Chapter 92
Hannibal’s pupils trembled endlessly as he stared at the necklace Anne had held out to him.
Then, with both hands lowered neatly before him, he spoke as though confessing his guilt.
“Tracking functions can be embedded in all magic stones. Especially when cut like jewels, it’s common practice to assign them a unique coordinate. So yes, that gem has a coordinate. I won’t deny it.”
He continued in a calm, candid tone.
“But I did not gift it to you for that purpose. As I told you then, it was an engagement gift I had received from Oliver, and I had a commemorative necklace made from it for you. I kept the other stone for myself.”
Anne studied the necklace in her hand carefully. The piece, adorned with finely cut gems clustered together, was dazzlingly ornate—too extravagant for daily wear.
It was better suited for a banquet, or an evening like this.
It was unlike Jamie’s gift, a simple and modest design she could wear at any time.
And come to think of it, Hannibal had never once asked her to wear it daily, nor pressed her about it at all.
“Of course, I thought it could be useful in an emergency. But I never once used that feature for personal reasons. Unless you lost it, I doubt it would have ever come into use.”
“…You could have told me beforehand.”
Her voice and gaze had softened greatly without her realizing it.
The discomfort and displeasure she’d felt upon entering the greenhouse earlier hadn’t been solely his fault.
Already troubled by Grey’s necklace, being asked to dine in the same greenhouse where Grey had chased her down only worsened her mood.
“I should have told you in advance. Forgive me.”
Seeing him bow his head deeply in apology, Anne felt almost guilty for pressing further. After looking at the crown of his bowed head for a moment, she glanced around the greenhouse.
Unlike the last time, it was now decorated with a variety of trees and flowers, large and small.
The table set before them was lavishly adorned with fine tableware, ribbons, flowers, and candles.
As her heart softened, she realized just how much care he had put into preparing the space.
“Hannibal.”
“…Yes?”
Startled at the sudden sound of his name, he immediately raised his head. His violet eyes met her face.
“I forgive you.”
A slow, radiant smile spread across his face. Anne also returned a gentle smile.
“Anne, could you… call my name once more?”
At that request, Anne spoke slowly.
“Hannibal.”
“Yes.”
He answered with joy and gently closed the fingers of her outstretched palm, curling them around the necklace once again.
“This necklace belongs to you. If you dislike it, you may throw it away, but don’t return it to me.”
The look on his face suggested he would be devastated if she ever discarded it.
Anne, thinking how strange it was for such a tall man to appear endearing, pulled back her hand with the necklace in it.
“Alright.”
Relieved, Hannibal signaled to the servants, and the main course was brought in.
Only then did the softened mood allow them to begin their meal in earnest.
“Earlier, did you come here to see Miss Mighty?”
“Yes. Since Victoria has begun learning magic, I was curious.”
Had his original plan gone as intended, he would have stayed to speak with her more and ask questions. But his head had been too full of Anne to do so.
Now that their misunderstanding was resolved, Hannibal felt much lighter.
He had already instructed his people to gather more information about Luto, so there was no rush to pry further into Miss Mighty.
Sensing his preoccupation, Anne spoke casually.
“I’ll go with you sometimes. The young lady seems very interested in magic, and I think the Archmage has taken a liking to her as well.”
“Yes, I’d appreciate that. And please also guide Victoria in matters of etiquette.”
With negotiations with Luto approaching, Hannibal clearly worried that even the smallest slip could be used against them.
To his eyes, his younger sister was still only a reckless child.
Though he fretted constantly, he hadn’t stopped Victoria from learning magic—something Anne thought showed their bond had grown better.
But his worry seemed excessive. Miss Mighty had shown no displeasure at Victoria’s excitable nature, instead smiling fondly the whole time.
“Still, Luto seems to place less emphasis on formalities than Hyman. Perhaps because it’s a land of magicians.”
“Yes. It’s a country where ability as a magician is valued above status or rank, so life there is freer.”
Even about the western lands, Anne had only learned much after coming here—about Luto, she knew even less.
Hannibal explained patiently.
“In Luto, there is no separate line of royals or nobles. According to their law, the greatest archmage of the age is chosen as the next king. Usually, a great magician produces gifted children, but the current king, Alejandro III, did not. So for the first time in a century, a non-royal—Miss Mighty—was appointed as heir.”
What? No royal or noble lineage at all? Anne was stunned; the neighboring nation seemed like another world.
“But doesn’t Miss Mighty’s surname ‘Luto’ mean she’s part of their royal bloodline? Do they inherit the name even without being related?”
