Episode 8: The Shell House
“Nasia?”
The Duke of Iter was looking directly at me.
What? He can actually see me?
I froze mid-step.
But I’m using an invisibility spell. I even lifted my hand to check—yes, I could still feel the flow of mana mist wrapped around my body.
He can see me?
Sure, there were rare sword masters capable of detecting distortions from invisibility magic. They didn’t see the body itself—only a faint ripple in the air, they said.
But the Duke of Iter wasn’t vaguely staring—
he was staring right at me, eyes locked.
…How?
If he really sees me, then he’s a monster among monsters.
There’s no monster here except the Duke of Iter himself.
Slowly, I walked toward the massive shell where he stood.
And yes—his gaze followed me the entire time.
He really can see me.
“…Your Grace?”
He gave a tiny nod. He was sitting, leaning against a small desk built into the shell.
“Ugh…”
I grabbed the lower edge of the shell and awkwardly climbed over the railing.
When I looked up, I saw him withdraw a hand he had slightly extended.
…Was he going to help me up?
If you’re going to help, then help properly—why pull back so coldly?
“……”
Silence—colder than his withdrawn hand—hung between us until the Duke finally spoke.
“…Is this your place?”
It was the first time we’d stood this close and talked since the day we met.
I shook my head.
“No.”
It wasn’t my place.
Sure, I wanted to make it my hideout, but a hideout has to be secret.
And now knights knew about it.
Even the Duke knew.
“It’s yours,” I muttered.
It was on his territory anyway.
I lowered my gaze—because I felt guilty.
Near his feet was a magic circle drawn with the white mana-sand.
A barrier I set up so I’d know if anyone entered.
And he had just… ripped through it.
If that had been a stronger barrier meant to block intruders, the backlash could have killed me on the spot. My mana would have reversed and—poof—afterlife.
So much for the whole “yolo” thing—my head almost got chopped off.
Did he figure out I’m a mage?
He definitely saw the magic circle.
Unless… magic has been banned so long that people don’t recognize it anymore.
But a man with a literal mana-eyesight walking around the mansion?
No way.
My thoughts spiraled, and then the Duke spoke.
“I just came because I knew this place.”
For someone speaking after a long silence, he sounded oddly… reluctant.
I glanced up.
He wasn’t looking at me—or inside the shell—but somewhere far off.
I followed his gaze.
“…Huh?”
I didn’t see anything.
Well—something should have been there.
When I first came, that direction was foggy, but now it was filled with fog so thick I couldn’t even tell whether something existed or not.
Only when I examined the area from my feet upward did I realize it hid the sea.
The fog blurred the boundary between sky and horizon. If something walked out of that fog, I wouldn’t know until I heard it.
A chill ran down my spine.
“Why did you bring sand here?”
I startled and looked up.
He really sounded like he was interrogating me.
But his expression didn’t match his voice—just mild curiosity.
“Because it’s white and pretty…”
I couldn’t exactly say I took it because it contained mana.
He tilted his head slightly, then looked at the dried Elixir herb nearby.
Meaning: And that one?
“That too…”
Even to me, the dried herb looked like an ugly, crumpled weed.
(Though yes, Elixir herbs are supposed to be dried and ground.)
“I see.”
Thankfully, he didn’t question it further.
He was, apparently, not judgmental about other people’s… questionable aesthetic preferences.
Awkward about meeting his eyes, I looked down and brushed the sand—trying to discreetly erase the magic circle.
The sand, drained of mana, slid limply, piling uselessly.
“If you want this place to be yours,” he said suddenly, “you may have it.”
I froze.
He said nothing about magic.
His gaze settled on me—a cold, overpowering presence that felt strong enough to stop the air itself.
“Hah…”
I inhaled sharply.
His aura was overwhelming for my weak body.
“But not for a while,” he continued.
He knows.
I’m caught.
My fingers loosened.
White sand slipped between them.
I’m dead. Execution. Game over. Next life—please let me be reborn as a pampered cat. Or a rich family’s daughter. No—cat is fine.
“There.”
He pointed toward the fog-covered sea.
“That area. Monsters will soon emerge from there.”
…Execution site?
“That foggy sea is much closer than it looks. If you listen—”
He stopped.
When he grew silent, the whole world felt silent.
Even the sound of sand falling from my hand stopped.
Then—
—sshhhhh…
A sound slipped between the stillness.
Waves.
My eyes widened.
“You can hear the sea,” he said. “Monsters from the Fog Sea will come from there.”
Our eyes met.
He didn’t look angry.
He didn’t look like someone staring at a mage sentenced to execution.
He just looked… normal.
“Is it dangerous?” I asked.
