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Chapter 14
Thought He Came to Meet Me
Through time-reversal magic, I managed to save my life—but I lost more than half of my mana in the process.
So the very first thing I did after regaining consciousness was to draw a massive magic circle over the entire second floor of Sither’s mansion, which served as my personal living space.
For both mages and aura sword users, there’s one absolute condition for reaching greatness:
Abundant mana.
No amount of talent can overcome a limited mana capacity.
Once upon a time, I was the mage with the most mana in the entire world…
‘My mana is ruined. At this rate, I’ll never recover.’
Now, I was practically a beggar.
I worked tirelessly to open mana channels within my body, doing everything I could to gather even the tiniest amount of energy—but the results were always the same.
Weeks passed, and the amount of mana I’d accumulated couldn’t even fill the bottom of a bowl.
With a long sigh, I slumped down.
‘I can still use magic, but… large-scale spells like before are impossible.’
After all that time, the only magic I could perform was a faint breeze—barely strong enough to dry my hair.
Once, people had begged me to join the empire’s civil engineering corps, claiming that with a wave of my hand I could move mountains.
Now, I couldn’t even light a candle.
Feeling hollow, I nearly melted into the floor like a slime—but I shook my head and straightened up.
‘If I keep gathering mana like this, by next week I should at least have enough for a self-defense spell or two in an emergency.’
No use dwelling on despair. What’s done is done. All I can do now is look forward, not back.
‘No time to mope. I need to find another way. I can’t live off Sither forever.’
Sither had married me because he needed a wife, nothing more.
Which meant that once that reason was gone, there would be no reason to maintain this marriage either.
I refused to be caught off guard when that day came.
I clenched my fists. Right now, the most important thing for me is independence!
‘At least I still have all my magical knowledge. I can make something of that.’
I couldn’t use my magic anymore, but the vast knowledge I’d accumulated remained perfectly intact in my mind.
‘Still, it’d be nice if I could at least use some magic.’
There were two ways to do that.
One was to use the magic circle I’d drawn to gather natural mana, and the other was to use mana stones—crystals that store condensed magical energy.
Mana is the energy that circulates through the natural world.
Sometimes, when nature undergoes extreme changes, mana condenses into physical form—and that’s how mana stones are born.
‘To think mana stones would one day become my lifeline. Life really is full of surprises.’
Truth be told, I’d never been interested in mana stones before.
They were rare and astronomically expensive—and since I’d always had more mana than I could use, I’d never imagined needing one.
‘A mana stone could give me far more energy than this circle ever could… but they’re so expensive.’
So if I wanted to keep using magic, I’d need money.
‘Problem is, how do I earn it? I’ve never made money in my life.’
All I’d ever done was magic research.
‘It’s probably smarter to make money using what I already know rather than learning a new skill.’
Magic and money.
Magic and money.
How do you even make money with magic?
I groaned and thought it over until—suddenly—it hit me.
‘What if I make and sell magical potions?’
There are potions in this world that can produce effects similar to magic.
They still have to be made by mages, but most mages focus on research and self-development rather than potion-making.
But now that I can’t use magic myself… what’s the point of researching new spells I can’t even cast?
Better to use my knowledge to make potions.
The more I thought about it, the more the idea appealed to me.
I stood up and started down the stairs—stairs I rarely used except during mealtimes.
‘I’ll need to grow ingredients, so I should check out the garden.’
Potion-making requires a variety of herbs and plants.
Luckily, the mansion had a small garden. I just needed Sither’s permission to use it.
‘These shoes are comfy. And the dress is easy to change into, too.’
As I walked down the stairs, my skirt rustled softly around my knees. It was one of the new dresses Sither had ordered for me.
Apparently, he’d been shocked to discover that I couldn’t even dress myself in the old clothes left here, so he’d bought me several easy-to-wear one-piece dresses with simple button fastenings.
