Chapter 30
“That can’t be.”
The voice that answered him was completely unexpected.
A gust of wind blew, sweeping away all the dust.
Deborah, who had braced herself, expecting to be torn apart by the magical bomb, slowly opened her eyes.
The first thing that came into view was a massive wall made of ice.
The solid wall had withstood the magical explosion and completely protected Deborah.
And standing atop it was someone.
Seeing the deep blue shirt she had gifted, Deborah cautiously called out.
“…Wi-Winter?”
As if responding to the call, the woman atop the wall turned her head.
Her flawless black hair swayed like a curtain, and her radiant golden eyes shone with a light that could make one believe in gods.
A gentle smile followed, along with her voice.
“Hello, Deborah.”
Winter was unharmed.
“Miss!”
Deborah cried out, overwhelmed with emotion.
Winter examined Deborah, whose body was torn and battered with wounds, and then turned her gaze toward Hirkan. Her eyes, as cold as a frozen lake, glared at him.
“How dare you touch my Mei’s loyal servant?”
It was a strange point at which to show anger, but no one was in a position to point that out.
Soon, the wall of ice melted and descended lightly as Winter looked at the wreckage of the magical bomb, clicking her tongue softly.
“Tsk, this wasn’t meant to be used like this.”
Winter had not expected to encounter Aisel’s invention here.
She thought she would need to contact Leart immediately upon returning to the mansion to ensure proper customer management.
“Shall we have a serious talk, Hirkan?”
Winter spoke with a face devoid of any hint of a smile.
“D-damn it!”
Hirkan staggered backward in shock, only to notice someone else behind him.
“You…!”
It was Medilliane, blocking any chance of escape.
Deborah quickly moved beside Winter, drawing her sword.
Looking at Hirkan, completely surrounded, Winter let out a small laugh.
“There will be a lot to discuss when we return to the duke’s house, right?”
“I will make him confess everything he knows.”
Medilliane replied, her eyes fixed on Hirkan’s forehead.
Hirkan could clearly imagine the torture methods that would be employed—he knew her well enough for that.
He hastily reached for a teleportation scroll to escape.
Of course, Winter and Medilliane blocked that as well.
“Ugh, ughhh!”
Hirkan rolled on the floor, clutching his battered wrist.
The wind magic meant to just tear the scroll had overshot its range, ripping other things as well.
“Oops. My mistake.”
Winter clicked her tongue lightly and approached Hirkan.
Hirkan, his forehead marked with veins of intense pain, stammered.
“H-how…?”
“Hm?”
“I-I was sure… sure you were a frost-type mage…”
“Ohh.”
In this world, it was common knowledge that a person could only control one type of magic.
Hirkan, having only seen Winter use ice magic all the way here, had assumed she was a frost mage.
In reality, she was not.
“That’s just the easiest one for me to use, so I tend to use it often.”
At Winter’s hint, Hirkan was struck dumb.
“Is it okay to tell him?”
Medilliane glanced at Winter. She wasn’t surprised that Winter could use two types of magic.
Winter nodded in agreement.
“Yes. It’s fine.”
Her cold gaze returned to Hirkan.
“Even if he knows, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone.”
After all, unless someone was a grand mage, they would not believe that a person could wield more than one type of magic.
Besides, Winter’s magic control was tricky, and her healing spells were poor—she couldn’t even be called a grand mage.
“Don’t heal his wrist. Just leave it.”
“Yes, understood.”
Following Winter’s order, Medilliane began tying up Hirkan, who was rolling on the floor.
Winter didn’t mind at all, even if another injury was inflicted unintentionally.
Once they returned to the duke’s house, Hirkan would become the first to bear the infamy of her ‘wrist collector’ reputation. And if they managed to discover who had hired someone to kill her, there would be far more wrists to add to the tally.
“Um, Miss…”
“Yes?”
Deborah suddenly stepped in front of Winter, brimming with determination.
“Pl-please cut my wrist too!”
“What…?”
Deborah, earnest as anyone, held out both hands and clenched her eyes shut as she shouted.
Winter was dumbfounded at this sudden offer.
But Deborah was more sincere than anyone.
Hastily pulling out her magical tool from her waist, Deborah quickly explained, her face blazing red.
