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Chapter 31
Rustle.
There was the sound of leaves moving.
Sillia sighed and spoke.
“Don’t tell me you’re planning to pretend you’re not there. That won’t work.”
Soon, a familiar figure emerged from the bushes.
“I didn’t think you’d notice. I’m impressed.”
“For someone who’s ‘impressed,’ you don’t look surprised at all, Dootoomi.”
He was one of the guards attached to Krondel—or rather, one of the Crown Princess’s spies.
When he heard his nickname, Dootoomi tilted his head slightly and replied.
“My name is Jun.”
“So you do know I’m talking to you. And now you’re even using honorifics?”
“The last time we met, you were rude to His Highness the Second Prince.”
“You’re one to talk. What about you, the Crown Princess’s errand boy?”
Jun remained silent for a while, simply watching Sillia, then said,
“I’ve never once felt ashamed of that.”
His tone was utterly sincere. Sillia responded with a hint of sarcasm.
“So your loyalty only belongs to Her Highness the Crown Princess, huh?”
She had thought, just maybe, that he’d turned a blind eye when she went to rescue Krondel—but no.
There was no point in talking around in circles with someone like him. She decided to get straight to the point.
“Since we’re on the topic of the Prince…”
“What about him?”
“Isn’t it annoying? Having to track his every move?”
“It’s my duty—”
“I’ll take over for you.”
Jun’s eyebrows rose slightly. Sillia spoke in a calm, even tone.
“Anyway, the Prince keeps shaking you off, doesn’t he? You never actually know what he’s doing.
You can only guess why the lake turned out like that just now.
He’s getting pretty good at avoiding you, don’t you think?”
Jun stayed silent for a while—perhaps because she had hit the mark.
Sillia continued confidently,
“I’m saying I’ll save you the trouble of tailing him.
I can even tell you what happened today, if you want.”
“How am I supposed to trust you?”
“I’m just trying to earn some points with Her Highness, the Crown Princess.
That make it more believable?
I’ve got to keep my connections open, you know.”
Sillia added casually,
“When you need to, you can watch him yourself.
Other times, leave it to me.
And if I bring in really useful information, I’d like a little reward for it.”
“That’s an overstep.”
“I’m not asking for much.
You can decide case by case—if you don’t want to pay, don’t.
So? You in or not?”
Sillia stood still, waiting for an answer.
After a short pause, Jun gave a hesitant, half-hearted reply.
“…I won’t trust you completely. And also—”
He sighed softly.
“If you’re going to keep accompanying His Highness, stop talking to him about magic.
Keep him away from it.”
“And who are you to tell me that?”
“You’ll regret it.”
“Guess we’ll see about that.”
Jun glared at her in warning, then melted back into the darkness.
Sillia tilted her head and thought.
‘If that keeps the Prince’s tail from following him so closely, all the better.’
As for what she did with the Prince—she could mix truth and lies however she liked.
And if the Prince ever changed his mind, she could simply hand over the truth to the Crown Princess.
“This should settle my debt.”
Thinking of the boy who had stepped forward in her place before the wraith, she felt a strange lump in her throat.
Even if his intentions hadn’t been pure, still—
She was just doing what she could for him now.
At least this way, he might get a break from that suffocating surveillance.
Shaking her head, Sillia began walking toward the Diamand estate.
The night air was damp and cool against her soaked clothes, but not cold enough to make her shiver.
“At least I won’t end up bedridden with a cold after all this.”
In the end, that prediction was only half right.
“…Cough.”
Drip.
Blood trickled from her lips, and Sillia quickly pressed a handkerchief against her mouth.
Luckily, the Diamand crest on the dark fabric hid the blood well enough.
‘Damn it.’
Ahead, on a raised platform, the Academy’s headmaster was beginning his welcome speech to the new transfer students.
“And so, the path we are to walk from now on…”
Two days had passed since the orientation.
Today was the small-scale entrance ceremony for transfer students.
Calling it a ceremony was generous—it was little more than an afternoon tea party.
There weren’t many transfers to begin with, so only a few noble families were invited.
Attendance was mandatory, though.
The headmaster’s voice continued to drone on.
“Since the founding of the kingdom…”
The transfer students’ eyes shone as they listened.
That attention was the only thing keeping others from noticing Sillia’s condition.
But things weren’t looking good.
‘Of all times…’
“What’s wrong?”
Julyn, standing beside her, asked softly.
