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Chapter 47
“…Ugh.”
Collapsing onto the carpet, Krondel let out a low groan. A searing sensation burned across the back of his hand.
He’d known that the mana circuit was there, buried deep within him, but he had never dared to open it. Now, it was as if every nerve in his body was being scorched alive.
“Why…?”
“Krondel.”
The voice that reached him was both familiar and achingly nostalgic—one he couldn’t make sense of.
The air was hot, thick with the scent of smoke and gunpowder. Through the haze, someone gently brushed a hand across his young face. It was a soft, comforting touch.
“Krondel. It’s all right. Just breathe.”
“……”
“It’s not your fault.”
The smell of dust and ashes filled the air. A corner of the building had collapsed, smoke rising through the cracks. Even the ceiling had gaping holes for reasons he couldn’t recall. Why? Why was this happening? He didn’t remember this at all.
‘No… it did happen. I just never realized it.’
No—he had sealed those memories away. He was the one who had destroyed it. He was the one who had hurt people…
As fragments of memory came flooding back, that same gentle voice spoke once more.
“Don’t be afraid of magic. You must face it. You must find a way.”
“Ugh!”
Before the memory could continue, a sharp, stabbing pain pierced his temple like a needle. It was agony beyond comprehension. The back of his hand was now numb, devoid of sensation.
“…The reason.”
Through fading consciousness, Krondel muttered,
“I want to know the reason.”
His gaze drifted toward the desk. There lay a stack of documents stamped with the seal of the Forbidden Archive.
“Sil…”
Before he could even speak the name, his vision blurred—and the world went dark.
“Your Highness.”
Cecilia quickly composed herself, heart still racing.
“Please, call me Marcella,” the young princess said with a bright smile.
“I wouldn’t dare,” Cecilia replied politely.
The little princess—Marcella—had somehow slipped in unnoticed, standing right there among the shelves Cecilia had been searching through.
“Well, this is quite the coincidence,” Cecilia said calmly.
“Of course, it’s not a coincidence,” Marcella replied with a knowing grin.
“I heard that the Tower Master submitted a request to the royal archives for secret access, and that you were the one granted entry.”
“For someone so young, Your Highness is remarkably shrewd.”
“It’s nothing extraordinary.”
Marcella giggled, her eyes sparkling with admiration. The pure enthusiasm in her gaze was almost disarming—partly endearing, partly burdensome.
“You’re curious about the inner section of the archives, aren’t you?”
The princess hit the mark with surprising accuracy. Cecilia smiled wryly.
“I didn’t think I was that easy to read.”
“Everyone who comes here wants the underground levels more than the surface ones. You’re no different.”
Marcella stuck out her tongue playfully.
“I can help you. Actually, that’s why I’m here—to help. I’d appreciate it if you accepted.”
In truth, Cecilia should have been the one expressing gratitude.
Maintaining a gentle smile, she studied the young princess carefully, trying to discern what she hoped to gain. Marcella soon pouted.
“I know what you’re thinking! But this isn’t about politics or calculation. It’s a genuine favor!”
“A favor?”
“I like you, Lady Cecilia.”
Marcella’s eyes gleamed. The warmth and sincerity in them were strikingly similar to her half-brother’s—Krondel’s.
“Ever since you appeared, my brother has become… fun again. He used to just avoid everything, dragging his feet about every little thing.”
“Dragging his feet?”
That didn’t sound like Krondel at all. Marcella prattled on.
“He was always too cautious. Cheerful, yes, but never the type to act first. But now, after meeting you, he’s been taking initiative! It’s exciting to watch.”
That could be a dangerous remark. Krondel’s recent assertiveness might affect the royal power struggle—but for a princess far removed from succession, it was nothing more than entertaining drama.
“I like the Crown Princess, of course, but I also care about my second brother. Ideally, they wouldn’t fight. But if that’s not possible, someone has to keep things from going too far, right?”
Marcella tilted her chin proudly. Cecilia chuckled softly.
“You intend to be that mediator, Your Highness—balancing both sides without bias. A difficult role, indeed.”
