lose it.

More importantly, I know far too little about the Mage Tower. Should I try to find Rachel?

Letting out a sigh, I opened a door—and my eyes widened at the sight before me.

A vast space reminiscent of a grand ballroom spread out before me, with staircases whose levels were impossible to count, a ceiling with no visible end, and people rushing about. Above them, winged boxes and letters flew busily through the air.

I stopped in awe, marveling at the sight, when I heard a voice nearby asking people to clear the way.

Turning my head, I saw someone approaching while carrying so much luggage it filled the entire passage.

Nearby mages complained lazily as they lifted their bodies into the air.

Before I knew it, I was the only one left standing in the corridor.

Panicking, I tried to retreat back into the hallway I’d come from—but the door had somehow vanished.

What do I do now?

While I hesitated, the wall of luggage drew closer.

Just as I was about to raise my voice to announce my presence—

Someone grabbed my waist and yanked me back. Startled by the sensation of floating, I flailed as the person behind me shouted urgently.

“If you don’t want to fall, stay still.”

The voice was breathtakingly beautiful.

Too low to be a boy’s, too clear to be a fully grown man’s.

There was something hypnotic in that pleasant tone.

“What were you doing, standing there so dangerously spaced out?”

A strange sense of familiarity washed over me—as though I’d heard that voice somewhere before.

Moments later, after the person carrying the luggage passed by, we landed carefully on the ground.

“What? Of all people… the Vice Tower Master’s hidden daughter?”

The urge to turn around clashed with the desire to pretend I’d heard nothing.

Perhaps because I didn’t turn—

The owner of the voice stepped closer to my side.

“Looks like you were pretty shocked.”

The moment I met those suddenly appearing red eyes, I was so startled I forgot how to breathe.

Why are you here?

Beneath naturally tousled golden hair that looked as though the wind had swept through it, his beautiful face was unmistakable.

He was known as the only commoner among the men who stood beside Saintess Elodie, and was called the King of Mercenaries.

The first man Elodie chose.

The man who became her finest sword and shield, solidifying her position.

Why don’t you just die here instead?

The man who, as if mocking my will to live while I cried out in bitter injustice amid bone-chilling cold, had personally brought me poison.

And now—

The childhood version of that very Mercenary King stood right before my eyes.