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Chapter 16
‘Was that that bastard’s doing?’
At first, she thought it must’ve been Riman Jaykal making trouble again—maybe he’d formally objected to her admission or something, which would explain the delay.
But hilariously, the issue wasn’t that her acceptance hadn’t come through—only that the letter hadn’t arrived. Her name was already listed on the successful candidates’ board in front of the academy building.
When she sent a letter to inquire, a ridiculous reply came back:
[Usually, the admission notices are sent out by the instructors of each department, but since the Magic-Swordsman Class doesn’t have either a class or an instructor yet, it seems to have been omitted.]
“What nonsense. It’s not like they’re trying to pick a fight with a student.”
Julyn, sitting with Silia in the drawing room, snorted.
“Well, at least that’s a relief.”
That was Margaret speaking.
“They’ll have to find an instructor before you start. That’ll keep them busy.”
Silia nodded.
Ordinarily, Illod would have entered the academy first and set up the Magic-Swordsman Class himself—but since that idiot had vanished, she’d have to pave the way instead.
“…Actually, that works out better.”
“What does?”
There was someone she could take advantage of through this.
“Tower Master. That child took the knight qualification exam. A Magic Swordsman is still a swordsman, after all. The Knight Department technically has priority, so if you suddenly say you’re taking him—”
Ozca Hasfield—the current greatest swordsman in the kingdom, and aside from herself, the only Swordmaster.
A fine man, except for the fact that his political backing was weak, and he’d been poisoned to death in exile, not on the battlefield.
She planned to insist—loudly—that he was the only one qualified to teach her. Which wasn’t entirely false. Who else could teach a Swordmaster but another Swordmaster?
‘He’ll definitely be useful.’
They needed every capable person they could get if they were to prepare for war. It would be pointless to have captured Illod only for that idiot to fail again.
So, she’d make Ozca the “mentor of the kingdom’s only magic swordsman,” attach him to the Diamand family, and use that to save him.
Oh—and while she was at it, maybe have him teach Fleer too.
‘Let’s at least make sure he’s skilled enough that he won’t lose his head easily.’
If she surrounded herself with competent people, the kingdom’s forces would naturally grow stronger. Then, even if a Great War of Beasts broke out, they’d support Illod and handle it well enough.
Meanwhile, she’d quietly take her reward from the Diamand family, settle her debts, build a few escape routes for herself, and once peace came, just live her life.
Of course, she already had a plan for how to deal with the fame this would bring her.
‘When the time comes, I’ll just claim I was gravely injured. Use that as an excuse.’
If she said she’d been wounded badly enough to lose her ability to use magic or a sword, people would leave her alone. That was Silia’s thinking. Once she lost her usefulness, they’d stop chasing her.
Julyn, apparently misunderstanding Silia’s serious frown, raised his voice cheerfully:
“Forget about all that academy politicking. You’re overflowing with invitations anyway.”
He wasn’t wrong. The admission letter hadn’t arrived—but invitations were pouring in from everywhere else.
Silia muttered dryly, “Honestly, I’m more shocked it’s only this many.”
“There are still over twenty. Too bad none are from truly big names. They’re probably all watching Phillips’ reaction.”
“That’s the problem.”
It had been a few days since the transfer exam.
Given the power she’d shown then, half the noble houses should’ve been rushing to her doorstep by now.
Julyn tried to console her.
“Don’t be disappointed. Phillips is just as prestigious as Heinz. Everyone’s just waiting for the right moment—they don’t want to upset that house yet.”
“Speaking of which, aren’t you disappointed? You said you’d be satisfied just monopolizing me.”
“I’m fine. You can’t keep a raw gem uncut forever, right? Someday it’ll become a jewel. But instead…”
“Instead?”
“Let me manage your invitations for you.”
Of course.
The more famous Silia became, the more valuable Julyn’s connection to her would be. Her fame would become his foundation.
Silia had no objection.
‘Actually, that’s convenient.’
Julyn would filter and deliver the invitations himself, saving her the trouble of sorting through them.
Julyn smiled slyly, tail practically swishing.
“So, will you give me the right to monopolize you in this way?”
“Sure.”
Silia accepted his flirtatious words with practiced ease, nodding magnanimously.
“Thanks. I’ll make sure the results speak for themselves. For now, politely reject everything that’s come so far—they’re all small fry. We’ll respond when a true heavyweight appears.”
“Got it.”
“Oh—and go to this one.”
Julyn shuffled through the pile and handed her a neatly sealed violet envelope.
“What’s this?”
“An invitation to the Royal Academy’s orientation for new students.”
“I haven’t even received my admission notice. Can I just show up?”
