Chapter 32
Unlike Lanje, the Count could only focus on one word—lawsuit.
His mind grew tangled as he imagined the fallout: sensational newspaper headlines, endless whispering he couldn’t verify or shut down. The thought of the issue being handled publicly filled him with unease.
…There’s no choice but to back down for now.
That was the conclusion he quickly reached.
Provoking the sisters any further would be foolish. Erna, who seemed increasingly unhinged, and the arrogant Lanje both made him uneasy. Especially considering this was Simone’s residence—it wasn’t the place for rash behavior.
“I understand your intentions. Let’s end it here for today,” the Count said, masking his expression as he stood.
“We’ll continue this conversation another time.”
Erna looked ready to lash out again, but Lanje grabbed her just in time. After shooting the Count a sharp glance, she whispered something into her sister’s ear.
The Count left the parlor without a single farewell.
Even Petra, annoyed by the second round of uninvited guests, didn’t bother to see him off.
But the further he got from the mansion, the more his anxiety twisted in his chest.
I can’t stir up a scene just yet… but leaving things as they are?
The fact that the sisters mentioned a lawsuit without hesitation made him uneasy. Who knew what schemes they might pull with that as leverage? His imagination naturally veered into dark territory.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves—they’re still just children. Once they’re brought to Swanhild, what could they possibly do?
Even if, as Lanje said, this turned into an abduction, as long as it was done quietly, it wouldn’t matter.
The real obstacle was that the sisters likely knew that too—and would stay near Petra until the entrance exam passed.
Once they become cadets, it’ll be truly hard to touch them…
At this point, trying to pressure the academy into rejecting their applications lacked any reasonable justification.
The Count let out a low groan.
The recent meeting with Chairman Baden came to mind.
“It’s a simple matter. I hear the current headmaster is your nephew. Is that true?”
“Indeed.”
“His Majesty is concerned about the company your nephew keeps. And you, Lord Hesser, surely wish to see your granddaughters placed somewhere safe. Wouldn’t that suggest… a little intervention before the exams?”
“You mean, to have them fail intentionally?”
“Perish the thought! Nothing so dishonorable. But considering how far the quality of mage cadets has fallen over the years… wouldn’t it be worth raising the bar? Perhaps adjusting the difficulty or adding some special procedures. With your nephew as headmaster, that shouldn’t be too difficult.”
The chairman had told him not to worry about the details—just drop a hint to the headmaster.
“The actual work will be handled by some outside researchers I’ll be introducing to the headmaster myself.”
The Count had only promised to consider it back then.
But agreeing to even that…
Regardless of how lightly the chairman dressed it up, meddling with the exam process was still meddling. And now, with barely a month left until the exams…
But when the carriage came to a stop, the Count had already made up his mind.
Once in his study, he called for his secretary.
“Prepare a messenger. This invitation is for Chairman Baden—and send this letter to the Mage Academy.”
“You accepted the invitation. I’m pleased.”
“I figured it was time to return anyway.”
It had been a while since they’d last seen each other, so Lenart accepted Helga’s invitation to meet at the Imperial Palace without hesitation.
Helga looked at her cousin with intrigue.
A month ago—and in every previous encounter—Lenart had always carried an air of discomfort. But now, he seemed surprisingly calm. In the past, he’d have refused such an invitation outright.
Perhaps it wasn’t that he’d suddenly warmed up to her, but rather he’d simply grown colder—more calculating.
Lenart had officially returned to the capital three days prior. He had gone to the academy himself, and as expected, had been held back a year. Starting in September, he would repeat his current year.
Having disappeared for half the academic term without leave—especially as a military cadet—that outcome would’ve been unthinkable under normal circumstances.
Only his unique background and the academy’s loose training standards had spared him harsher consequences. An unusually generous decision, to say the least.
But now that he’d announced his return, Lenart was expected to make an appearance before the Emperor as well.
And accepting Helga’s invitation had been the most convenient route—better to present it as a casual family visit than request an official audience.
Helga smiled as she raised her teacup. Lenart’s eyes wandered out toward the sunlight beyond the window.
“You seem gentler than before.”
“…I’ve come to realize you don’t mean me harm.”
Their last meeting had ended terribly, but Helga had shown not hostility, but generosity. Rather than keep his guard up, it made more sense to lower it—just enough to see what he could gain.
As he’d said, he accepted her invitation today because she could help arrange a meeting with the Emperor.
With Helga at his side, the event could be framed as a family gathering—and the Emperor would likely temper his interrogation.
“I’m glad you’ve recognized my goodwill. But Miss Swanhild seems rather headstrong, doesn’t she? I hear she still hasn’t given up.”
Lenart continued gazing out the window.
The exam grounds, just outside the capital, lay in that direction.
It was the first week of June—and today was the entrance exam for the Mage Academy.
Lanje and Erna had gone to take their test, while Lenart had come to the palace at Helga’s invitation.
