Chapter 100………………………………………
Different Dreams
With winter’s arrival, the trees swayed their bare, skeletal arms in the wind. A figure wrapped in a black hood walked out from the dark dawn toward morning light.
He entered a building on the outskirts of the city, far from the bustling streets. As the door shut behind him, something cold and sharp touched the skin of his neck.
“State your affiliation.”
To the voice, grim and cautious, the man replied calmly.
“Rejoice and revere. The moment the setting sun rises again is near.”
At the recitation of the coded verse, the blade threatening his life withdrew. Removing his hood revealed a middle-aged man with a scar running across his cheek. Though his face was gaunt and his skin weathered by years, his eyes still gleamed sharply.
When he opened the door ahead, those already gathered greeted him with relief. A younger man, his expression cold and precise, bowed respectfully.
“You’ve arrived, Sir Hamel.”
“Sir Bennet. I don’t see Dolores.”
“She’s meeting a broker in Mondena. Even if things go well, we won’t hear back before tomorrow.”
“I see.”
As Hamel nodded and stood before the table, Bennet cautiously asked,
“The funds…?”
“They should come through as planned. What of the mercenaries?”
“Because of the recent murder, the royal family is sweeping through the mercenary guilds. Most are lying low. We’ll have to wait until winter passes before we can gather any significant numbers.”
A subordinate beside Bennet added matter-of-factly,
“Still, this may be a good time to stir public sentiment.”
“That’s true.”
“We’ve already reached out to the bait.”
“Well done, Sir Bennet. And what of the letters I sent?”
They had discreetly contacted several houses likely to share their cause.
“Most replies were favorable. Our efforts to sift through information seem to have paid off.”
Even with the good news, Hamel’s expression did not ease. He issued a stern warning.
“I’ve said this countless times—make sure the mad dog doesn’t catch our scent.”
“Rest assured. I hear he’s too busy cleaning up that case to notice anything else.”
“He has the instincts of a beast. There’s no harm in staying vigilant.”
Having once served under him, Hamel knew exactly how dangerous the man was. If Jerome Flint was called the King’s Shield, then Tyraine May was the blade sharpened in cold silence—one that would cut even his own house in two without hesitation.
The hated man’s face blurred in Hamel’s mind, replaced by another. His lips twitched slightly.
“You seem in good spirits, my lord,” his adjutant, Coon, remarked.
Hamel shrugged lightly. “I happened to see her.”
“Her, you mean…”
“There was no chance to greet her.”
At the banquet he had attended to meet one of their financiers, he had glimpsed a long-missed face. Of course, the timing could not have been worse. Seeing her standing beside that traitor had nearly torn his heart apart, but behind the dull mask, Hamel had only bitten his lip.
Please wait just a little longer. I’ll rescue you from that betrayer and return you to the place where you truly belong.
“I heard she’s allowed outside now, but to think it was really true…”
He had long since found the mansion where she was confined, but the guards were too tight for contact. Even when she went out, she was always accompanied by watchful attendants. Any attempt to bribe a servant risked exposing his group’s existence.
“The plan might unfold sooner than we thought.”
If she was allowed outside, there might be a chance to meet her—and seize an opportunity.
Hamel’s calm voice tightened the air in the room. Yet when he looked around at the hopeful eyes surrounding him, he spoke quietly,
“Begin preparing yourselves. The day we repay our humiliation is drawing near.”
Meanwhile, in a drawing room of a mansion in the capital, a strange tension hung in the air.
“What’s this little bean?”
Under Lineth’s rude, probing gaze, the young boy replied flatly,
“You’re hardly a giant yourself.”
Their eyes clashed—crack!—sparks seemed to fly. Folding her arms with a scowl, Lineth muttered her name curtly.
“Lineth Sandria.”
“Sillekion. Call me Kion.”
Neither bothered with formalities. Then again, mages from different nations rarely got along. Their approaches to magic differed wildly, and exchanges were scarce.
Of course, their hostility wasn’t only because of that.
“Now, now, calm yourselves. We’re all in the same boat, after all.”
A languid voice slipped between them. A silver-haired man in luxurious clothes, already seated, spoke in a gentle tone.
“Kion.”
“…I’ll cooperate for the duration of our agreement.”
“Please don’t take it too harshly, High Priest. As the Duke, I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
Facing Lineth’s obvious displeasure, Raymond recalled the deal that had started this mess.
