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Chapter 6
How did something like this happen?
Kalia stared at Shymon through the window and thought vaguely.
‘To think that a child of mine and Shymon’s would be growing in my belly.’
Seriously… how did this even happen?
What exactly went wrong that day?
‘…Alcohol?’
No. Alcohol wasn’t the problem.
How many times had the two of them shared drinks before?
‘Then was it Derek’s strange scroll after all?’
Thinking that, she snorted and shook her head.
She was a Swordmaster, yet blaming a scroll? What a foolish excuse.
It wasn’t the alcohol, nor the scroll.
In the end, the problem with everything… was Kalia herself that day.
Yes. The Kalia of that day.
“…Why am I trying to blame something now?”
Feeling slightly embarrassed, Kalia rubbed her forehead and recalled that day.
* * *
That day had been a small victory celebration party.
Over the past seven years, the Empire had fought countless wars and achieved numerous victories.
And Kalia had played an enormous role in that history of victories. Thanks to her, the Empire had entered a period of stability.
The Battle of the Mahatari Sea had occurred when a foolish foreign pirate fleet dared to raid one of the Empire’s island territories. It was the first battle in a year since the declaration of peace.
As always, the Emperor had opened the main palace to host a party for her.
That night, Kalia had been in such a good mood that she drank a little too much.
Every time someone raised a glass, she accepted without hesitation.
Soon she became pleasantly drunk.
Shymon, who had been watching her from afar, finally pulled her away to the garden when the party reached its peak.
“Why are you drinking so much today? Take it easy, Kalia.”
“Hmm. I’d like to, but I’m in such a good mood.”
Kalia said this with a loose smile.
Shymon, who had dragged her outside, didn’t look pleased at all.
Strangely enough, when she smiled, his expression became even worse.
“….”
He stared at her silently, clenched and unclenched his fist, then turned his head and muttered quietly,
“Damn it.”
A little tipsy, Kalia teased him playfully.
“Hey now. Saying ‘damn it’? That’s disrespectful to the Commander-in-Chief, Shymon.”
“Shut up, Kalia. My rank isn’t exactly lower than yours.”
Shymon muttered harshly, but the hand that placed a cold glass of water into hers wasn’t harsh at all.
As he gently opened her rough, calloused fingers and placed the cup inside them, his own hands looked unusually white and clean.
Kalia glanced at his neatly trimmed fingernails and chuckled.
Seriously, what an incomprehensible guy.
When had he even prepared something like this?
He seemed kind, yet his words were always curt.
He often looked angry, but sometimes he would laugh at the most absurd moments.
“What a strange guy.”
Kalia gulped down the water he gave her and began walking while holding the empty glass.
Shymon snatched the glass from her hand and muttered,
“If I’m strange, then you’re annoying.”
He balanced the glass on his palm, raised mana, and broke it down into particles smaller than dust before scattering them onto the ground.
Using such a high-level skill just to dispose of a glass…
What a waste of magic.
Kalia shook her head and wandered toward the garden, still feeling slightly lightheaded.
Shymon grabbed her wrist.
As always, he spoke indifferently, sounding slightly irritated.
“Come with me. I’ve got something for you.”
“Something for me?”
“It’s your birthday today.”
Birthday?
“…Ah, my birthday!”
Kalia broke into a dimpled smile when she realized what he meant.
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t her real birthday.
It was the day she had entered the Duke of Terloang’s household when she was six years old.
Yet Shymon stubbornly called that day her birthday.
And for more than twenty years, he had faithfully celebrated this fake birthday that no one else knew about.
He’s really diligent about the strangest things.
Shymon brought her into the Magic Tower.
The tower stood not far from the main palace.
Ordinary mages lived in the second western palace and commuted to the tower, while master-level mages used one entire floor as both their laboratory and residence.
Technically, master-level mages held ranks equivalent to viscounts, so they also owned mansions in the capital.
But most of them were so obsessed with research and magic that they rarely used those houses.
Shymon, who had already become a master mage at twenty, was no different.
Three years ago, he had claimed the very top floor of the Magic Tower.
He had built a small garden on the rooftop and constructed another floor above it, turning it into a two-story private residence.
No one dared complain about him occupying such a large space.
After all—
he was an Archmage.
In nearly a century, no one had displayed talent as remarkable as his.
He had also inherited all the magical power of his grandmother, a forest elf.
It was unfair how exceptional he was.
Because of that, he was someone who received both immense jealousy and immense admiration.
Kalia, still slightly drunk, opened the small box Shymon handed her.
Inside were four magic scrolls that looked extremely expensive.
