Chapter 51
“…Um, Lord Ruaire?”
“What.”
Today again, the moment the clock struck exactly 3 p.m., Hyperion rose from his seat and began to gather his things.
The boy—who looked every bit like a perfect young noble stepped straight out of a portrait—would vanish somewhere dressed in plain clothes that seemed more suited to a commoner.
After watching him go out like this for just over two weeks, Hael finally asked,
“Where are you going?”
“What’s it to you.”
The curt reply, as cold as a pebble dropped to the ground, made Hael frown.
Even if his body was younger now, his soul hadn’t changed a bit, and neither had his ways.
“As your loyal retainer, I should at least know where my master is headed. What if you were to face an unexpected danger?”
Hyperion gave a scoffing laugh, as if the thought was absurd, and answered calmly.
“My magical abilities are fully restored. If you insist on offering your dedication, that’s kind of you, but I’ll pass—so stop clinging to me.”
Denied the chance to satisfy his curiosity, Hael sulked and watched the small boy’s figure fade into the forest, vanishing like starlight.
The sound of quiet sobbing echoed in Hyperion’s ears.
What was it this time? Clicking his tongue inside his mouth, he walked through the undergrowth.
He had built the institution called the Magic Tower and filled it with talented mages so it could run without him. In the current age, there was no situation that truly required him to take the front lines.
Still, he was the Tower Master—the leader of hundreds of mages.
For amusement in an otherwise tedious life, he had chosen to keep an eye on that little girl, but his true duty was to live as Hyperion Ruaire, Tower Master.
After watching Maia’s daily life twice, he had stopped paying attention to her all day and instead kept to a fixed schedule—visiting the forest at exactly 3 p.m. each afternoon to see her.
He had thought she was doing a little better lately.
He’d even given her a few scares, thinking it would keep her from causing trouble again…
Hyperion climbed onto a nearby branch and spoke.
“…Alright then, let’s hear it. What’s got you crying today?”
Maia, her face streaked with tears, looked up at him—and then burst into fresh sobs.
“…Never mind, I’m not telling you… Waaaah…”
Hyperion pressed his fingers to his forehead and sighed.
“Haa…”
What on earth was he supposed to do with this kid?
Why had that damned Sahar Lakedaimon, with a perfectly fine wife at home, gone and set his eyes on a married woman, bringing about this mess?
…If he’d been that serious, he should have just taken her as his mistress.
If it wasn’t that kind of feeling but merely the favor toward a talented subordinate, then he should have made that crystal clear.
What an incorrigible fool.
Even while he brooded, the girl’s pitiful sobbing didn’t stop.
Looking down at her with a complicated expression, Hyperion impulsively gathered mana and formed something in his hand.
“Ow!”
His aim was off, and it hit Maia on the head. She rubbed her head with a small hand, a pained whimper slipping out.
A faint pang of guilt pricked him, but as always, Hyperion masked it with a brazen expression.
Maia glared at him with tear-brimmed eyes full of reproach.
But when he ignored her, she reluctantly groped at the grass until her hand found the object.
“Huh?”
She discovered a small figurine shaped like an owl, and a note of wonder entered her voice.
“I know what this is—it’s an owl!”
Her pain seemingly forgotten, she exclaimed brightly.
Hyperion felt a faint stirring inside him, which he deliberately covered with a cold reply.
“Right. And from now on, don’t come into the forest to cry.”
“Huh?”
Maia’s eyes went wide.
Avoiding her gaze, Hyperion added quietly,
“If you’ve got something you want to cry about, write me a letter instead. I’ll read it.”
What kind of farce was this?
He immediately felt puzzled and regretful about his own actions.
Yet even with this generosity, Maia only stared at him blankly, not understanding.
“…Tch.”
Dropping from the branch where he’d been sitting, Hyperion strode toward her.
Pointing at the figurine in her hand, he explained,
“That figurine will turn into a messenger bird.”
