CHAPTER 21 –
I skimmed through the documents.
The proposal format, handwriting, and the seal at the bottom were nearly identical.
“Fabius? Most of these came from them.”
“They’re a construction guild our family works with.”
“No other guilds submitted bids?”
“We didn’t solicit bids from others specifically.”
For a house like the Ibrante family, they likely had fixed design preferences. And with more money than they knew what to do with, there was no reason to worry about cost.
So, of course they wouldn’t bother with a bidding process.
‘Just more work for no reason.’
“What happens when Fabius submits a proposal?”
“The estate manager reviews it and requests approval. Then I allocate the budget.”
“The butler doesn’t check the details, I assume.”
“If it was within budget, I approved it. Is there a problem?”
The butler wasn’t the type to collude with a construction guild to embezzle funds. The estate manager, though—he was likely the problem.
“Fire the estate manager.”
“…Did he commit embezzlement?”
I handed him two of the proposals I had been reviewing.
“This one is for a one-story livestock shed, and this one is for a four-story villa. The scale of construction is completely different, but the labor costs are almost the same.”
“You’re right…”
“There’s probably a special Ibrante-only pricing sheet at Fabius. The manager would just plug in whatever budget number they were told and send it off.”
“…”
“From now on, switch to a bidding system. Have every submitted proposal reviewed randomly by at least two administrators.”
The butler, frowning as he reviewed the proposals, suddenly turned to me.
“Did you just figure out the embezzlement now? From this huge stack?”
After being ground down under a professor famous for construction audits, I had learned how to tell from paperwork alone whether a contractor was playing games.
If I dug deeper, I’d probably find more signs of embezzlement, but I had no intention of doing so.
I was far too busy to go through every list item.
It’s not like the Ibrante family would go broke over this money.
“…Just got lucky.”
“Understood. I’ll dismiss the current estate manager and hire two replacements. Anything else you wish to order?”
[Stage 3: (Nods) How are preparations for Piace Academy going?]
“How are preparations for enrollment at Piace Academy?”
“Preparations are complete, but I haven’t submitted the paperwork.”
“Why not?”
“You mentioned withholding the donation, so I assumed you’d changed your mind. Was I mistaken?”
Ah, right. There was the donation issue too. I’d completely forgotten about it, distracted by the planning.
[Stage 3: (Irritated) Who said you could make that decision on your own?]
“Who told you to decide that on your own?”
“…I apologize.”
“Submit the enrollment paperwork and proceed with the donation as planned.”
“In that case, shall I send the two visitors away?”
“Visitors?”
“Dean Franklin and Professor Rusfell have been waiting in the drawing room for about two hours. It seems they came to request the donation.”
Rusfell hasn’t blown up the mansion even after waiting for two hours…? He really has changed.
A pang of guilt hit me square in the chest.
I glared at the innocent butler for no reason.
“Why are you only telling me now?”
“You once said there was no need to inform you of guests who arrived unannounced.”
“Ah… right, I did say that…”
Feeling awkward, I quickly glanced at the butler.
But he looked impassive, like a loyal servant who never questioned his master’s actions.
“Bring them in.”
“Yes, Master.”
A short while later—
Oswald and Rusfell, guided by the butler, arrived in the study.
Despite having waited two hours, Oswald didn’t look the least bit upset. He bowed politely.
“Thank you for making time for us, despite our sudden and unannounced visit, Your Grace… Rusfell? Aren’t you going to greet His Grace?”
“…”
Rusfell just stood there blankly. Oswald forced an awkward smile over a frustrated expression.
“As I mentioned before, Professor Rusfell is quite reserved and shy around strangers…”
“…”
“Ahem! Please accept my apology on his behalf.”
The spirits’ conversation streamed directly into my mind.
I really didn’t need them to relay their gossip telepathically…
[Oh my, what happened to Rusfell? He looks like a total shut-in who just crawled out after three years.]
[This is him looking better. Remember last time? He looked like a corpse.]
[So gloomy. I don’t even want to go near him. Gnome, what do you think?]
[…]
Spirits could be harsh—at least toward humans who weren’t their contractors.
‘He looks fine to me.’