“…Scrolls again?”
It was the same gift every year.
Magic scrolls.
Ever since he began walking the path of magic and learned to create scrolls, that had always been his gift.
Kalia laughed at his consistency.
He really was diligent in strange ways.
Because she was drunk, she laughed a little more than usual without realizing it.
Meanwhile, the man standing before her was nearly losing his mind because she kept smiling at him.
Shymon’s golden eyes stared at Kalia, who was smiling carelessly, completely unaware of the dangerous feelings inside him.
His gaze was persistent, as if trying to examine every single eyelash of hers.
But Kalia—who always left her sense of awareness on the battlefield—didn’t notice at all.
…So unbelievably dense.
“Hm? What did you say?”
“Nothing. Anyway—this one erases the trace of the caster. Within a 20-kilometer radius, you can’t be tracked by magic or even tracking hounds.”
As usual, Shymon ignored his own feelings and spoke casually.
He was never one to rush.
It was the slightly arrogant behavior of someone who believed everything was within his grasp.
Not realizing that arrogance would make him shed tears of blood later.
His cool fingertips pointed at each scroll as he explained.
“And this is a teleportation scroll. If you have coordinates, you can travel up to 100 kilometers. And this green one is a healing scroll. Honestly, it’s the most expensive one here. It uses both mana and divine power from the temple. It detoxifies poison and cures illness within a 10-kilometer radius. Even most injuries can be recovered.”
Kalia stared silently at the scrolls he described.
These were the kind of scrolls only the imperial family should possess.
Shymon had given her many scrolls before, but never ones with such a large range.
At first she accepted them lightly, but as his explanation continued, she started to worry.
…Did he steal these from the imperial treasury?
As if reading her suspicious look, one of Shymon’s elegant eyebrows twitched upward.
He spoke bluntly.
“I made them myself. Handmade.”
“….”
“Made by an Archmage.”
Shymon tapped his chest proudly with his finger and lifted his chin arrogantly.
Even that arrogant attitude suited his dazzling appearance annoyingly well.
Kalia suddenly remembered overhearing noble ladies once describing him as:
“A cynical, indifferent yet sensitive man overflowing with sensual charm.”
She had almost thrown the cookie she was eating when she heard that.
Not wanting to deal with Shymon anymore, Kalia quickly pointed to the last scroll.
“Oh, I know this one. It calls you, right?”
“Correct.”
Shymon smiled as if praising her.
His long lashes cast deep shadows as his eyes narrowed.
The golden irises inside glimmered softly in the light.
Even the slight curve of his red lips made his smile look like a painting.
Yes, she admitted it.
Her childhood friend was a man—
yet unbelievably beautiful.
“This one has no range limit. Just tear it and call my name. Even if you’re on the opposite side of this continent.”
Shymon stepped closer while looking straight into her eyes.
Then he reached out and lightly brushed her soft cheek with his fingertips, whispering,
“…I’ll find you, Kalia.”
For some reason, Kalia felt a strange tickling sensation throughout her body.
Shymon had touched her cheek, yet her waist twitched instead.
She didn’t understand why.
But it felt strange.
Anyway… why did he touch her cheek?
Was something on it?
“Was something on my face? Just tell me.”
Kalia rubbed the cheek he had touched and slapped his hand away.
She rubbed her cheek so hard that it turned red.
Seeing that, Shymon’s expression froze.
After staring at her flushed cheek for a while, he sighed.
“Idiot.”
…What’s that supposed to mean?
Kalia frowned, bewildered.
But Shymon shook his head as if he couldn’t understand her even more.
“Forget it. I’m the idiot for expecting anything from you. A complete idiot. Honestly, how is this any different from asking a passing brick if it understands death? I’ve been giving you hints for over five years—consistently—and you still don’t get it. General Kalia, the simple and ignorant warrior who only understands swords and war. Whatever. Forget it. I’m getting angry again.”
…Hey, Shymon. That’s a bit harsh.
Kalia glared at him in confusion but didn’t argue.
After all, she could never win against Shymon.
In fact, no one in the world could stop that lunatic.
If she tried to argue, he would bombard her with incomprehensible words she couldn’t understand.
“Hmm.”
When Shymon got worked up like that, it was best not to bother him.
She should avoid him for now.
While he angrily ran his fingers through his hair, Kalia quietly wandered around his laboratory.
He needed time to calm down.
What’s this?
While walking, she happened to notice a large pile of scrolls stacked nearby.
Usually she had no interest in scrolls.
But picking one up out of curiosity—
turned out to be a mistake.