“I-I stole your magical tool! I’m really sorry! And I said bad things to you, even for a moment, and you had to go through unnecessary trouble because of me, and also…”
As she spoke, the situation became serious.
Deborah felt a little tearful over her pathetic, foolish behavior.
“A mere wrist… maybe I should offer my ankles and neck too,” she thought, eyes flickering with determination.
Winter, reading her thoughts as if they were open, let out a soft chuckle.
Had anyone else done what Deborah did, there would have been no forgiveness. But Winter, knowing what Deborah might do in the future, waved it off as a minor annoyance.
“Forget it. Just follow me like my own hands and feet for now, running errands.”
Deborah’s eyes shone like never before as Winter nonchalantly accepted the magical tool Deborah handed over and turned away.
Having tied Hirkan up tightly in the carriage’s hold, they prepared to depart.
They would need a new carriage and driver, but thankfully, it wasn’t far to the duke’s house.
No wonder the assassins had fought desperately.
“May.”
Medilliane, inspecting the carriage, looked up as Winter approached.
Winter whispered into his ear.
“By the way… is your magic a secret?”
Medilliane’s lips curved slightly.
“Why?”
“Just… a feeling I had.”
He had shown no difficulty using magic throughout the journey, yet never revealed his full power in front of others.
“Yes, that’s right.”
Medilliane nodded lightly.
“Officially, in the secret guard, I’m supposed to be unable to use magic.”
“Why?”
Medilliane, after a moment’s thought, answered honestly.
“The lord said it would be best not to stand out too much.”
Even with his noticeable appearance, Medilliane had always disguised himself or hidden his face when on missions.
He was skilled in swordsmanship; it wasn’t necessary to show off his healing magic as well. That was Duke Vladimir’s reasoning.
“Makes sense. Healing can be done by a doctor or a priest anyway.”
Winter nodded in silent agreement.
Medilliane smiled faintly at her, realizing that Winter had no idea how he actually used healing magic.
He had no intention of telling her.
“Miss! There you are!”
Suddenly, Deborah appeared in the middle of their whispered conversation.
“Uh-huh.”
Winter stepped away from Medilliane, recalling previous times when Deborah had interrupted them, glaring from the middle.
“You’re here too, Dylan?”
But why was Deborah now wary of Medilliane, instead of Winter?
Medilliane, sensing her intent, smirked.
“Already switched sides?”
“Switched sides? I’ve always been your follower, Miss!”
“…Suddenly?”
Winter was equally confused.
“I… I was foolish at first and didn’t understand your true nature, Miss, but…”
Deborah spun around to face Winter, blushing, twisting her body in embarrassment.
“Now I understand why Dylan follows you. Your strength! Your beauty! And even your kindness!”
Her dreamy, mesmerized eyes spoke.
“Anyone couldn’t help but fall for you.”
“R-really?”
Winter laughed awkwardly. Medilliane’s gaze became icy.
Deborah, who had been annoying already, now felt even more like a thorn in Medilliane’s eye.
“Why that look, Dylan? Miss! I’m so scared!”
“…”
Scared, my foot.
Winter felt awkward as she watched Deborah provoke Medilliane without flinching.
Weren’t they supposed to have a master-servant relationship?
“Di-Dylan?”
Calling him cautiously, Medilliane let out an audible sigh.
Deborah’s protection by Winter, a smaller and weaker figure, was clearly infuriating him.
“I’m liking her less and less.”
Medilliane left abruptly, looking clearly sulky.
Winter chuckled at his visible pout.
Then she reminded Deborah.
“Deborah.”
“Yes, Miss?”
“Be careful at night for the time being.”
“Y-yes…”
Deborah hesitated as fear finally struck, answering timidly.
But it only lasted a moment. She quickly regained her energy, following Winter, chattering incessantly.
“At first I found it strange. Dylan treated no one so kindly except for Summer.”
“Summer?”
Winter frowned slightly at the unfamiliar name, never heard in the original story.
“Who’s that?”
“A very dear one.”
Deborah pouted.
“Summer…”
Winter muttered under her breath, already noticing that Medilliane had disappeared from sight.
For some reason, the name struck her unusually.
