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Chapter 67
Tap, tap.
Cillia ran down the corridor.
If her eyes weren’t deceiving her…
“Why the hell is he here?”
It was definitely Illod.
Or more precisely, the Illod she’d seen in the very first vision — the one lying there with tubes plugged into his body in that strange, unknown world.
As she turned the corner of the hallway, she saw him in the distance.
“Hey!”
When she shouted, the boy turned around — his face full of fear. Looking closely, he seemed much younger than the Illod she knew.
“Don’t take me away, nurse!”
The moment Cillia ran up to grab him—her arm passed straight through him, as if his body were made of mist.
“Please…”
With that faint plea, the boy’s image faded away.
“……”
Cillia stood frozen, scanning the surroundings.
Am I losing my mind?
She needed to catch Illod, yet every time she reached him, he slipped through her hands. It was beginning to feel like she was dreaming. She took a few deep breaths.
Then, from the opposite corner, he appeared again. This time, he wore different clothes, and seemed to be talking to someone.
“That exam was tough.”
What stood out was that he wasn’t speaking the language of this world.
That must be the “foreign language” others said they’d heard. Yet, somehow, Cillia understood every word.
Probably because I inherited his ability, she thought.
The voices continued.
“It was harder than the last one.”
“…”
“Just me? Haha… maybe. I’ve been stuck in the hospital all this time, after all…”
“…”
“…Yeah. I’ll stop trying to be friendly.”
And then his figure faded away again.
Cillia’s eyes hardened as she stared at the spot where he’d vanished—when suddenly, something tapped her shoulder.
“Why so jumpy?”
“Would’ve been fun if you’d screamed louder.”
“You’ve got terrible taste.”
“Dragons do have terrible taste by nature.”
Coiling his tail, Yotun perched on her shoulder, speaking lazily.
“I’ve finished looking around the mansion.”
“So that’s why you said you were going sightseeing.”
“You said it was bought cheap, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Now I can see why. They said they found traces of a magical ritual — looked like something had been sealed here once. After that seal broke, weird things started happening.”
“Hmm. Then that ritual must’ve been suppressing the mansion’s current state. A temporary fix, I’d say.”
“Temporary?”
“Phenomena like this are hard to erase through normal means.”
Yotun pointed toward a nearby room — one still empty and undecorated.
Without hesitation, Cillia opened the door and stepped in.
In the corner of the room, a small crack shimmered.
The air around it wavered, pulling everything nearby toward it.
“That it?”
“As expected, your eyes see well.”
They both approached. Cillia murmured softly,
“Looks like I could just patch it up.”
“Or we could just move out instead. Cracks like that are—”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“It’s something related to another world, right? A reflection of that world showing up here.”
“Surprisingly accurate. Those are fractures formed between different worlds.”
“I figured.”
Ever since she’d seen Illod’s figure from the other world, she’d suspected as much.
He was never someone from here to begin with.
He’d died in another world and awakened in this one as Illod.
The repeated glimpses of his other self had to be connected to this.
Yotun added,
“And when a rift between worlds grows, monsters come through. You’d be better off relocating—seal the area and leave.”
Cillia shook her head after glancing around.
“I’m not moving.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to make Father wander again.”
This place was the home her father had finally managed to secure.
Sure, they could afford to buy another house, but—
“He’s only just begun to grow attached to this place. Taking it away would break his heart.”
“Hmm.”
She remembered how, during meals, he’d look around the house fondly, describing in detail how he was fixing it up. She’d seen that same look in his eyes long ago—back when he had to sell their old home.
That rundown mansion might have seemed shabby to others, but to her and her father, it had been precious.
The peeling walls, the cracked railing she’d used as a slide, the broken plates she’d played with, dancing with her father under a leaking ceiling while it rained—
A house was a home because of the memories within it.
And now, this mansion was finally becoming that kind of home again for her father. She couldn’t take it away from him.
“Besides, if rumors spread that we moved because the house was cursed, people will talk. They’ll say Baron Bronew ran away from a curse, that he couldn’t handle it. Even in the capital, they’ll whisper.”
Yotun replied calmly,
“Mending a rift between worlds isn’t simple. To close it, you need something from that world.”