Sillia shook her head and glanced around—searching for the instructors from the magic division.
She wasn’t sure if they could be trusted, but still—it was good to know their positions.
‘In case I lose control.’
Mana overflow. She’d seen it before—in the underground prison of the city guard.
Her body hadn’t felt right since morning.
Unlike usual, she felt weak and exhausted.
Her hands trembled slightly as she held a cup, and she’d even dropped things once or twice.
Maybe she’d simply overworked herself—she’d been pushing through endless days since arriving in the capital.
Still, she thought she could manage a short ceremony.
That changed the moment she stepped into the hall.
“….”
Thud.
Something inside her chest crashed violently—impossible to ignore.
The next moment, the metallic tang of blood filled her mouth.
The back of her hand burned beneath her glove.
And then she knew for sure.
‘Saving the Prince is going to be the death of me, isn’t it?’
She had used mana recklessly in that sealed vault to save Krondel—
in a place where mana flow was heavily restricted.
And it had been violent.
That ordeal had expanded her mana circuit capacity slightly, but she’d forgotten one thing:
the mana she used then wasn’t her usual red—
it had been silver.
She hadn’t expected the side effects to surface this late.
Anyone else might have gone berserk and died right there.
She’d only survived thanks to the power Ilrod had passed on to her.
“Jul—”
Just as she began to call Julyn to explain, blood welled up again.
Julyn, who had leaned in, went pale when she saw it.
“You—”
“Don’t say anything. No one can know.
If they see me weak, I’m done for.”
At her words, Julyn glanced toward Phillips and the other nobles watching from afar.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Should I call a healer—”
“As long as I have time to control it, I’ll be fine.”
“So you just need time?”
“Exactly.”
“Then I’ll buy it for you.”
“How could yo—”
Thud!
Suddenly, Julyn convulsed and collapsed.
The act was so sudden and realistic that even Sillia was caught off guard.
Screams erupted all around.
“A student’s fainted!”
“Someone, help!”
Julyn winked at her from the floor.
Sillia almost laughed—it was too convincing.
Still, she couldn’t waste the chance.
While everyone’s attention turned toward the commotion, she slipped out of the hall.
She just needed a few minutes—just enough time to suppress it.
“…Ugh.”
The taste of blood surged again.
Her hatred for Ilrod boiled up.
‘When I find you, I’ll rip out every last hair on your head, you bastard.’
She leaned against a wall in the corridor, closing her eyes to steady herself.
Then—she heard cautious footsteps approaching.
She couldn’t open her eyes; the dizziness was too much.
Clink.
A faint metallic sound. Odd—metal wasn’t allowed here.
Someone muttered softly.
A voice she felt she’d heard before.
“…Because you saved me.”
‘What?’
Before she could respond, her vision dimmed completely.
She must have lost consciousness for a moment.
When she came to, two figures were holding her hands—
a pink-haired woman and a man with pale blue hair.
“Oh, she’s awake.”
“Impressive. A normal mage would’ve died before it even got this far.”
“As expected—she’s better than I heard.”
“Right? She’ll make a great experim— I mean, colleague.”
“…Who are you people?”
Her voice came out rough, but she didn’t attack; she could tell instinctively that they were helping her.
The pink-haired woman smiled and motioned to someone beside her.
Sillia turned her head and froze.
“You? What are you doing out here?”
It was the Scarecrow Sorcerer—the one she’d seen imprisoned underground.
Thin restraints gleamed faintly around his wrists and ankles.
That must have been the source of the metallic sound.
“I just borrowed your idea. You told Riman to smuggle me out, didn’t you?”
Another voice interjected smoothly—too polished, with a faintly cultish cadence.
“The Tower is always short on hands, you see.
It’s far more useful to put someone like him to work as a researcher—with proper magical seals—than to leave him rotting in a cell.”
The scarecrow-looking man grimaced.
Sillia, too, looked unimpressed.
“…Tower Lord.”
The Tower Lord, Akla, stood there.
The slip of paper Sillia had kept in her pocket fluttered into his hand.
“You kept it all this time. Thanks to that, you were easy to find.”
It was the note he had inscribed with magic himself during the transfer exam,
telling her to bring it to him anytime.
“I came to congratulate you on joining the Academy’s Magic Division.
It seems we’re both lucky—you and I.”
Then his smooth, beguiling voice whispered, almost temptingly:
“This time… won’t you come to the Tower?”
