CHAPTER 23
It was late afternoon, the sun hanging over the ridge.
A man in a cloak sat atop a white horse, staring at the worn-out signboard for a long time.
“It’s already been a year, huh.”
It was a pub he used to frequent almost daily.
That was because Adela, who loved beer, had taken a particular liking to the house-brewed craft beer served there.
Thanks to her, he had learned the taste of beer.
He also learned what it felt like to be completely drunk—and how agonizing a hangover could be the next day.
For someone who had only ever sipped wine with meals, it was a whole new world.
Right now, inside that pub, two others who had also discovered the taste of beer thanks to Adela would be waiting.
He wasn’t particularly glad to meet them. Seeing them would inevitably make him think of Adela.
They were probably feeling the same.
The man handed his horse over to the pub attendant and stepped inside.
There was only one table occupied.
That was because they had rented out the entire pub for the day every year to honor the anniversary of Adela’s death.
Charles, the pub owner, spotted him and smiled warmly.
Having seen him countless times back in the day, Charles didn’t make a fuss about the fact that he was a royal.
The man—Leonhart—gave Charles a nod and approached the table where the only guests sat.
A wizard and a cleric. Not a combination one would normally see in a bar.
They just stared silently into their beers, not speaking a word.
Leonhart sat down in an empty chair and pushed back his cloak.
He ran his disheveled hair back and ordered a beer from Charles.
A heavy silence hung over the table occupied by the three men.
Leonhart, who had been silent until the beer arrived, pulled something out of his coat and dropped it onto the table.
A finely folded paper doll.
It was a type of magic that didn’t emit magical energy, used for discreetly delivering messages or spying on enemy territory.
“What the hell does this mean? Who’s ‘Adrian’?”
“…She said she’s a duke.”
Leonhart furrowed his brows in displeasure.
Luspel had never been interested in anything outside of magic—not even the emperor’s name.
And after Adela’s death, even that interest had vanished.
For Luspel to know Adrian’s name so precisely was not normal.
This wasn’t just something he’d heard in passing—he’d clearly met her and had a memorable encounter.
“That’s not what I’m asking. Where did you hear the name? Did you actually meet her?”
“At the academy.”
“For what reason?”
“She said she was there for an observation…”
Observation? Adrian had been sponsoring a child recently—was it related to that?
Leonhart continued.
“And?”
“She called me ‘Pel.’”
“…What?”
“That woman called me ‘Pel.’”
For the first time, Owen, who had been silently staring into his beer, lifted his head.
He looked visibly shocked.
“Luspel, you must have misheard… No, that can’t be. Of course not.”
Luspel, strangely enough, had keener senses than even Leonhart, a swordmaster.
He could hear conversations through walls. There was no way he had misheard something spoken right in front of him.
“Hah!”
Leonhart scoffed bitterly. First him, now Luspel—he hadn’t expected Adrian to try something with him too.
“She’s crazy. Trying her tricks on you as well?”
“‘As well’…?”
“She called me ‘Leona.’”
Luspel and Owen both widened their eyes.
Luspel was Pel, Leonhart was Leona, and Owen was Wendy.
They were nicknames only Adela had used for them.
“She must’ve called up the old expedition members and done a background check on me. I was surprised at first, too.”
“Ah, background check…”
“That woman’s good at that. She can’t rest until she knows everything. I was hounded by it growing up.”
“Because she liked you?”
“She doesn’t even know what love is. She just wants to marry me and secure her place in the ducal family. That’s why she’s so obsessed with keeping me on a tight leash.”
Despite knowing Leonhart for years, this was the first time the others had heard this.
A gloomy look crossed Luspel’s face, and Owen looked downright disgusted.
“Marriage? Was this agreed upon by you?”
“As if. That woman doesn’t ask for consent. She’s the kind who believes everyone should follow her decisions.”
“Utterly creepy. But why is she suddenly pretending to be Adela?”
“Because Adela is my only weakness.”
“…So she started mimicking Adela because that’s the only way to get to you?”
Owen asked incredulously. Leonhart shrugged.
“What other reason could she possibly have to pull that kind of stunt?”
“This is the most bizarre thing I’ve ever heard. I can’t believe it.”
“I actually joined the expedition in the first place to avoid marrying her. She stayed quiet for a while, so I thought she’d given up—but turns out she was looking for another way.”
“Then why mess with Luspel? He has nothing to do with this.”
“He’s my friend. That makes him a target, too. Be careful, Owen. She’ll probably approach you next.”