Maia looked from the figurine to him, mouth slightly agape.
“Whenever you want to send me a letter, stroke the figurine’s head. It’ll turn into a real bird and deliver your letter to me.”
It was, by his own standards, an excessively kind explanation.
Hyperion lowered his gaze to her shining golden eyes and spoke seriously.
“…Pfft.”
But what came back was—
“That’s ridiculous!”
Unable to help it, she burst out laughing.
Hearing the high, clear laughter of a child, Hyperion was momentarily stunned.
…He had stooped to showing uncharacteristic generosity, made her a messenger, even promised to accept her trivial letters anytime—and she laughed?
The brightness in her eyes lasted only a moment before her gaze sharpened.
“Kyahhh!”
Hyperion’s small hands mercilessly tugged at Maia’s soft cheeks.
Pouting as she left the forest, Maia greeted Hyperion the next day with a dazed expression.
From the look on her face, it was obvious what had happened.
Hyperion smirked openly.
“You, you…”
Maia opened and closed her mouth soundlessly, then pointed a chubby finger at him.
Feeling oddly displeased, Hyperion grabbed her finger and asked,
“What?”
“How did you… You’re not… You’re a mage, aren’t you?”
Only just figured it out?
Recalling all the times he’d used teleportation magic right in front of her, Hyperion was struck by the sheer slowness of this child’s perception.
“You only just realized…?”
“N-no! I knew already! I just didn’t know you were such an amazing mage that you could make a figurine that turns into a real bird!”
Was that really ‘amazing’?
To Hyperion, whose mind operated far above that of ordinary people, her words were nothing but fussing. He wore a disinterested look.
“What’s your name? Where do you live? Are you… a noble?”
“What’s with that half-formal tone? If you’re going to use honorifics, do it properly.”
Deliberately answering rudely, Hyperion made Maia’s eyes widen in uncertainty—was he really a noble?
“Uh, well…”
“Never mind. I’m not a noble. Not that my status is low either.”
In truth, he was above any noble—this nation’s founding hero and the sole transcendent left in the present age.
But Hyperion had no intention of telling this child that.
“….”
Who is this boy?
That question sprouted deep in Maia’s heart that day.
Time flowed on endlessly.
After they had gone through all four seasons since their first meeting, it was now late spring of their second year.
Under a night sky draped in the veil of darkness, stars dotted the heavens and a crescent moon hung at the edge, casting a cold light.
Secretly, without her grandmother or the maids knowing, Maia stood by her window to receive the messenger. With a practiced motion, she stroked the owl’s head twice to turn it back into a figurine, then unfolded the reply.
Her letter to Hyperion had gone like this:
Not long ago, Giovanni’s father—who was also Maia’s history tutor—had been caught secretly pilfering valuables from the estate.
“I trusted you with my granddaughter’s education, believing you to be a man proud of his lineage and mindful of honor as you claimed—yet you dare make a fool of me? Do you still call yourself a teacher?”
Though she usually spent most of her days in her bedroom, Maia’s grandmother had gotten up in person to scold him severely.
Giovanni’s father was forced to return all the wages he had ever been paid, then was kicked out of the estate.
He had been the most respected figure in the village, even above the wealthy Hansberk family, but after this incident, rumors spread, and he and his family left town in disgrace.
Honestly, as a teacher who did nothing but recite from the book in class and showed no care or passion for his young pupil, Maia thought it was just as well.
“‘You should have told me before he left. I’d have scattered filth along his path.’ …What is he even saying…”
Hyperion’s reply was a showcase of biting sarcasm.
Maia chuckled softly.
“Maia.”
Just then, from outside her firmly closed door, a clear voice called her name.
Crumpling the letter in her hand, Maia turned toward the door.
It was her grandmother’s voice.
“Grandmother?”
“You’re still awake. May I come in?”
Why is Grandmother suddenly…?
