ILBTD22

Chapter 22

The place where it had all begun — the conference room of House Bernstein.

Everyone who had witnessed the moment Castian’s heart had stopped was gathered there once again. Three priests in mourning robes, four people who looked like mages, and knights wielding various weapons.

All of them looked exhausted, but when they saw Castian unharmed, relief washed over their faces.

“It’s truly a relief, my lord. We were very worried.”
“It seems the Lord has not abandoned Heimnad.”

Some even sent me warm, approving glances.

While there were still those who hadn’t completely let go of their suspicions, the general mood leaned toward believing in my innocence.

The mage who had cast the stasis spell on Castian even stepped forward to shake my hand.

“You’ve worked hard as well. Honestly, I worried that you might be deceiving us, so… sorry for doubting you. Ha ha.”
“Think nothing of it. Given the situation, I understand.”

I clasped the hearty mage’s hand and replied with a smile.

Truthfully, in that situation, I wouldn’t have trusted me either.

They had entrusted Castian’s life to me not only because he had insisted, but because there had been no other option. The expedition had been too critical to postpone, even when the leader’s survival was uncertain.

But we had failed that expedition.

The momentary brightness in the room dimmed again.

Hamill, captain of the Bernstein Knights, who had led the expedition in Castian’s place, bowed his head.

“I’m sorry, my lord. It’s my fault for failing to lead the expedition properly.”
“No, it was because I couldn’t remain at my post. Raise your head, Hamill.”

Castian patted Hamill’s shoulder. Encouraged by his lord’s words, Hamill bowed even deeper, and Idon sniffled at the sight.

Once the mood had shifted, Castian spoke with steady gravity.

“The ritual to summon the Demon King will be complete in about one month. We have no time to wallow in failure, nor can we afford another.”

The expedition members listened intently, nodding with grim expressions.

“After a week of regrouping, we begin the second expedition. This time, we will stop them. Without fail.”

His voice was calm but brimming with confidence — the kind of charisma that made you believe that as long as you followed him, everything would work out.

Even in such a dire moment, it was impossible not to think how impressive he was.

He’s my favorite. I saved that man’s life!

Of course, I kept that thought to myself. Instead, I jumped to my feet and clapped.

The mage Ralph, who had shaken my hand earlier, followed with loud applause, and soon the entire room was ringing with it. We clapped until our palms stung, sealing our resolve before ending the meeting.

I lingered, planning to accompany Castian afterward, but Hamill approached him.

“My lord, I wish to discuss the composition of the knightly order.”

From the way the atmosphere shifted, it was clear this wasn’t a conversation for an outsider like me. Before Castian could say anything, I spoke up first.

“I’ll head off then, my lord. I’ll see you later.”

He gave me a questioning look, as if asking if I’d be all right. I smiled brightly in reassurance and turned away.

There was no need to dampen the spirits of his men by revealing that I was still maintaining the soul-binding spell.

And truthfully, I was fine. After more than two weeks of sustaining the spell, it now felt as natural as breathing. I could maintain it even when far from Castian.

Humming to myself, I headed back to my room — and ran into Marcus.

Well, “ran into” might be generous; he was standing at my door, clearly waiting for me.

“Is something the matter?”

Before he could answer —

“Lydia-nim?”

I nearly jumped. Turning around, I found Idon standing there.

Since when has he been following me?

“Idon-nim? Why are you there?”
“I’m guarding you, Lydia-nim.”

He smiled at me like a loyal puppy.

Ever since I’d had that nosebleed, Idon’s attitude toward me had changed, though I still wasn’t used to it.

Guarding me? Out of nowhere?

Marcus snorted.

“Guarding? More like watching.”

Which made more sense — that had been Idon’s job until recently. But Idon flared up immediately.

“It’s not surveillance, it’s protection. Why would I watch Lydia-nim?”

He said it so indignantly that I almost laughed.

Unfazed, the two men continued bickering over my head.

“Because she’s a necromancer.”
“Lydia-nim is—”

Idon raised his voice, then, perhaps realizing others might overhear, lowered it again.

“—a good necromancer.”

“A good necromancer…?”

Marcus echoed it with a strange expression. Idon puffed out his chest proudly like a dog defending its owner. I, meanwhile, felt awkward.

I raised a hand to stop Idon, then turned to Marcus.

“What is it you wanted to say?”
“I have something to tell you. It’s not bad news.”

“Then let’s hear it. Come in.”

As I opened the door to let Marcus in, Idon muttered worriedly —

“What if the priest is mean to you?”

Compared to how Idon had treated me in the past, Marcus was practically a gentleman. But I didn’t want to scold Idon after he’d just defended me.

“If Marcus-nim is mean, I’ll tell the duke. Satisfied?”

But Idon went a step further.

“Tell me too! I’ll be right outside the door!”

Whether guarding or watching, he clearly intended to stay. That was fine. He wasn’t exactly someone who listened when told to leave anyway.

With Idon posted outside, Marcus and I sat across from each other at the table.

“Does a good necromancer even exist?”

He asked the question as soon as he sat down. His tone wasn’t mocking, but I still didn’t know how to answer.

Even now, on Mount Malfren, necromancers were chanting for the Demon King’s advent and the world’s destruction.

Should I claim they were evil necromancers but I was a good one?

After a moment’s thought, I countered with a question.

“If there are good mages and good priests, shouldn’t there also be good necromancers?”

Marcus pondered, then let out a short, self-deprecating laugh.

“Considering whether I’ve ever been a good priest… it’s not an easy question.”

Humans were like that. In reality, there was no perfect division into purely good or purely bad — that was for fairy tales.

I didn’t know how others judged Marcus, misanthropic and prickly as he was. But to me, he was the good priest who had helped save Castian.

“You’re a good priest, Marcus-nim.”

“And I don’t know whether you’re a good or bad necromancer. But I do know this — you sincerely want to help Duke Bernstein.”

I nodded firmly. That meant more to me than being called “good.”

After all, since becoming a necromancer, my truest truth was exactly that.

Marcus smiled faintly at my expression, then his face turned serious.

“So I have a proposal. Would you consider becoming an ordinary person instead of a necromancer?”

“An… ordinary person?”

“If you undergo purification at the Grand Temple, the darkness within you can be expelled. You could live as a normal human — and it would be much better for staying by the duke’s side.”

It was a tempting offer. I’d never wanted to be a necromancer in the first place.

Wouldn’t it be nice to rid myself of the vile power to command the dead and live quietly?

My mind reached a quick conclusion — but my lips refused to speak it.

Because what Marcus was really saying was that a necromancer could never be “normal.” That a “good necromancer” didn’t exist — that I was, by definition, bad.

I’d done nothing wrong. My magic had saved Castian’s life. I’d done my part. But none of that would matter.

The moment I agreed, I’d be admitting I was evil.

Bitter and hurt, I lowered my head to hide my expression. I didn’t want him to see me clench my jaw.

So I chose cowardice — I postponed my answer.

“Not right now. I need to keep the soul-binding spell on Castian.”
“I understand. I’ll remain by the duke’s side until he fully recovers. When all is over, come with me to the Grand Temple.”