Owen let out a cynical laugh. The warm and kind atmosphere he used to have was nowhere to be seen.
“Well, that’s fine by me. I’ll have the chance to guide our wicked sister into the Lord’s embrace.”
Suddenly, Luspel clutched his head.
“Hah… I didn’t know anything…”
“Luspel…”
The Spirit King had once made an offhand remark when taking Adela’s sword spirit, Lulu:
“Adela’s body is dead. But her spirit contract remains unbroken. Think about why.”
A spirit contract is a contract of the soul—meaning Adela’s soul still existed.
So if they could find a way to bring her soul back from the underworld, resurrection wasn’t impossible.
But the only ones capable of reaching the underworld were dark sorcerers.
The problem: most of them had been executed five years ago for summoning the Demon King and his 99 demon beasts into the world.
Still, the three men hadn’t given up and had been searching for surviving dark sorcerers. Every year on Adela’s death anniversary, they would gather to share information.
Even after five years, they had made no progress.
“Damn it…”
Luspel chugged his beer.
For him, Adela’s death wasn’t just a loss—it was a complete collapse.
He had been powerless.
The strength he had prided himself on meant nothing.
Years of study and experimentation had amounted to nothing.
He didn’t even want to pursue power anymore.
What was the point of magic if it couldn’t save even one beloved friend?
“I just wanted to erase it all.”
For five years, he had regretted it every single day.
He shouldn’t have shown off to her. Shouldn’t have belittled her just because she wasn’t a mage.
Shouldn’t have yelled. Or snapped. Or cursed.
Should’ve done what she asked. Drank beer with her. Taken breaks from his experiments when she told him to.
Should’ve slept when she told him to.
Luspel, who remembered everything, could not forget. The guilt only grew heavier and heavier.
Breathing had become painful. Sometimes he thought it would be easier to just die.
Just a few days ago was one of those days.
But then Adrian appeared—and saved him. Calling him “Pel.”
He knew it couldn’t be true. But he couldn’t let go of a desperate hope.
What if Adela’s soul had been watching over him, and told Adrian his name?
Maybe that’s why he’d followed the headmaster to meet her.
Maybe he’d hoped to feel Adela again.
“…Damn, I must be really messed up.”
To fall for such an obvious trick, just because of some delusion…
Luspel ran a hand down his grim face.
“No wonder she used me as an excuse to drag you in. It was because of you.”
“What did she ask you to help with?”
“She’s planning some kind of construction project for the central plaza. Said she needed a mage’s expertise, so I agreed to go to the Ibrante estate this evening.”
“Oh… that.”
“Seems like it’s already started.”
Leonhart took another swig of beer, shaking his head.
“I could’ve said no, but I wasn’t in a good place… and she felt so much like Adela. So I agreed.”
Leonhart let out a bitter laugh. He, too, had been reminded of Adela when he met Adrian.
“She’s a good actor. Even I was surprised.”
Luspel fell into thought.
It wasn’t that Adrian’s tone or actions were like Adela’s.
But the atmosphere—the way she nagged about things no one else did, with eyes full of concern…
“…No. I must’ve imagined it.”
“So, are you going to help her?”
“Why would I? She’s not Adela.”
“Good. Even if you did, I wouldn’t approve her plans.”
“You think I’m in any shape to help anyone? I can barely breathe.”
The depression that had momentarily eased while with friends returned in full force, enveloping Luspel once again.
Owen, knowing just how severe Luspel’s depression was, placed a hand on his back.
A warm energy spread through Luspel’s body.
But it didn’t last long. An even deeper sense of helplessness took over.
“…About the dark sorcerer thing… Should we just give up?”
Leonhart and Owen shook their heads firmly.
“No. I’m never giving up.”
“Me neither. And if it comes to it, I’ll even figure out how to become a dark sorcerer myself. Better that than being a powerless priest, right?”
It was a terrifying thing to say.
Especially from a priest.
But Leonhart and Luspel understood.
Who could blame a priest who had cursed God and lost his faith after the death of a friend?
Leonhart ordered another beer and raised it high.
“Shall we drink?”
“For what?”
“For the soul of the friend who’s waiting for us in the underworld.”
The three men clinked glasses and downed them in one go.
Even though the pints were large, not one of them paused midway.
Because that’s what their closest friend had done.
Beer was meant to be finished in one shot.
Empty mugs quickly piled up on the table.
As they did every year, they laughed and cried, reminiscing about Adela—until they were completely drunk.
So when a woman in a deep cloak appeared, they didn’t recognize her at all.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You really were in here getting wasted.”
