Chapter 2
The reception room they were directed to remained empty for a long time.
Quite some time passed, but Jeina, lost in thoughts about how to spend the rest of her life, didn’t even notice it.
“Since it’s the Magic Tower, at least I won’t starve… There should be plenty of books too…”
Perhaps living freely in the Tower, neglected but at least undisturbed, was better than wandering among relatives who only tormented her.
Click.
“The price for wasting my time will be high.”
It was then, as Jeina was collecting her thoughts, that a cold, emotionless voice broke the silence of the reception room.
“Are you the one who calls herself my daughter?”
Tall, muscular yet agile, wearing a loose hoodie, with long black hair—he exuded a presence so intense it made her gasp for breath.
Though he wore a bored expression, simply meeting his gaze sent chills across her body.
Diarmid Bellafanian, the Lord of the Magic Tower. Her father had appeared.
A boy who had followed Diarmid read aloud from a letter:
“Currently, it’s said that the deceased Black Night Dragon, Bezriche, claimed that the Lord of the Tower is this child’s father. Of course, that’s the dragons’ account.”
“Bezriche, huh.”
An unidentifiable gleam flickered in Diarmid’s eyes, and the corner of his mouth curled into a cold smile.
It was then that Diarmid, who had stood back all this time, strode forward with long legs.
“Ah. She definitely takes after her mother.”
He leaned in, appraising Jeina with a careful gaze.
“She doesn’t quite look like a member of the Black Night clan or the Celestial Sky clan.”
As he got closer, the size difference between them became more apparent, and the sense of intimidation he emanated felt even stronger.
“I can understand why the dragons would want to kill her as a symbol of corruption. Her eyes aren’t black, which means there’s other blood mixed in.”
Secrets unknown to humans flowed from Diarmid’s mouth—how dragons were divided into clans, how mixed-blood dragons had different eye colors—all things impossible for outsiders to know.
Jeina could now truly grasp that the man in front of her had been her mother’s lover. These were things one could only learn directly from a dragon.
It seemed he felt the same, as Diarmid’s piercing gaze locked onto Jeina’s face.
“…Why can’t I look away from his eyes?”
The two of them held a slightly prolonged gaze.
“They look like mine.”
For a brief moment, in that alien face she wouldn’t have recognized as her father otherwise, Jeina felt a fleeting sense of kinship.
A vivid blue, as pure as sapphire.
Perhaps Diarmid was thinking the same. A familiar word escaped his lips:
“Blue eyes…”
But Jeina quickly realized it was just her imagination.
“But that alone doesn’t prove she’s my daughter.”
The fleeting sense of closeness Jeina felt was instantly cut down by Diarmid. His voice left no room for sentiment.
The boy standing behind them looked surprised, apparently not expecting such a response, glancing back and forth between Diarmid and Jeina.
“A woman can know her child because she gives birth, but a man cannot, right?”
He must have gazed at the stars with other lovers, whispered words of love and laughter, yet now, even though Jeina was here, his voice shattered those times with unnatural calmness.
A sharp jawline, a defined nose, long lashes, and piercing sapphire eyes like gemstones—his features were almost unreal, like a sculpture of an angel.
Yet what felt stranger to Jeina was the utter lack of emotion in his heart.
It was as if, to Diarmid, other people were as insignificant and unnecessary as ants.
Of course, he’s the one who let his own daughter die.
With the power to kneel even emperors and destroy empires, he had abandoned and ignored his daughter, though he could have saved her fragile life at any time.
The boy, who had been silently observing from behind, spoke cautiously.
“I heard that dragon was the Lord of the Tower’s lover. Are you doubting that she bore another man’s child?”
“Is there anything absolute in this world?”
A contemptuous gaze drilled into Jeina. A shiver ran down her spine.
“She could have had a child with a human man, couldn’t she?”
“It’s been ten years since I left to kill the King of Evil Spirits… If this child were my daughter, she’d be about ten. But she looks younger. Perhaps the dragons are hiding a year or two.”
Jeina looked down at her thin wrist. She was indeed smaller and looked younger than her peers.
“Even if she is ten, that doesn’t guarantee she’s mine.”
The boy nodded at Diarmid’s cold words.
“Other than her hair and eye color, she doesn’t resemble the Lord at all.”
“Her hair was black too.”
“Ah, a member of the Black Night clan. Then it’s even harder to believe… Lately, I’ve heard the dragons’ situation isn’t good. Perhaps that’s why…”
The boy responded with a somewhat amused tone, but quickly returned to his usual composure and asked Diarmid:
“Should we have the Tower’s mages research a paternity detection spell? It seems like a dragon’s scheme, but in case she really is the Lord’s daughter…”
“No need.”
“Eh?”
“Dragons aren’t serious about humans in the first place.”
Diarmid’s eyes, which had darkened, returned to their usual boredom. He turned back to his indifferent expression and said:
“Therefore, there’s no need for you to take this seriously either.”
Diarmid quietly murmured to Jeina as he turned his back on her:
“I don’t know what expectations you brought here… but it’s laughable.”
That was the first thing he ever said directly to her. Her first meeting with her father in this life—Diarmid Bellafanian—was over just like that.
“Wow. I didn’t expect it to go like this.”
After Diarmid left the room, the boy shrugged and spoke, his voice confident now that Diarmid was gone.
“The cleanup is always my job. It’s such a pain.”
He immediately changed his demeanor, flipping his attitude like a sheet of paper, and sat confidently in front of Jeina.
“The Lord of the Tower left without a word. So, what should I do with you now? Hmm?”
Tilting his head slightly, sunlight caught his blonde hair, making it sparkle like blooming spring flowers. Yet his eyes were as dark and deep as the ocean, matching Jeina’s.
“Speak. Hey, Ashrid?”
For the first time, Jeina spoke in response to the name.
“That’s not my real name. My relatives called me that because my real name sounded too human. In the Tower, I want to be called ‘Jeina,’ the name my mother gave me.”
Apparently, her relatives had told the Tower mages her name was “Ashrid” instead of “Jeina.”
“You have two names? How annoying. Anyway, you’re trying to boss me around. What if I refuse, little one?”
Mikael smirked mischievously, his greenish eyes narrowing.
“From the letter, I see your mother died young. So you must have expected a lot from meeting your father. Coming to be welcomed by him, and then he treats you coldly… How does that feel?”
After speaking, Mikael laughed loudly again, covering his mouth.
“But still, there’s nothing you can do. You’re weak. Useless.”
Deep amusement and delight shone in Mikael’s eyes and smile.
“You couldn’t even say a word to the Lord of the Tower, huh? But good. If you had opened your mouth, your head would’ve been off in an instant.”
The boy in front of her, young yet dangerously seductive in beauty, had a radiant smile that could lower anyone’s guard—but Jeina’s wariness only increased.
She already knew that beneath his beautiful exterior, his character was far from good.
Mikael Bellafanian.
In Sword of Vengeance, he was the final boss’s right-hand man, his nephew, and the one who contributed most to Diarmid’s evil deeds.
The novel described him as having become twisted, obsessed only with achievement after losing his parents.
He’s eighteen this year… so he’s technically my cousin.
In the years after Jeina’s mother died, he would grow into a formidable villain—but that was far later. For now, he was just another mage in the Tower.
Even if he hasn’t committed any major evil yet, it’s clear he’s not a good person.
Listening quietly, Jeina answered Mikael in a calm voice:
“That’s true.”
Then she sipped her now-cold tea.
“…?”
Just a single word. Compared to Mikael, who never stopped talking, it was pitifully short. But she had nothing more to say.