Rusfell, who I hadn’t seen in three days, did look slightly improved compared to before.
At least his face had some color.
His lips were still chapped, but they weren’t bleeding like last time.
His skin looked a bit smoother, and the shadows under his eyes were lighter.
His bangs still covered his eyes, but—
‘He should really tidy up his hair.’
Still, it was a relief to see him outside of that coffin-like lab.
It meant he had the will to come here.
‘Is he no longer interested in me?’
The interest that had sparked when I called him “Fel” seemed to have faded.
Now, there was nothing special in Rusfell’s demeanor toward me.
If anything, it was the kind of discomfort one shows toward an annoying, burdensome presence.
‘Well…’
The fact that he had been so quiet lately was proof enough that he had lost interest.
If Rusfell were still intrigued, he would have already shown up to question me, observe me, annoy me, and set traps for me.
‘Whew, thank goodness.’
I concealed my relief as I sat down on the sofa.
“Take a seat.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Once we were seated, the butler served iced tea.
Oswald quickly gulped it down.
The butler must not have offered them anything while they waited.
“Phew, I was dying of thirst. That hit the spot.”
“What’s your business?”
“We’re here to explain the unfortunate incident at the academy and offer a formal apology.”
“Incident? Are you saying someone forced a noose around Professor Rusfell’s neck?”
Rusfell was simply overwhelmed with guilt and eventually gave up on himself.
What “truth” was supposedly hidden here?
“N-no, nothing like that. However, after an internal investigation, we confirmed that Professor Rusfell was conducting an experiment at the time.”
“Oh yes, the experiment on casting success rate and delay time while under mortal danger?”
You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?
Despite the sarcasm, Oswald’s face remained resolute.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but it was indeed an experiment. Therefore, the academy will not be dismissing Professor Rusfell.”
“Even if I withdraw my donation?”
“We understand your disappointment with the academy. Still, our decision won’t change.”
“So you came all this way just to tell me that?”
“You were clearly alarmed by what happened. We felt it was necessary to apologize properly and resolve the matter.”
This wasn’t just Oswald’s stance—it was the academy’s decision to protect Rusfell.
Even if it meant offending me, a duke.
‘Oh, I like that.’
I had no reason to dislike a workplace that valued my friend that highly.
In fact, I was proud that my friend was being recognized.
I was going to donate anyway, so I might as well let this go now.
“As for what happened that day… let’s not bring it up again.”
“Thank you. It may sound like an excuse, but Professor Rusfell genuinely didn’t expect anyone to walk in during his experiment.”
“I’ve heard that mages can completely lose track of their surroundings when focused.”
“You know exactly what I mean! Yes, that’s their big flaw. They get so absorbed that they forget where they are, even who they are!”
“Must cause a lot of problems.”
“It does! Rusfell also said he realized a lot from this incident. That he can’t keep living like this, and that he has many regrets. Right, Professor?”
Rusfell didn’t respond.
He just sat there listlessly, blinking.
Oswald nervously glanced at me.
“Rus-Rusfell, just the other day you said you wanted to come along when I visited His Grace. You wanted to apologize, didn’t you? Right?”
“…”
“Right?”
“…Ugh!”
Oswald jabbed his elbow hard into Rusfell’s arm.
‘Wait, Grandpa, talk it out! That’s the same arm he used to shift the pain to after that day!’
Completely unaware of my inner screaming, Oswald grinned and whispered to Rusfell.
“Hey, student. Why do you think your teacher’s tooth ended up like this?”
Rusfell shifted his gaze with a slightly embarrassed expression.
Didn’t Oswald break his front tooth during a failed experiment?
I sipped my tea, pretending I hadn’t heard a thing.
“Professor Rusfell, His Grace has made time for us. If you have something to say, say it sincerely… Sit up properly, will you?”
Grimacing, Rusfell rubbed his arm and then suddenly held out his hand.
“I’m sorry.”
What the—who apologizes to a duke with a handshake? We’re not even friends.
He’s still clueless about noble etiquette, I thought, suppressing a laugh—
When suddenly, a voice from Undine echoed in my mind:
[Lian, Rusfell’s mana is moving.]
