ISMFB 15

                                                             CHAPTER 15

A Neatly Torn Piece of Paper.

It was, after all, a fragment of the scribbles she had been sending him.

When Magnus spotted Margaret’s handwriting, he asked sharply:

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“I don’t know what kind of conversation the Tower Lord had with Father, but I’m sure his feelings for Mother haven’t changed. He cherishes her, which is probably why he hates Obel so much.”

Magnus tried hard not to show any reaction, even though the words hit home.

“Maybe asking about the ‘mermaid’ was just a pretense. In truth, I think he sent you to track traces of Mother.”

“…Don’t go making assumptions about him. You’re just trying to disguise bribery through me with some noble-sounding excuse!”

He reminded himself not to forget that she was a cunning child.

Sensing an ulterior motive, Magnus became wary.

“I know what you want. Do you really think giving me a few scribbles will make me treat Duke Obel?”

“It would be a lie to say I expect nothing in return. But that doesn’t mean sharing memories is a bad thing.”

“…”

“She’s the mother who gave birth to me.”

Magnus was struck by a sudden realization.

What he saw as the loss of a precious student was, for Linaria, the loss of her one and only mother.

In the end, he reluctantly snatched the paper.

“You should’ve sent something like this by mail.”

“Then how would I know it arrived safely? It’s precious—what if it gets thrown away on the way?”

It was a reasonable concern, considering she had stormed out of the manor saying she would never return.

With a guilty conscience, Magnus couldn’t argue.

“But I trust you.”

Linaria gave a faint smile.

Seeing her expression, Magnus blushed.

“How can you talk about trust when we’ve barely met?! You’re so dumb!”

Hmph!

Snorting through his nose, Magnus left in a huff.

And a few days later, he came to see Linaria again—alone.

And then again, and again, very often.

Two weeks later.

Linaria and Dante sat across from each other, sharing a meal.

The early morning dining room was filled with light chatter—a picture of domestic harmony.

Lately, they had made a habit of eating at least one meal together each day.

After the incident with the Perini mother and daughter, Dante had come to acknowledge how distant he’d been from his daughter. Since then, he had made an effort to respect her wishes.

“Come to think of it, Liri,”

Dante began casually.

“I’ve heard people have been coming and going from the Ivory Tower a lot lately. Since it wasn’t the Tower Lord himself, I didn’t bring it up, but if it has anything to do with me, I hope you’re not overextending yourself.”

“It’s just personal acquaintances.”

Linaria answered firmly.

“I’ve been studying mago-engineering recently. The exchanges continue because it’s helpful, so don’t worry.”

She wasn’t making excuses.

“Could you explain this part in more detail? I don’t quite understand it.”

That one question had opened the floodgates.

“How do you even know this? What? You studied with books at home? Who taught you? No teacher? You figured this out by yourself?!”

He bombarded her with passionate questions.

“Like you said, using this principle, it wouldn’t be hard to build a bomb. In fact, there’ve been many cases where experiments exploded mid-research.”

Their conversations had become this deep.

Her knowledge of mago-engineering came from her past life as the Crown Prince’s fiancée.

‘Back then, it was considered a proper virtue for a future empress. Especially because Her Majesty the Empress was so adamant about it.’

There was no harm in studying mago-engineering. Still, Dante couldn’t quite hide his discomfort.

‘He really doesn’t want me associating with the Ivory Tower.’

On the day the Tower Lord first visited, Dante had spoken privately, without Linaria present. What they talked about remained unknown, and Dante had been extremely tight-lipped about it—so Linaria chose not to pry.

Instead, she asked something else.

“The Tower Lord visited recently. Have you ever met him before that?”

Dante shook his head.

“He rarely appears in public. That was the first time I saw him in person. Other than us, probably only high-ranking members of the Ivory Tower have seen him face-to-face.”

“As I thought.”

Linaria nodded.

“However…”

However?

“Your mother had a direct relationship with him since their academy days. I remember her once mentioning that he seemed like a lonely person.”

Lonely.

A pitiful word for someone who had mastered a field and achieved the eternal life so many dreamed of.

“I’m saying this out of concern, but… even the Tower Lord won’t be able to cure me. Don’t overdo it.”

‘Why is he so sure of that outcome?’

She couldn’t help but question it.

In both her previous and current lives, Dante had never even received a consultation from the Tower Lord.

“Do you think mago-engineering is vulgar, too?”

“Of course not.”

Dante shook his head.

“Only narrow-minded people say things like that. I just meant the Tower Lord isn’t some all-powerful god.”

It sounded like Dante wanted her to give up on trying to save his health.

“Of course. I understand.”

Linaria pretended to agree.

But behind his back, her plans were progressing steadily.

Not just to heal her father—but to rescue Kaas, who was surely losing himself in his repeating agony by now.

Meanwhile, at that same time in the Ivory Tower, Magnus sat slouched in his chair, deep in thought.

“She was pretty sharp.”

He murmured to himself.

Clack.

The door burst open as Bruno walked in.

“What a rare thing—to hear you praise someone. Who earned such a compliment?”

“Not you, so don’t worry about it.”

Bruno chuckled and set down a pile of documents.

“Aren’t you going to nap today? You’ve been enjoying your naps quite a bit lately.”

“It’s just that I’m old and need more sleep, that’s all!”

Magnus had kept his visits to the Obel estate secret—even from Bruno—out of pride.

After brushing it off, he crossed his arms and returned to thinking, looking unusually serious.

Bruno glanced at him and assumed he was just mulling over what to have for lunch.

“Bruno.”

“Yes, sir?”

“What do kids these days like?”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know, not being one of them anymore. People my age like health supplements best.”

That was not the answer he wanted.

Magnus slumped back in his chair, then suddenly sat upright.

“Grandchildren! Yes, you must have grandchildren. Ask them.”

“…Sir.”

Bruno sighed.

As if he could have grandchildren—he hadn’t even married, thanks to Magnus.

“I’m married to mago-engineering, remember?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Magnus scowled.

“Well, even if not you, someone around here must have grandkids. Find out what they want most.”

It was a command from the Tower Lord.

And, as always, Bruno carried it out diligently.

The next day—

“Ahem. I picked this up on the way here.”

Magnus, once again using his nap as a cover, secretly visited Linaria and slid over a gift-wrapped box.

“If you picked it up, you should return it to its owner.”

Magnus looked briefly stunned.

“Do you think I literally picked it off the ground?! I paid for it! Personally selected and bought it!”

It was clear he wouldn’t leave until she accepted it, so Linaria opened the box.

Inside was—

“A… document?”

A real estate contract lay inside.

Linaria looked at him, silently asking, Are you serious?

Misunderstanding her gaze, Magnus awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Kids these days like houses, I hear.”

For reference, the average age of the mago-engineering grandchildren Bruno surveyed was seven.

“I heard girls that age also like jewelry and cosmetics, but you already have plenty of those, so I left them out.”

Bruno’s report had ranked (toy) princess playsets as the most wanted item.

“Princess playset? If you’re a princess, you’re a princess—what’s the point of selling this stuff?”

“Apparently, it lets you experience being a princess with fancy accessories, makeup, and dresses.”

“Well, I guess it makes sense to admire royalty.”

But Linaria was already the daughter of one of the five oldest noble families in the empire. She had no reason to envy royalty.

With the princess set excluded, the (toy) mansion was the next best option.

Apparently, it was considered polite to furnish it with people (dolls) inside.

‘She’ll be happy, right?’

Of course she would.

He had done thorough research on what “kids these days” liked.

Magnus even worried that the usually calm and clever girl might get so excited she’d start jumping up and down.