THTE 58

Chapter 58

The children’s testimonies kept circling in his head.

‘That boy… it seems this wasn’t the first or second time he bullied and tormented the other kids just because he was a mage.’

And the teachers, even knowing about it, had left it unchecked.

As soon as his thoughts reached that point, Magia remembered another issue.

‘When the cat came to my lab…’

When Nibelia had first come to the kindergarten, back then too the teachers had lost track of her.

That time, Magia had personally found and protected her, so he hadn’t made a big deal out of it.

But looking back now, it wasn’t something to brush aside so lightly.

“……”

Magia cast a glance at Armiphera.

Understanding his intent, Armiphera nodded with a cheerful smile.

“Hello, kids!”

Then she stepped into the kindergarten classroom.

“My name is Phera. I am the Mercenary King from faraway western Latro! And this adorable little kitten is Ater, the Mercenary King’s friend!”

With practiced ease, Armiphera took care of the remaining children in the kindergarten.

Soon, a wave of cheers burst out from the children.

There couldn’t be a more perfect guardian for children than the Mercenary King.

‘As expected of my sparkling soda.’

The daughter from another family who erased his worries so perfectly.

The girl who bit down deliciously on the lungs of the Paladin he hated most.

Thanks to Armiphera, Magia could now freely have a serious conversation with the kindergarten teachers.

“Mom told me to give this honey lump to Grandpa.”

“This one was made by grinding Ater’s scales. The Great Witch herself crafted it. Our family all ate one each.”

“Mm, maybe Aunt Della and Uncle Monatos, and…”

Magia rolled his tongue, chasing the sour flavor of the fruit that was fading from his mouth.

He needed something to anchor his mind.

Alec was summoned to the Tower Master’s chambers immediately after receiving treatment.

The Tower Master’s chambers he revered—specifically the guest reception room, which only opened for the most esteemed visitors.

But Alec felt no joy at all.

The expensive leather sofa was softer and cozier than any plush fur.

But to Alec, it was no different than a torture chair with iron chains locking his limbs down.

The Tower Master sitting before him never smiled once.

“……”

He only stared at Alec without a word.

That alone was enough to bring Alec to the verge of tears.

“Alec.”

Just when Alec was about to cry for real, Magia finally spoke.

“Would you like something to eat?”

“I-I’m fine…”

“No, no. Children need to eat well to grow well.”

Magia pulled a bundle of snacks from his cloak pocket—summer-fruit-flavored candies and chocolate filled with jam.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, a glass of chilled milk appeared from somewhere.

“I didn’t call you here to scold you. I just have a few things to ask.”

“Q-questions?”

“Yes.”

Only then did Alec relax a little, popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth.

It melted smoothly, releasing apple jam inside. A faint kick of cinnamon gave it a sharp but exquisite taste.

“Delicious, isn’t it?”

“Yes!”

Magia grinned broadly.

“Do you know who made that chocolate?”

“Wasn’t it you, Tower Master?”

“Well, of course I’m good at everything. But tell me, how are your parents?”

“They’re doing well!”

Alec answered brightly, slipping another piece of chocolate into his mouth.

His family—all mages. Grandparents, parents, and now him.

‘A lineage of mages is truly rare.’

His grandparents had fought alongside Magia forty years ago, comrades in the Crepatna War.

‘But not these two.’

All the comrades who had fought in that war were strong-willed individuals with unique quirks.

But after the war, one miraculous common rule arose among them:

‘Never lay a hand on the Saint.’

There wasn’t a single elder who didn’t know Nibelia was the Saint’s granddaughter.

She so strongly resembled Muniel—how could they not see it?

One elder who once sneaked a glance at Nibelia in kindergarten had been tormented for days, remembering how the Saint herself had beaten him during the war.

‘So, which of those two—his father or mother—planted such rotten ideas in this child already?’

“My father praises me every day.”

“Does he now?”

Magia smiled.

“He tells me I’m remarkable! He says it’s hard for mages to pass the craft down through generations, but thanks to me, our family became a mage household from birth. He’s so proud.”

“I see.”

The more innocently Alec spoke, the deeper Magia’s smile grew.

“I think the same as my father. Honestly, mages are strong enough to rule the world…!”

“Alec.”

Magia’s smile vanished.

“Earlier, I asked who made that chocolate.”

“Uh…”

Alec hesitated, startled by the sudden shift in mood.

