Episode 16
Céline couldn’t say a word—though there was no reason she shouldn’t have been able to.
Her heart was pounding as if it weren’t even her own.
Leonhardt, too, found himself unable to speak.
The two of them simply stood there in silence, feeling each other’s presence.
Until—
“Lord Leonhardt, are you all right?”
—Karl suddenly appeared.
Leonhardt hastily stepped back from Céline.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt, but you looked terribly pale…”
Céline quickly agreed, seizing the opportunity.
“Right? He’s been staying up for days. Shouldn’t we call for a doctor?”
Leonhardt frowned.
“And what could a doctor possibly do for me? Tell me to sleep more, no doubt.”
“Fine, fine.” Céline sighed. In truth, she didn’t trust the physicians in this place either.
Still, doing nothing was worse than trying something. But Leonhardt had an odd aversion to doctors.
Karl handed Leonhardt a small pouch.
“What’s this?”
“Incense. It helps with sleep. Not magical—just something my mother used to make.”
“…Thank you.”
Expressionless, Leonhardt took the pouch.
The three of them entered the Central Tower together. Leonhardt didn’t let Céline stray from his side, and Karl followed closely beside her.
“Lady Céline Lute, your next training session will likely be next week. When would be convenient?”
“I’ll match your schedule, Sir Karl. I’m free anyway.”
Then, as if remembering something, Céline smiled at Leonhardt.
“You’ll be surprised next time you see me—I’ve gotten so much better.”
“I admit, I didn’t expect Lady Céline to improve so quickly,” Karl said.
“Really?”
At the heir’s question, Karl immediately straightened, ready to report.
“She can now wield fire, water, wind, and light. That alone would earn her recognition as a proper mage anywhere.”
“Well, only low-level spells for now,” Céline added brightly. “And controlling my mana is hard. I pour too much power into small things.”
She laughed, her voice light with excitement.
“But I’m still happy. I was worried I’d end up with only a trace of magic.”
They reached the Duke’s study, and Leonhardt left the two of them behind to enter.
The Duke wasn’t surprised to see his son looking exhausted.
He must have heard from the informants already.
Leonhardt gave a polite bow.
“Your Grace’s fief is secure now. The threat was insignificant. I brought back what remained.”
He handed the Duke a case containing the black mage’s bones.
“Well done,” the Duke said warmly, gesturing to the armchair before his desk.
They spoke briefly about the current state of the fief.
“Three new groups of monsters have been sighted. Fortunately, their leaders still have a long way to go before evolving.”
“You didn’t go after them yourself, did you?”
The Duke shook his head.
“No. They’re underdeveloped, but massive in number. Far beyond what I can handle alone. Even reaching them takes half a day.”
“You made the right choice,” Leonhardt said, exhaling in relief.
The Duke had a reckless streak, and Leonhardt often feared that one day it would lead to disaster.
“I understand.”
His tone implied that he would handle it himself.
The North was unlike the capital. With a genius like Leonhardt present, the Northern Duchy had no need for a separate monster-slaying order.
“…Take the rest of the day off.”
Leonhardt nodded.
He wasn’t foolish—he knew his body was at its limit.
“Even so, I’ll have to leave at dawn the day after tomorrow.”
The Duke rubbed his tired eyes and regarded his heir.
Fresh from slaying a black mage, running on no sleep for days, he looked barely human.
But if he waited too long, the monster leaders would evolve—and that would be far worse.
Given how often Leonhardt had gone straight from one mission to the next without rest, even a single day off was a blessing.
“Very well. I trust your judgment.”
“Thank you.”
When Leonhardt stepped back out, Céline and Karl were still deep in a discussion about magic.
For some reason, irritation surged inside Leonhardt’s chest.
He frowned. Yes, he hadn’t slept properly in days—but still, to feel anger without cause meant his mind was wearing thin.
Céline looked up at him with concern.
“Leonhardt, maybe you should rest right away. Look, I’m fine, aren’t I? So you don’t have to worry.”
She waited for him to agree, but Leonhardt only moved his lips soundlessly.
“…Leonhardt?”
When she asked again, he swallowed hard and finally spoke, his expression one of grim resolve.
“Could I ask you a favor?”
