Chapter 79
“Such irresponsibility—”
“Don’t think of it that way. Someone like you, whose magic is so full, once you learn how to release it, the mana will just burst out. You might even, I don’t know, actually explode.”
Vincente whispered quietly.
Startled, I glared at him and he laughed, stepping back.
“Don’t worry. From what I tried, the human body doesn’t burst that easily.”
He sounded unaware that that wasn’t the point at all.
I sighed heavily. Seeing me like that, Vincente continued.
“Stage two is simple. First, rote-memorize the incantation. Not a single line, not a single glyph can be off — not even by a hair. If you do it wrong, the backlash could actually make your body burst.”
“…Has that actually happened?”
“Quite a few times. Guys who got cocky trusting only their talent and bit the dust.”
Was I not taking on a more dangerous challenge than I realized?
Worry washed over me and my face fell. Vincente, watching me, gave a piece of advice.
“If you’re really worried, don’t try to learn them all at once. Pick one and drill it hard. Give me the book.”
He reached out; I obediently handed the book over.
Vincente flipped through the pages boldly, folded one over, and handed it back. When I looked at him puzzled, he pointed with a finger and said,
“Among magic, the simplest narrative formula is flame magic — and this is one of the most basic spells. It won’t be so heavy. Even if you arrange the incantation wrong, the side effects aren’t too severe.”
“Ah…”
I lowered my eyes back to the book after Vincente’s explanation. It did seem notably simpler than the previous incantations.
If other spells focused on lines, the flame magic seemed to focus on shapes and layout.
I was personally confident at memorizing geometric arrangements, so it felt less daunting than before.
‘Seen this way, he’s not such a bad guy.’
He keeps his promises and, seeing me struggling, points me toward an easier path.
Even if it was for the contract, he could have just written me off as talentless and left it at that.
But Vincente didn’t. That surprised me a lot.
‘But when I think of Hoyun, I can’t just gloss over it.’
What Hoyun and the people captured as slaves went through in the tunnels under Khan — the things and the suffering — were real.
I looked at Vincente in silence. Feeling my gaze, he made a puzzled face.
“What is it? Why are you staring like that?”
“Nothing…”
I was about to shake my head to avoid needlessly provoking him when Hoyun’s face flashed into my mind. I thought of the misfortune she might have suffered if not for me.
If Hoyun hadn’t been captured as a slave, she wouldn’t have become a greedy person’s puppet, smeared with blood, or sold off to the arena.
‘It’s true that because of that Rodi learned swordsmanship, but that’s beside the point.’
Putting aside the story-wide consequences, the personal torment Hoyun endured would be beyond imagination.
I couldn’t stand it.
“Why do you hold slave auctions?”
Even though I knew it was a reckless question.
For a moment Vincente’s expression hardened.
“…Do I have a reason to tell you that?”
His voice was cold, the playful, light tone gone.
But I didn’t back down and kept speaking.
“I know it’s none of my business. But I’m curious. You run this massive casino and control the underworld — why put on slave auctions of all things?”
Vincente watched me silently. Then he gave a short, mocking chuckle and said,
“You know what? I really hate things like slavery.”
“Huh?”
The words didn’t line up. He ran a market that bought and sold slaves — how could he claim to hate slavery?
His gaze dropped. His violet eyes darkened. Then he strode up close to me.
He didn’t stop, and I stepped back until my waist hit the desk and bent. Still, he didn’t stop.
Thinking he might be dangerous, I gripped the quill on the desk, ready to stab if necessary.
“What are you thinking?”
Vincente asked again in a deceptively light voice.
“You asked me. Why hold slave auctions? I’ll tell you the reason — but you’ve got quite an attitude about it.”
He gave his characteristic smile and began unbuttoning his shirt.
What was this — just telling a reason?
I, unable to bear it, swung at the quill —
“Do you know what this mark is?”
He tilted his head as he unbuttoned the top of his shirt. There was an unfamiliar seal stamped on the nape of his neck.
When I couldn’t answer, Vincente smiled brightly and replied,
“It’s the mark of a slave.”
“Wait, that means—”
It means you’re a slave.
I couldn’t bring myself to voice it.
Vincente a slave. Impossible.
Yet he merely smiled quietly at my stunned face, without denying it. He was confirming my thought.
If that was true, it made even less sense. Why would someone born a slave run slave auctions?
“This mark has a curse bound to it.”
“…You mean the Aethernum curse.”
“Yeah. The person who bought me put a curse on me. They must’ve found me useful.”
“You hold slave auctions to find that person without revealing your name?”
“One person who bought a slave once, you can’t get them to buy again.”
I looked at him, speechless. He glanced at me, a smirk at the corner of his mouth.
“Why? Do you disgust me?”
Startled, I flinched.
I shrugged my shoulders once and looked at him. His amethyst eyes were aimed at me, empty of anything.
“…Why would I disgust you?”
“Because nobles always hate those lowly things like slaves.”
Vincente stared and smiled slowly.
“You’re a noble, too.”
“I—”
Aristocratic superiority ran rampant in this world. Sure, there were nobles like Duke Creiman who weren’t like that, but most nobles acted that way.
They took their privileges for granted and looked down on those who didn’t have them.
They considered the lowest class, below commoners, to be less than insects.
A slave mark meant someone was from the lowest class. It made sense that Vincente might share that prejudice.
Even if I shouted “I’m not like that! I believe everyone has equal rights!” he wouldn’t accept it.
There was no need to convince him of my beliefs right then, but since we would be seeing each other again, it was better to clear things up.
I thought about how to begin. Vincente’s gaze stayed fixed on me the whole time.
I slowly opened my lips.
“I’m an orphan.”
“No you’re not. I checked — you were born to proper parents. Where’s the lie?”
“Could you not say you investigated me that casually?”
He snorted.
I shook my head and continued.
“Having parents doesn’t necessarily mean you had a normal family.”
I didn’t know what kind of people Ciela’s parents had been, but they had died in an accident, so I could tell my story without hesitation.
“We had no money, nothing. I endured people’s scorn and pity at the same time.”
“You blew all your money on luxuries…”
“A little. Fine, if you want to put it that way.”
Vincente kept interrupting and I pulled a sour face. He finally nodded and took a step back.
“Living like that, I thought: I didn’t choose to be born like this—so why should I be treated like this? It’s unfair. Some people are born into good families and plenty, while I’m not.”
“…”
“So no, I don’t think nobles are inherently superior. That doesn’t mean it’s okay to harm people either.”
The last remark was a jab at Vincente. I hoped it would sting, but his expression gave nothing away.
He looked at me as if surprised. His intense stare made me embarrassed; I rolled my eyes and said,
“And even if I understand why you might do the slave auctions, if that method could find who cursed you, you’d have found them long ago.”
In the original, too, Vincente’s curse disappears only after Cloan dismantles the organization and kills the caster. Vincente never manages to lift the curse himself.
In any case, he eventually gets free of it — but that’s a story far in the future. Until then, he has to live in fear of when the curse might trigger again.
Thinking about it that way, I felt sorry for him. He’d been a young boy sold into slavery because of poverty and cursed.
‘He even lost his real name because of it.’
The name Vincente he uses now is an alias. His real name exists, but since the curse triggers through names, he abandoned his real name to avoid the curse and adopted a new one — one truer than the original.
“What are you thinking?”
When I had been silent for a long time, he asked. After much thought I spoke.
“Vincente.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll help you break your curse — will you stop holding slave auctions?”