“Do you know who made it?”

“…I don’t know.”

“It was made by the owner of a very famous dessert shop.”

That person was not a mage.

Magia pointed at the half-empty glass of milk.

“And this milk? And the glass it’s in?”

“……”

“The milk came from farmers raising cows in Capra. The glass was made by a craftsman of the Iarlu workshop.”

Again, neither were mages.

“The sofa you’re sitting on wasn’t made by a mage, either.”

“……”

“The clothes you and I are wearing were made by non-mages too. In fact, the only thing in this room made by a mage is that crystal ball on the desk, perhaps?”

Or maybe there was something he didn’t know.

Stroking his chin as if thinking it over, Magia glanced sidelong.

Alec’s face flushed red with shame—he understood exactly why Magia was saying this.

Magia moved to sit beside him.

“Alec Enerca.”

But Alec couldn’t answer.

“Mages are indeed strong. And I am strong enough to rule the world.”

So why didn’t he rule it?

The answer was simple.

“Because the world is far too complex and difficult to live in with only mages.”

If they tried to farm, the plants would all wither and die.

Clumsy at sewing, they’d freeze to death in winter wrapped in scraps of cloth.

They wouldn’t craft beautiful glassware, nor compose delightful tales or enchanting music. Their sense of beauty would wither away.

Mages without culture—just the thought made his skin crawl, so he exaggerated a shiver.

“And there are people stronger than mages.”

“Wh-who?”

“The Saint.”

Forty years ago—

The monstrous Saint who ended the grueling war, soaked in the blood of both monsters and men.

More monstrous than any monster herself.

“…And the Mercenary King is strong too.”

He wanted to add that even Alec’s great father was no match for the Mercenary King, but he stopped there.

“So never discriminate against people based on whether they can use magic or not.”

Magia spoke earnestly.

“Because doing so is a cruel act that will only leave you isolated.”

It was heartfelt advice from a foolish senior mage who, once arrogant, had been condemned to nearly 200 years of living without death.

Fortunately, Magia’s sincerity reached Alec.

“In truth, earlier my friends told me I was acting badly. That I shouldn’t say things like that.”

He remembered the friends who stood up to shield Nibelia.

Honestly, he had been scared and shocked. And ashamed too.

Alec promised Magia he would never think that way again.

He also said he would apologize to Nibelia.

But today’s events would still be reported to both families.

After all, the children had fought, and their parents needed to know. A child’s character was the result of family upbringing.

And the Tower Kindergarten posted a new job notice—this time, seeking a non-mage teacher.

“…And that is what happened today at the Tower,”

Detter, who had brought Nibelia and Aref back, conveyed the situation he’d heard from the Tower Master to Kaleo.

In Kaleo’s hand was a letter written by Magia himself.

Its contents were simple:

[Your daughter’s punches are no joke.]

That was the gist.

“Nini won!”

And Nibelia herself proudly boasted of her victory.

Of course, she added an excuse.

“Nini didn’t want to fight. Really.”

Clasping her hands together like in prayer, she fluttered her eyelids as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

“Please believe meee!”

“…And where did you learn that?”

Kaleo nearly fainted at this never-before-seen display of cuteness from his daughter.

But she was too adorable, so he let it slide.

“So, did you make up with that friend?”

“He’s not a friend. And he came first to say he was wrong. He even said he’d be my subordinate, but Nini refused…”

With a dramatic hum, Nibelia closed her eyes and shook her head firmly.

She couldn’t accept just anyone as her subordinate. Nibelia had her own standards.

“Hmm.”

Kaleo neatly folded the letter.

In the end, it was just a children’s squabble.

And the root cause was on the other side. Nibelia’s violence had its own justification.

In other words—

“My daughter.”

Coming around to the front of the desk, Kaleo spread his arms wide.

“Well done! Come here!”

“Daddy!”

Nibelia leapt into his embrace.

Kaleo showered her—her head, her forehead, both cheeks—with kisses.

“My daughter must never lose to anyone!”

“Never!”

“And if anyone picks a fight with you, you must deliver back to them the same pain, the same suffering they gave you—tenfold if needed.”

“Mm-hm!”

Nibelia nodded eagerly.

“Nini, this is why you mustn’t strike first. If you hold back once, it gives you the rightful excuse to hit back later.”

That rightful excuse was called justice.