Hannibal answered at once.
“In Luto, only the king and heir take the nation’s name. So Miss Mighty already bearing that surname means she is the certain successor and a magician of unmatched ability.”
“But if a more talented magician appears, wouldn’t things change immediately? Wouldn’t that cause political chaos?”
“That is why, once crowned, a king rules until death. By ability alone, Miss Mighty Luto is already superior to the aging king.”
A country where only archmages who inherit the nation’s name could rule…
To Anne, raised in a rigid caste society, it was astonishing.
Then why hadn’t Assad Clayde, also known as an archmage, become king? The question flickered in her mind, but unwilling to spoil the recently lightened mood, she asked something else instead.
“In that case, wouldn’t succession struggles there be even fiercer than in Hyman? Yet Miss Mighty has stayed here quite a while, which means she has no real rivals.”
That meant her ability was overwhelming, and Luto was politically stable—something the West had even more reason to be wary of.
“Yes. Which is why we must be more vigilant while she remains here.”
“I understand.”
“I’m sorry to burden you, but please watch carefully, in case Miss Mighty harbors any hidden intentions while teaching Victoria.”
“Yes, I’ll be cautious.”
He had already confided his unease about Miss Mighty’s unclear motives to Anne.
The two of them had pondered it many times, but with no clear answers, all they could do was wait for more information.
“By the way, has the magic circle been fully repaired?”
Feeling the air too heavy, Anne swiftly changed the subject.
“Yes. Magic is truly wondrous. With a mere gesture, she restored shattered stones back into place.”
“That’s great. I was amazed by the teleportation scroll, too. Does the circle work the same way?”
“Yes. Would you like to see it?”
The circle was atop Tegenes’s outer wall—not far, and a perfect excuse for an outing.
Leaving their guards below and walking the walls in the spring breeze would make for a pleasant date.
Hannibal’s natural suggestion was one Anne readily accepted.
“Tomorrow at noon then, we’ll dine together and go for a walk.”
“Alright.”
Even after finishing their meal, they lingered, strolling around the greenhouse before setting plans for the next day.
It was strange.
On her way here alone, the path had felt so long and burdensome with her troubled thoughts. But walking back now, it felt far too short.
When they reached the entrance of the main house, both fell silent, neither taking another step.
“……”
“……”
They could easily part ways for their rooms, yet neither moved.
“My lord.”
Just then, a servant called for Hannibal, and Anne quickly broke her gaze away.
How distracted she had been—staring at him as if entranced.
“Thank you for this evening.”
“And I, as well.”
After a polite bow, Hannibal turned away. Anne lingered, watching his back before reluctantly heading inside, weighed by an odd reluctance.
If only things could remain this peaceful between them.
But she could not surrender to happiness alone. The memory of Grey Benton’s presence still lingered sharply in her mind.
No—until he left, she could not lower her guard.
Meanwhile, Count Arthur and Duke Benton often gathered for drinks, weaving their schemes.
If the Count spread rumors openly, people would suspect ulterior motives and not believe them.
So Grey carefully instructed him on how to let whispers spread more naturally.
“Since the servants haven’t caught on yet, make it more specific. Perhaps mutter about it in a drunken ramble…”
“Yes, yes, I know. I won’t bungle it. Enough nagging.”
Annoyed at his lectures, Count Arthur scowled, and Grey, for the sake of their goal, held back his irritation.
“Of course, I trust you. I’m only impatient, so please understand.”
“Hmm. Very well. I’ll do my part.”
Sensing it was time to shift the subject, Grey asked about his companion’s day.
“I hear you visited the main house earlier. What business brought you there?”
He feigned casualness, but he had already heard that Count Arthur had tried to enter the underground vault that afternoon, only to be driven out by guards.
“What, that rumor reached you too? Imagine needing my son’s permission just to see my own family’s heirlooms! Absurd!”
In truth, Grey had bribed a servant for such information.
It wasn’t the first time Arthur had attempted entry. He had even been caught sneaking in like a thief late at night or early dawn.
Clearly, he was after something.
“What sort of heirloom are you so desperate to see?”
“An… ah, never mind. Something.”
Mindful of family secrets, the Count would not say more. Grey filled his cup smoothly.
“In any case, you need to sneak into that vault, don’t you?”
“…Yes. Hmph. At this rate, I might need a magician’s help.”
Frustrated, Count Arthur thumped his chest. Grey’s voice dropped low and sly.
“In that case… what if I provided you with a tool that could deceive the eyes of men?”