Today’s choice was a cheerful light-blue dress with a white apron sewn right onto it—no ribbon-tying required.
‘Sither really is a thoughtful and considerate person. He takes good care of me.’
Diana—the one who’d forced me to marry Sither—hadn’t even bothered to send over my belongings. That’s how little she cared.
‘To think I never realized what kind of person she was until I was on my deathbed… how pathetic of me.’
Still, I was lucky. Lucky I’d been able to use time-reversal magic. Lucky I’d learned the truth before dying.
I consoled myself as I descended the last few steps.
Then I pushed open the heavy front door with a grunt—and froze.
Standing outside in the sunlight were two familiar figures.
One of them had hair blacker than night, as if it absorbed the very sunlight itself.
His tanned face, smooth cheeks, and sharp, narrow eyes exuded quiet strength.
His body, built like a black tiger, distorted the air around him with sheer magical force.
It was none other than Sither.
Whenever I stood before him, I felt as though I were facing a being entirely different from myself—my body froze like ice, even though he never threatened me.
‘Maybe it’s because he’s descended from dragons.’
Just as my ancestor was the great mage Periway, the legend that the Granit family descended from a dragon who took human form might not be as absurd as it sounds.
The tense silence between us was broken by Sither’s right-hand man, Hyle.
Beaming, he greeted me with an overly cheerful smile.
“Good afternoon, madam!”
“Hello.”
Unlike Sither, who always ate at home, Hyle sometimes accompanied him and sometimes didn’t, so I didn’t see him often.
But today, his grin was wider than ever—almost unnervingly so.
‘Why does that smile feel… wrong?’
I knew Hyle was a good person, but his grin somehow triggered an instinctive sense of discomfort.
Rubbing his hands together, he said,
“You came out to greet him! As expected of newlyweds, haha!”
“…?”
Greet him? Newlyweds?
I blinked, confused, but Hyle just turned around instead of explaining.
“Well then, I’ll take my leave. I’ll let you two enjoy your private time.”
Even as he backed away, he kept grinning from ear to ear. I tilted my head.
‘What is he talking about?’
Private time? We weren’t exactly that kind of couple.
‘But Sither’s expression looks strange too.’
The corners of his lips were twitching oddly—like a worm wriggling.
When I turned to look at him, he hastily covered his mouth with his palm.
“Ahem.”
After a few fake coughs, he reverted to his usual stoic demeanor. Folding his arms, he asked in a solemn tone,
“Did you come out to greet me?”
“I came out to check on the garden.”
Was I supposed to come out to greet him? How could I know when he’d arrive, anyway?
As I tilted my head in confusion, Sither’s expression darkened.
He dragged a hand down his face and muttered under his breath, voice laced with irritation.
“Of course. Hyle and his damned nonsense.”
So I hadn’t misunderstood—Hyle had been talking nonsense.
Since we were already talking, I decided to ask how his day had gone.
“Did you finish your morning training? Was everything fine?”
“What could possibly happen?”
Sither shrugged, then abruptly changed the subject.
“Did you drink the juice I made for you?”
“Ah.”
That was… not a good topic.
‘Oh right, he did say something about leaving juice for me this morning.’
I’d been half-asleep during breakfast and must’ve just nodded absentmindedly.
Sither’s thick brows furrowed sharply.
“Ahh?”
I couldn’t very well admit I hadn’t been listening to him earlier, so I fidgeted and lowered my head.
“…I was going to drink it after checking the garden.”
“Didn’t anyone teach you as a child that lying is bad?”
“It’s not a lie! Ugh, seriously—”
“You’re terrible at lying. You should know that.”
I had plenty of counterarguments ready—ethical ones like what’s so good about lying, or logical ones like how do you objectively measure lying ability—but I held my tongue.
This was a losing conversation. The more I said, the worse it’d get.
So, I chose escape.
“I’ll just take a quick look at the garden and come back. You can go ahead to the dining room first.”