“Someone has to. Otherwise, no one will.”
Marcella sighed, though she looked rather proud of herself. Cecilia teased,
“But helping me right now seems quite one-sided, doesn’t it?”
After all, aiding Cecilia meant siding with Krondel. Marcella lifted her chin defiantly.
“Yes, it’s biased—but until now, everything has been biased against him. I’m just restoring balance. And besides, I owe you.”
“Owe me?”
“You helped me see people clearly again.”
Marcella stuck out her tongue, and Cecilia immediately recalled Ingram—the man she had sent flying with a single gust of her magic.
“I can’t stand people who only know how to talk.”
So the engagement had indeed been called off. Cecilia nodded as Marcella moved ahead.
“We can’t go in together. I’ll buy you time outside—deal with the royal mages and guards.”
“I’m indebted to you, then.”
“No, I should be thanking you.”
Marcella grinned.
“Maybe my brother will finally look good in front of you after this.”
“Then I’ll be sure to treat him to a special service next time,” Cecilia replied lightly.
Marcella pulled something from her pocket—a set of ornate keys that only royals possessed. She sorted through them quickly and unlocked a heavy door hidden between the shelves.
“You won’t have much time.”
“I won’t need long.”
With that, Cecilia darted through the doorway.
Each floor was inscribed with complex magical seals. Once she activated her mana circuit, glowing lines of script appeared—records of forbidden magic.
A graveyard of spells.
“Body modification magic… no. Mental torture magic… also no.”
She descended a few more steps until she finally found what she sought.
“Beast-utilization magic.”
The chamber wasn’t large, much smaller than others she’d seen, likely because there weren’t many spells of this kind.
“Not surprising—magical beasts don’t appear often.”
That worked in her favor. Pulling out the list Marin had given her, she quickly identified several relevant tomes. Some were damaged, others missing pages entirely. Then—something caught her eye.
“This…”
An illustration—a black shard, exactly like the one the scarecrow sorcerer had shown her. Its shape was strikingly similar to a human heart.
Not the Heart of the Earth… but close.
Her pulse quickened as she read the text beside it. Much of it was smeared or torn, but she focused on what was still legible.
“Of living beings… in exchange for… through experiment… byproduct… crystals and refined blood result.”
“Crystals?”
Cecilia checked again. The drawing clearly depicted the black fragment she had seen before.
Beside it was the same dark liquid—the blood of a magical beast, shimmering like a night sky.
Her expression hardened as she turned the page. This section was in slightly better condition.
“With refined blood, one can… raise…”
“Raise what?”
A magical beast, as the Tower Master had suggested? A chill ran down her spine. The deeper she read, the stronger the dread grew. She turned instead to the record ledgers at the front—where every book borrowed or removed was meticulously listed.
“The Tower Master said this couldn’t be erased…”
According to him, anyone could read materials inside, but removing or copying them without logging the act would trigger the library’s protective spell. Even false names wouldn’t work.
So whoever leaked the refining method must have left a record.
“……”
As she examined the entries from around the time of the Tower incident, her hand froze. A single name stood out.
“…Ahaim.”
The royal family’s surname.
The first name had been deliberately erased, leaving only the family name behind—multiple times, at that.
The most recent erasure caught her eye.
Between the blackened letters, she thought she saw the faint trace of Krondel’s name.
A man lay on an ornate bed, chest rising and falling weakly. His shallow breaths filled the quiet room.
Knock, knock.
“Your Highness,” a servant said, bowing deeply.
“His Majesty the King has received guests.”
The figure sitting beside the bed rose slowly, voice cold as frost.
“I told you—no one is to disturb His Majesty, regardless of who they are.”
At that moment, several nobles entered behind the servant. The man at the front wore a mask that concealed his face.
“Your Royal Highness,” he said sternly.
“Do you intend to isolate His Majesty under the pretext of illness?”
Princess Marguerite Ahaim, the Crown Princess, fixed him with a chilling stare.
“Your opinions do not concern me, Duke Ilaca. Leave at once.”
Duke Ilaca Heinz turned away, his expression strained.