Aren’t monster-fighting knights everywhere?
Especially people with mana-eyes—weird fog shouldn’t scare them.
He nodded.
“They are unlike monsters on land. They are cunning.”
He listened to the waves again before speaking.
“You don’t know what monsters are. They won’t appear the way you think.”
“They will appear at your side without you noticing. In a form familiar to you.”
A calm yet chilling warning.
He stepped off the desk and walked away, circling around the sand pile I gathered.
“So don’t come here often.”
He turned back once more.
“And lastly—sorry for entering your space without permission.”
His voice was calm, emotionless.
I dusted off my hands and stood.
Even then, I couldn’t understand.
He was the Duke.
Ruler of this maritime territory.
Practically a king within his domain.
Why would he apologize to me?
Magic is banned anyway.
If a mage is caught, execution is immediate.
If I get exposed, the Duke’s entire house could be ruined along with me.
So—why take me in at all?
“Your Grace.”
I used “Duke” instead of “Your Excellency.” Old habits from my past life.
He stopped.
I wasn’t planning to ask.
But I needed answers.
“Why… did you accept me as family?”
Not something a five-year-old should ask.
But I had no choice.
If you’re going to use me and discard me—just do it quickly.
Then I can move on.
The Duke turned to me.
For a moment, the world slowed.
His expression was complicated.
But there was no trace of malice—no desire to use me.
He walked back—not into the shell, but sat on its railing.
“When I was a child, I called this place the Shell House.”
I blinked.
So he knew this place long before.
“Whether you’ll understand this or not…”
He spoke.
“When I came here as a child, it was because… I had no allies in the house.”
He paused.
“Like you in the Baron’s household.”
“…Ah.”
My bruises had faded fast, leaving only faint yellow traces on my skin.
“When I was young, I wished someone would be on my side. A maid walking down the hall, a knight guarding my door—anyone. But there was no one.”
No emotion crossed his face, despite the bitterness of the story.
“I was a bastard son. My older brother—the obvious successor—hated me.”
He tilted his head slightly, lost in thought.
“At twelve, I stopped wishing for someone. The day my brother locked me inside this shell.”
He gestured at the desk.
Oh.
So that’s why knocking it makes the shell close.
“After that, I felt like I had lost something. I devoted myself only to getting stronger.”
His voice remained steady.
“Eventually, Father named me the successor. My brother was sent away. I became the Duke… and then I met you.”
His gaze briefly fell on my wrist.
“I wasn’t sure if it was greed or impulse. But seeing someone who resembled the child I once was… I thought I could give you something I never had.”
He stood.
“To me, it felt like a fair trade. You’d gain freedom from the Baron’s house—maybe even revenge—and I… thought I might regain what I lost.”
His voice held a strange power—soft, yet commanding attention.
He smiled faintly.
“Does that answer your question?”
Then he added:
“If you’re ever curious again, ask. I’ll answer anytime.”
He must have realized belatedly that he’d said too much to a five-year-old.
He started walking away again.
He never once mentioned the magic circle.
Maybe he really didn’t recognize it.
“……”
Relief washed over me.
Ask anytime.
His voice echoed in my mind.
He wasn’t as cold as the rumors said.
His words were too raw, too real, to be a manipulation.
“…Is he sincere?”
For the first time since arriving here, I felt something close to comfort.
On the way back, Sir Rotia appeared out of nowhere and walked beside me.
The Duke must have summoned him.
“I will escort you to the mansion.”
“Okay! Let’s go!”
A chance to admire those beautiful mana-eyes up close wasn’t something I’d miss.
Just as I reached out toward him—
“Excuse me.”
Rotia lifted me into his arms.
Escort meant carrying me to my room, apparently.
I dangled in his arms, fully able to admire his clear garnet-colored mana-eyes.
Unlike my previous life, these eyes weren’t murky with greed.
He didn’t even care that the white sand smudged his black uniform.
After walking awhile, Rotia glanced down at me again.
“…?”
He looked away, then stole another glance.
“What is it?”
He hesitated, then said seriously:
“Your body is still weak. You should not overexert yourself.”
Well… fair.
But before I could defend myself—
“If you intend to sneak out by climbing a tree again, please call me instead.”
“…Huh?”
A tree?
Oh. He must have assumed I climbed down the tree outside my window.
“But would you help me every time?”
Knights weren’t exactly known for helping children sneak out.
Rotia froze in place.
The way he stared at me—this man was about to swear allegiance.
“…Yes. I will assist you.”
His voice was solemn.
Terrifyingly sincere.
“Really? You won’t tell anyone?”
He hesitated.
“…I will have to report to the Duke after… no—after you return.”
How… is that sneaking out?
