Chapter 58
Cilia gritted her teeth as she watched his figure grow smaller in the distance.
It was a kindness she had once shown him—one so brief she herself barely remembered it. Probably just a passing whim. She had admired him once, after all.
“What a lunatic. Someone shows a bit of kindness, and he just dumps it all and runs away?”
As if that ability of his was some kind of blessing?
“Then he has the nerve to show up later, acting like he’s doing me a favor?”
Everything about him was infuriatingly self-serving. He had given up because he wanted to, pushed the burden onto others because he wanted to—and yet pretended he’d done it all for someone else.
Then, the world snapped back to its original form.
The burning capital.
The shards of the shattered demonic beast scattered everywhere.
As she stared at the chaos, Cilia’s vision spun.
“Huh.”
A wave of dizziness struck her like a whip. The side effect of using too much mana was finally catching up to her.
“I’m screwed.”
Even as she muttered, she stretched out her hand to grab the shard that had fallen from the beast—a fragment of Periot. She couldn’t afford to lose it now, not after barely getting it back.
‘Before that, I should figure out how to land without dying…’
But the thought didn’t finish. Her consciousness flickered, then went dark.
When she came to, she was being carried on a stretcher. The moment she sat up, the soldiers holding it screamed.
“Uwaaaah!”
“The critical patient’s awake!”
“Don’t exaggerate. Go move someone who’s actually dying.”
For someone who’d fallen from such a height, her body was surprisingly fine. Healing magic closed up the bite on her arm as she jumped down from the stretcher. The heat radiating from all directions was intense.
“Cilia!”
The face that came running was instantly recognizable. That golden hair stood out anywhere. Wait—gold hair?
“Why are you here without a disguise?”
She’d thought he’d gone straight back to the royal palace using the teleport scroll.
“I didn’t have time. They needed help putting out the fires. You’re the one who should be getting treatment.”
Far off in the distance, the Crown Princess herself was leading the firefighting efforts. Cilia grabbed Krondel by the head, pulling him down so no one could see.
“Are you sure you should be out here like this?”
“Huh?”
“Did you forget you escaped because I helped you? If Her Highness sees you, she’ll drag you back immediately.”
“No matter what kind of sister she is, she wouldn’t do that in front of this many people.”
Krondel stood up again and supported her by the shoulder.
“Go rest.”
“I’m fine.”
“…I keep telling you not to overdo it.”
This time, he sounded actually angry. Impulsively, Cilia reached up and ruffled his golden hair, making a mess of it. Krondel just blinked, dumbfounded.
“Fleer!”
Fleer, who had followed Cilia into the capital to help the soldiers extinguish the fires, turned pale the moment she heard her name and ran over. Cilia already knew what Fleer was about to say—basically a sterner, more serious version of what Krondel had just said.
“You should be—”
“Shh.”
Cilia cut her off by pressing a finger to her lips, then promptly shoved Krondel toward her.
“Could you look after him? Keep him out of sight if possible. Use him for labor if you like, just don’t let him near the Crown Princess.”
“Look after… me?” Krondel muttered.
Fleer simply nodded. “Ah, the man from the Mage Tower. Of course.”
It was kind of nice how she agreed without question.
“Alright, then…”
Cilia opened her mana circuit and felt the energy around her.
‘The demonic beast reaching the capital… that’s partly my fault.’
She didn’t want to be as irresponsible as Illode.
Krondel and Fleer, realizing what she was about to do, each grabbed one of her hands in alarm.
“You’re not seriously thinking of—”
“The fire won’t put itself out.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry. We’ll help.”
When she turned her head, she saw someone she hadn’t noticed before—the Tower Master. Behind him stood several familiar faces she hadn’t seen in a while.
“Rose! Marin!”
“Hi, Cilia!”
Even the mage Lyman Jekalma, looking pale and weak, was there.
“You should be in bed. What about your investigation?”
“It’s mostly finished. With the capital like this, I’ll help however I can.”
Despite his trembling body, he sounded determined. The Tower Master smiled gently at Cilia.
“Seeing you open your mana circuit—I can guess what you plan to do.”
He raised a hand toward the sky, drawing a spell circle. It solidified into a massive floating stone. Other mages joined in, adding more. One by one, the floating stones formed a path leading to the tallest bell tower at the city’s center.
“We’ll help. You don’t have to carry it alone.”
“…Thank you.”
“Go! We’ll clear the way!”