I wondered what sort of demand she’d make in exchange… and she asked to borrow a mage from me.
And he, foolishly intrigued by her promise to share a secret in return, had agreed.
Once he’d learned the truth of magic, he finally understood why those two had always been so wary of him—and what that strange sense of unease had been each time they met.
Especially impressive had been her audacity to request Kion, his most trusted mage, of all people. When he’d asked whether she wasn’t afraid of her secrets being stolen, her reply had been amusing:
“You can dig through me all you like. You won’t find a thing.”
If she could boast so confidently, perhaps the rumors were true—Lady Cordelia really had no interest in politics. Or perhaps she only pretended not to. Either way, she was no simple opponent.
He almost regretted not attending that banquet himself.
No matter how tightly he ordered people’s lips shut, gossip always spread faster than speech itself. When Raymond had heard what Cordelia did at the banquet, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
To think she’d actually cut her own hair in front of everyone—to mock her opponent so openly!
A fascinating young lady indeed. Sharp-witted, yet bold beyond his own knights.
Honestly, a woman that entertaining might not have been a bad match for him. But for now, he decided to be content just watching.
“Well, fine. Since we have to work together, no point keeping our claws out.”
With a sigh, Lineth unrolled a scroll onto the table. While her master barely glanced at it, Kion examined the drawn sigil closely.
“This is…”
The circular diagram, a little over half-finished, was an exact copy of the magic circle that had appeared on Noah’s back.
At least she didn’t need to explain it. Pointing to a blank section, Lineth said,
“First, we’ll finish this magic circle. We’ll need it for the unbinding ritual.”
“A curse? The pattern looks… unusual for one.”
“I’m treating it as a curse for now.”
Three things were required for an unbinding spell: the original curse sigil, a specially prepared potion, and a physical piece connecting the caster and the victim.
Since Noah’s role resembled that of a medium, perhaps his hair or nails might suffice—but that was a question for after completing the circle.
Lineth had no intention of giving up on finding the old woman. Everything would be solved once they found her—but in a city as crowded as an anthill, finding one peculiar ant was no easy task.
“As you know, most magic circles use the ancient language Sente—it’s the most stable and well-researched. But this one isn’t purely Sente. For example, here.”
Kion pointed at a few twisted characters on the right edge of the diagram.
“These resemble Illataic script.”
“Oh, right! I wondered what those were. But Illataic—that’s…”
“A native language of Tritan. Possibly a dialect of its ancient form.”
At the mention of the autonomous territory of Tritan, Lineth’s expression grew grave.
“So the caster might be from there?”
That could mean political trouble. Tritan and Cladan—the only two autonomous regions in the Kingdom of Kraitz—each had separate laws regarding magic. It was said that independent mage circles still existed there, free from the temple’s control.
“I’m not certain,” Kion said coolly, cutting her off.
Lineth eyed him suspiciously. “And how do you know this language?”
“By chance.”
He twitched an eyebrow, clearly disliking questions about his past. Lineth, uninterested in prying, shrugged it off.
“Anyway, there’s something I’ve been wondering.”
Both turned toward the silver-haired man, who sat elegantly like an ornament and tilted his head.
“And where is the Lady, after dumping all this on us?”
“Such nice weather!”
Cordelia smiled as a soft breeze drifted in through the window. It had been well into winter, yet the southern sunlight was still warm.
She had been at Callisto Castle in Devron for a week now, far from the noisy capital.
‘I’ve smoothed things over for now, but you know as well as I do—it won’t end easily.’
After two hours of scolding, Frederick had advised her to leave the capital for a while, to quiet the rumors. For once, Cordelia had agreed—he was right.
Returning to the castle after so long was comforting. The only issue was that the butler and servants had nearly fainted at the sight of her short hair.
She absentmindedly touched the ends that barely brushed her neck. The heavy, abundant hair she’d cut away made her head feel lighter, though there was an emptiness she couldn’t quite ignore.
Well, I’ll get used to it. What else can I do?
“Ugh, I’m bored.”
I miss Noah.
She wasn’t heartless enough to drag a recovering patient on a two-day carriage ride to Devron, even if they’d only just started dating.
Still, she couldn’t help but sigh at how much she missed him.
Just then—knock, knock—a sound came from the door. Before she could even answer, it swung open.