She joked, but Julyn replied instantly,
“You got one too. Princess Marcella herself sent it.”
“……”
“It’s on the full moon next week. Don’t forget.”
No wonder that messenger had been sparkling so much when delivering it.
Julyn leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
“By the way, they call it an ‘orientation,’ but it’s really a social gathering. Take Ahaim Academy, for example—it’s the school for noble heirs, right?”
“Right.”
“They all already know how the academy works. Their parents went there. So why gather?”
“To build connections, obviously.”
Exactly. Under the guise of orientation, it was an event to gauge which alliances would be useful.
“Same goes for the Royal Academy. It’s full of nobles’ children too. Including your little target—Illod Heinz.”
Silia frowned.
“That br— that young lord’s going to show? I heard he hasn’t left his house.”
“Maybe not him, but other Heinz family members might. Looking for someone to sponsor, perhaps.”
“…They’d be scouting fallen nobles or commoners, huh? Just like how Diamand picked me.”
“Exactly. That’s why the Royal orientation is more colorful—you’ll have nobles, fallen aristocrats, commoners. It’ll be chaotic but fun.”
Fun wasn’t the word Silia would use. It sounded like a hassle—but she couldn’t skip it.
Especially not if someone from the Heinz family might appear.
“Meeting the Heinz people is way harder than it should be.”
“It’s just the beginning. Don’t stress so much. I still don’t get why you’re so desperate to find that shut-in heir, though.”
“You sound jealous.”
“There are other men besides him, you know. For example…”
“For example?”
“The bright, promising illegitimate son of House Tarnia?”
Julyn pointed to himself with a wink.
Silia replied coolly, “Speaking of illegitimate children, that reminds me—I should clear something up.”
“That you’re not the Tower Master’s illegitimate child?”
“How’d you know? I thought you were convinced.”
“Seeing you in person made it obvious. You look nothing alike.”
Which was true—different hair, different eyes, even different aura.
Margaret, who’d been quietly listening, finally spoke.
“Come to think of it, do you think he was serious?”
“Who knows.”
Remembering the Tower Master’s whirlwind of an offer made Silia tired all over again. The sudden gleam in his eyes, that golden hair, that beautiful face—he reminded her so much of someone else.
‘He’s probably another magic-obsessed lunatic. Makes sense—he is the Tower Master.’
“He was… unique. More like an opera diva than a mage lord,” Margaret summarized neatly.
“More like a cult lead—”
“Hmm?”
“Nothing.”
Saying the Tower Master resembled a cult leader was probably a bit too blasphemous.
“Do you think the rumor’s true—that he’s over a hundred years old? He didn’t look it at all.”
Julyn added, “Well, great mages age slowly. And they can change their appearance with magic.”
Silia nodded in understanding.
“It’s the same with swordsmanship. Swordmasters age slowly once they reach that level.”
“You’ll be able to do that too someday—maybe even more. Immortality, eternal youth…”
“Right. For someone your age to have that kind of power, Silia, it’s practically unheard of.”
Silia just smiled.
‘Let’s just hope my mana doesn’t backfire before that.’
She was just thinking she should hurry her plans when—
The door to the drawing room suddenly opened.
“Good afternoon.”
“Welcome, Karla.”
The newcomer was Karla Diamand.
Unlike when she’d disguised herself as a house steward, she was dressed in elegant clothes with her hair neatly pinned up—radiating authority just like Cecil Diamand himself.
Silia couldn’t help but wonder again: Are we sure she’s just Fleer’s cousin? She feels more like his sister.
“I figured we couldn’t delay any longer, with the orientation coming up.”
“What do you mean—”
Karla’s unblinking gaze suddenly dropped to Silia’s outfit.
Silia instinctively started to defend herself.
“This outfit’s been just fine so far—”
Twitch.
Karla’s eyebrow twitched, and when Silia looked down, she understood why.
‘Yeah… not exactly what a noble house’s protégé should be wearing.’
She’d been patching and mending it so much that it looked undeniably worn out.
She’d worn shabby clothes deliberately for the transfer exam—it made her eventual success look all the more dazzling by contrast.
A well-fed noble showing talent was expected. But someone who didn’t look the part showing overwhelming power? That always impressed people more.
It had worked back then, but Karla clearly wasn’t amused anymore.
“The attire of a sponsored student represents the sponsor’s dignity,” Karla said, voice cold enough to chill the room.
“While we’re at it, I’ll have outfits made for Mr. Julyn and Miss Margaret as well. Please come with me.”
“And what about me?” Silia asked.
Karla turned back.
“Lady Silia will be accompanying this person.”
Out from behind her stepped Fleer Diamand, impeccably dressed, scratching his cheek awkwardly.