Rose laughed and lifted Cilia into the air. Using that momentum, Cilia landed gracefully on one of the stone platforms and sprinted upward, stepping from one glowing rune to the next.
When she reached the highest point, she drew a massive spell circle in the air—visible to everyone below. It was still incomplete, several parts missing. Cilia clicked her tongue.
“Still not fully recovered, huh.”
She could force more mana out, but that would only burn her life away faster. And besides, she had helpers this time.
Soon, mana streams shot toward her from below—her fellow mages lending their power. The circle began to fill.
“…Hm?”
Then, unexpectedly, another surge of mana came from somewhere else—the half-ruined Mage Tower itself.
Cilia narrowed her eyes. The energy felt… different. Not human, and yet not demonic either.
“What is this…?”
Before she could figure it out, the circle pulsed, glowing with radiant energy. It was ready. Cilia didn’t hesitate.
“Now—go!”
At her shout, thunder rumbled across the sky. The air itself shivered with moisture.
Swooooosh.
Just before the fire could consume the heart of the capital, the giant rain spell activated. Water poured down in torrents.
Even from afar, people could see her clearly—Cilia standing atop the tower, drenched in rain, crimson hair darkened and clinging to her face, like some divine priestess who had called down the storm itself.
“That lady…”
Jerry, watching from a distance, clutched his little sister closer.
“Those who’ve lost their homes, this way!” someone shouted, guiding the refugees.
Jerry followed, swept along by the crowd, whispering, “That lady saved us.”
Moments later, a wide, dark carriage arrived. The refugees, including Jerry, were loaded inside, and the carriage drove off.
“Where are we going?”
Their voices faded into the rumbling rain.
* * *
A few days later.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“…”
Cilia froze mid-step, caught trying to sneak out of bed. The Count’s head chef glared at her, holding a massive pot of soup.
“I was just…”
“Resting.”
With that, he opened the lid—steam wafted up, rich with the smell of every expensive ingredient imaginable. Cilia gave an awkward smile and gestured to her hands.
“My hands are like this.”
Both were wrapped thickly in bandages. In truth, they were completely fine, but the look of frailty worked to her advantage. The chef slowly nodded… then shouted,
“Sir Fleer!”
Fleer entered at once.
“Lady Cilia says she can’t feed herself. Please assist.”
“I’ll feed her myself,” Fleer said seriously.
Cilia, trying not to laugh, whispered, “Put the spoon down.”
“But you need proper nourishment—”
“Oh, look. My hands are perfectly fine, see? I can feed myself.”
“You shouldn’t move yet.”
“Exactly. Patients shouldn’t strain themselves. Should I bring the water, then?”
“Your High— I mean, my lord! You shouldn’t!”
Krondel poked his head in through the door. That guy had only been staying at the Diamant estate as a “guest” for a few days, yet somehow had already charmed everyone. Only Royhan still treated him like a prince.
“Just water? Surely she deserves meat, too—at least let me cut it for her!”
“It’s soup,” Cilia said flatly.
Before things could get worse, Carla entered with Juline and Margaret in tow.
“Everyone, calm down. Greetings, Your Highness.”
She bowed properly to Krondel—acknowledging his royal status.
Right… Cecil Diamant and Carla already knew about him, as did Royhan.
Since Cecil had originally contacted the second prince and even lent out his greenhouse, Cilia had asked them to keep it quiet until the connection was secure. Fleer had only been told a few days ago; the others still didn’t know.
“So the man I helped was…” Fleer murmured, realization dawning.
Carla nodded at her, then turned to Cilia.
“You really went through a lot.”
“Well… it was quite a day,” Cilia admitted, nodding.
“But I’m fine now.”
“I don’t think that’s something someone who was unconscious for three days should say.”
Indeed, after the capital fire, Cilia had collapsed again and slept for three days straight, worrying everyone sick.
“I’m completely fine now,” she insisted, swinging her arms around for emphasis.
Carla watched her for a moment, then struck suddenly.
“…Then you’ll be able to attend the royal ball.”
“What?”
Carla drew something from behind her back—a sealed envelope bearing the royal crest.
“It’s from His Majesty and the Crown Princess. I was going to send a polite refusal, thinking you were still unwell…”
“…”
“But I see that won’t be necessary.”
Cilia sighed. Sure, she had her reasons, but after skipping out on an appointment with the Crown Princess, showing up again would be… awkward.
“…Maybe I should pretend I’m still sick?”
Carla’s expression said not a chance.
“Let’s start preparing.”