“Ah, something from another world, huh?”
Cillia studied the crack carefully, then stepped forward.
“Hey, don’t just rush in! It’s dangerous!”
“Relax. My mana’s unstable, but that’s why you’re going to help me, right?”
She spoke so casually that Yotun blinked. Then, with a sigh, he reached out his tail and lightly touched the back of her neck.
The two conflicting mana flows inside her immediately aligned, stabilized by his intervention.
“You really are a dragon.”
Cillia reached out her hand, halting the swirling air. The rift’s shape became clear.
Though a strong repelling force pushed her back, she didn’t stop.
“Careful!” Yotun cried.
Cillia drew her mana out.
It flowed sluggishly, taking shape—a small fragment exactly matching the rift’s outline.
It was only the size of a fingertip, but it contained every bit of mana she could muster. Her body trembled from the drain; she would have collapsed if Yotun hadn’t steadied her mana.
“That won’t work!”
“It will.”
Because—
Illod was from another world.
And her mana came from his.
Red and silver light twisted together violently as the shard formed.
Cillia bit her lip, pressed the mana piece into the rift—
Crack.
The sound echoed as it locked perfectly into place.
Now, which spell works best for this…
She knew one — not powerful, but practical. A restoration spell she’d mastered out of necessity.
Magic circles of restoration began to draw themselves in the air.
The edges of the rift slowly sealed.
Yotun narrowed his eyes as muffled voices seeped from beyond the closing gap. Illod’s voice.
“Another hospitalization?”
“I’m so sick of this.”
“I’m sick of barely surviving like this…”
Craack.
Then silence. The rift sealed completely. Only the chill of the wind outside filled the quiet.
Cillia staggered but stayed on her feet.
“You actually did it,” Yotun said in disbelief.
She gave a weak laugh.
“You, a dragon, surprised by this?”
“Not surprised—exhausted. You throw yourself into danger far too easily.”
“But I succeeded.”
“If it hadn’t worked, the rift would’ve devoured you. Even what you just did—pulling out that much mana—was reckless. Your mana circuits are incomplete.”
“I only tried because you were helping. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have…”
She trailed off, eyes landing on the broken sword—Periot.
Staring at the fractured gap between the blades, she suddenly felt like she knew how to fix it.
“Yotun, since we’re at it, lend me your strength once more.”
“Hmm…”
“Come on. Just once.”
“Fine. Consider it a reward for amusing me.”
Yotun touched her neck again with his tail.
Whuum.
Mana gathered at her fingertips, shaping into another shard that fit perfectly into the sword’s crack.
Having just done it once, she found it easier this time.
Shhhk.
The fragment melted into the sword, filling the fracture.
A soft white glow enveloped the now-whole blade, like it was rejoicing.
“Perfect.”
Cillia smiled, satisfied—
“Cillia! Listen!”
The door burst open and three people rushed in — Flier, Margaret, and Julin.
“There was some ghost commotion just now—”
They all stopped mid-sentence upon seeing Yotun floating in the air.
“That lizard from earlier…?” Margaret stammered.
Cillia shot Yotun a reproachful glare.
The next day, on their way back to the Count’s estate, Flier laughed awkwardly.
“A guardian dragon… I’m still shocked.”
For now, they’d agreed to keep Yotun’s existence secret among only those who’d witnessed it.
“Feels like more and more unbelievable people keep showing up lately.”
That probably included the Second Prince, too.
Cillia felt a twinge of guilt — the Diamant family, who only wanted royal favor, had now become part of the most troublesome faction in the court.
I didn’t mean for it to go that far…
She sighed — and then—
Skrrrch!
The carriage suddenly screeched to a halt, followed by a dull thud.
“What the—?”
Julin leaned out the window and caught something flapping at the wheels — a pigeon with a sealed scroll tied to its leg.
Not a living bird, but a magical messenger construct.
“Those are expensive, aren’t they?”
“Costly, yes. But worth it.”
Julin unrolled the message — his expression darkened immediately.
“What’s wrong?” Cillia asked.
He glanced around, hesitating, then met her eyes.
“Cillia… About those disappearances — we found another clue.”