He couldn’t have accompanied them inside anyway, yet something about it unsettled him.
When the bell struck two o’clock, a distant look crept into Lenart’s eyes. Helga noticed.
“Are you worried?”
“She’s skilled. It’s just an entrance exam—there’s nothing to worry about.”
Despite the confidence in his words, unease flickered across his face.
Helga didn’t comment. It was clear to her he wasn’t motivated by romantic attachment or political calculation. He was simply someone who gravitated toward worst-case scenarios—and now was the perfect time to worry.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Now, shall we?”
Helga stood, purposefully cutting short his thoughts.
“It’s time to greet His Majesty.”
“Something’s definitely off.”
Erna paced back and forth.
She had said the same thing several times now, and Lanje had long stopped counting. Her suggestions to calm down and take a seat were all ignored, so she only nodded absentmindedly.
In truth, Erna wasn’t acting out of place in this moment.
A heavy mood lingered among the gathered applicants at the exam site near the capital.
The reason was clear—the exam format had changed drastically this year.
Like most institutions, the Mage Academy typically filtered applicants through a written test before moving on to practicals.
But this time, candidates were split into two groups: one following the usual written-then-practical path, the other starting directly with the practical.
The official explanation was that the academy’s role was evolving, and thus the process was being made more rigorous.
Why the sudden change…?
Lanje didn’t voice her doubts, but having gone through the selection once before, she eyed the examiners with growing discomfort.
This wasn’t just unexpected—it was suspicious.
Previously, the practical was a simple test of magical energy. But now, the task was far more difficult.
—Defeat the designated summoned creature in coordinated combat.
The exam would be held within a magical barrier, and the instructors would observe each candidate’s performance through specialized spells—judging whether they had the qualities of a proper cadet.
Aside from the extra supervision, this might as well be live combat.
If they were going to ask something like this, the candidates should have been warned ahead of time.
But all Lanje had received was a notice that her group would take the practical first—nothing about the content.
Four applicants had already withdrawn, citing nerves or lack of preparation. Only twelve remained.
Too many instructors, too…
Lanje mentally counted them. The number easily doubled the candidates present. Another irregularity.
Is it because of the summons…?
If they were using summoned beasts, more staff made sense.
In the hierarchy of magic, possession was the calling of higher beings, while summoning dealt with lower ones.
Through ritual, mages could summon beasts from lesser dimensions—often referred to as monsters.
These creatures were unpredictable, often violent, and defied logic in appearance.
Naturally, summoning required extreme caution.
They could only be injured by magic, and defeating them meant either killing them outright or unraveling the summoning ritual itself—making them ideal for testing a mage’s skill and knowledge.
Still… isn’t this dangerous?
If Lanje was this concerned, the others must have been terrified. Half of the remaining examinees paced like Erna, while the rest hugged their knees or gnawed at their fingernails.
Only Lanje and one unknown male candidate seemed composed.
There’s no turning back now.
Lanje was almost grateful that today’s exam overlapped with Helga’s invitation. If not, Lenart might have insisted on escorting them to the site—and possibly even tried to make them withdraw.
Kalisa had at least accepted their determination after seeing the announcement and left without protest. But Lenart, who’d heard Helga’s warnings, would have pushed harder.
Still, Lanje had no intention of giving up.
She’d never seen a summoned beast herself, but no matter how terrifying they made it sound—it couldn’t be worse than the battlefield.
And besides, no one would waste resources to summon anything that dangerous just for an entrance exam.
Erna understood all this logically, but anxiety kept churning inside her.
“Nervous?”
A voice interrupted her thoughts.
It came from one of the examinees—calm, given the situation.
Lanje frowned slightly as she turned to him, trying to place where she’d seen him before. No name came to mind, but he looked oddly familiar. Perhaps a future classmate?
She answered in her usual blunt tone.
“No. Being nervous won’t change anything. I’m not quitting, so why waste energy?”
The boy chuckled as if he found her answer amusing, but beside him, Erna abruptly stopped walking.
“Who are you?”
Partly out of concern for her sister’s rudeness, and partly from wariness toward the stranger, Erna didn’t hide her caution.
Fortunately, the boy offered a polite smile and extended a hand.
“Haine Repels. Let’s do our best today.”
Erna hesitated but eventually shook it.
“Erna Baer. I’m from the West.”
The tension on her face eased slightly, her mind now focused elsewhere.
“This is Lanje. She’s my younger sister.”
She lightly tugged at Lanje’s stiff shoulder, introducing her on her behalf.
Lanje gave only a slight nod of acknowledgment, but Haine’s smile didn’t falter. He didn’t seem offended—more like someone who’d grown used to eccentric personalities.
Suppressing her embarrassment, Erna leaned toward her sister and whispered,
“What’s with you today?”
Poor kids who had their lives disrupted as collateral damage