“What kind of favor? As long as it’s not impossible, I’ll do it. It’s not like there’s much I can do anyway.”
She said it jokingly, but it was true.
There were few things she could do for him—and none of them were particularly hard.
“I’m sorry, but…”
Céline placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Whatever he asked, she could handle it.
And Leonhardt was not the kind of man to ask for anything that would harm her.
He flinched slightly, then whispered, almost in embarrassment—
“I’m sorry, but… could you stay with me until I fall asleep? Leave as soon as I’m out. Just… until then.”
Karl inhaled sharply, stunned.
Neither Leonhardt nor Céline paid him any mind—for entirely different reasons.
Céline felt a sharp ache in her chest.
He must have been at his limit, mentally and emotionally.
The man who once refused her help even while enduring unbearable pain was now asking her for comfort—and doing so apologetically.
She looked up at him and smiled softly.
“That’s what you were so nervous to say? Of course.”
“…Thank you.”
“We’ve slept in the same place before anyway. It’s nothing new.”
Leaving a speechless Karl Lute behind, the two quickly left the tower.
Then Céline suddenly stopped, frowning.
“Oh—Karl Lute!”
“What about him?”
“I didn’t even say goodbye properly… I keep being rude to my teacher.”
“If he gets offended over that, he’s far too thin-skinned,” Leonhardt said, displeased. The word teacher didn’t sit well with him.
They hadn’t even known each other that long—how could she speak of him so respectfully?
“Well, maybe. Still, he’s been really kind. You know, you should be grateful to him too.”
“What?”
“You didn’t know?”
Céline began recounting her first lesson with Emil Lute.
“It’s a good thing you weren’t there, Leonhardt.”
Leonhardt’s face hardened.
He’d heard that her magic had gone out of control and Karl had handled it—but not that she had nearly died.
“I should have sliced that fool apart with Rashir.”
Céline laughed, half in disbelief. His lack of sleep was clearly making him irritable.
“There’s no need for that. He already lost his job as my teacher.”
“You’re not angry at him? He almost got you killed.”
“Why should I be angry?” she said, eyes wide.
“I didn’t die, did I? And even if I had, you would’ve come for me—like last time.”
“…”
Leonhardt fell silent.
He had completely forgotten that incident.
Heat crept up his neck.
How could he demand to know why she didn’t resent Karl—when he himself had done far worse?
“…I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“It’s fine. It was all a misunderstanding anyway.”
She shrugged lightly.
“Besides, I owe you for keeping me alive these days. Don’t worry about it.”
They arrived at Leonhardt’s chambers. Céline looked around curiously.
One word came to mind: desolate.
The massive, elegant room held only a few grand pieces of furniture. There wasn’t a single decoration—not even a carpet.
“Aren’t you cold in here?”
Leonhardt winced as if bitten.
“Ah… I didn’t think of that. I should have someone bring things for you.”
“I’m not the one staying here every night. I meant, aren’t you cold?”
It took him a moment to process.
“If it’s too warm, I won’t want to get out of bed. I need to be ready to move at any time.”
“…Have you ever slept properly? Even before the nightmares?”
“I always sleep,” he said, as though the question were absurd.
Céline decided not to press further.
Leonhardt rang for a servant. The servant entered, eyes wide at the sight of them.
“Lady Céline Lute will be staying here briefly. Bring a brazier, blankets, and a lap cover.”
While the servant went to fetch them, Leonhardt changed into nightclothes and lay down.
The tension that had always coiled around him was gone in an instant.
Céline felt strange watching it.
Every night she’d spent near him, he’d stayed awake, standing guard. She’d never seen him so defenseless.
She pulled a chair beside his bed.
“Good night.”
“…Sorry,” he mumbled faintly, like a man half-asleep—and within moments, he was out.
His pallor and deep dark circles told her how unwell he truly was.
She looked down at him, pity in her eyes.
If only he could sleep peacefully…
She had thought that as long as she didn’t die again, Leonhardt would at least be able to rest easily.
But reality was the opposite.
What should I do…?
Céline bit her lip.
Her very existence seemed to make him uneasy.
Then, Leonhardt stirred faintly and murmured in his sleep—
“…Céline…”
