Chapter : 18
If he had been outside, it would have been understandable…
‘But I heard he was in the Magic Tower.’
Then shouldn’t he have noticed the moment I stopped coming to see him every day?
“There’s no need to apologize.”
What lay hidden beneath those generous words was indifference.
“It happens.”
Yes—my master never came to find me before I went to find him.
It was always me who sought him out.
It was always me who asked questions.
Who was curious about his daily life.
Who hovered around him.
That fact, which had always been so natural, now pierced my chest like a needle.
It was a painful realization.
The eyes of my master, staring at me in silence, suddenly felt hollow.
When I stood there quietly, saying nothing, my master spoke again.
“You must be tired. Go and rest.”
He was not curious about me.
He never sought me out.
“Good work.”
That was the line he had drawn.
Master and disciple.
Perhaps closer than the other magicians in the Tower, but nothing beyond that.
‘I’m being punished for trying to cross the line.’
I had been intoxicated by the word exception, acting as if I was somehow special to him.
This incident had served as a harsh wake-up call.
After that, I resolved never to expect anything from my master again.
To keep the line he had drawn.
Because that was the best I could do for him as his disciple.
Everett, who had remained at the site until the very end to handle cleanup, didn’t return to the temple until nearly dawn.
Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he sighed and straightened his crumpled priest’s robes.
‘…I’m exhausted.’
It was already six in the morning by the time he returned to the temple, yet he couldn’t sleep. He had to personally report the incident to the High Priest—his foster father.
‘…I wonder what Father will say when he hears that traces of narcotics were found in His Majesty’s body.’
The Archmage’s concern had been right on the mark.
It had been revealed that the Emperor had been taking a highly addictive and dependency-forming drug on a regular basis. For now, only the Imperial Physician, Archmage Achillan, and Everett knew of this fact.
The drug the Emperor had been taking was known among nobles as Rinarama—a substance used as a form of painkiller.
However, its side effects were severe. Exceeding the proper dosage or prolonged use could lead to mental instability, and in extreme cases, death.
‘…He could’ve relied on the priests instead.’
The temple and the imperial family still maintained a close relationship, so Everett couldn’t understand why the Emperor would dabble in such dangerous substances.
“You’re back.”
Owen, who had been praying since dawn, greeted him with a warm smile.
Everett looked at him silently, then bowed deeply.
“Yes, Father.”
“Good. I told you I prefer that title when we’re alone.”
Owen let out a hearty laugh, looking far less stern than usual.
He patted Everett on the shoulder encouragingly—like a kind and caring father. Yet Everett’s face remained expressionless.
Sitting down on a small chair in the prayer room, Owen spoke.
“Now then, tell me everything that happened at the palace yesterday and today.”
“Yes.”
Everett began explaining everything—from the banquet celebrating the princess’s return to the recent incidents that had unfolded.
He didn’t forget to add how outstanding Themis’s efforts had been during the chaos.
But Owen’s expression hardly changed, making Everett anxious about what the older man was thinking.
It had been ten years since Everett became his foster son under divine guidance, but Owen still intimidated him.
Even though Owen was always kind, Everett couldn’t help feeling small and tense in front of him.
“…So, I thought it might be best if Lady Themis accompanied me on this next mission.”
Because of that, whenever he said something that might go against Owen’s will, he automatically began to gauge his reaction.
“If you insist that strongly, I suppose there’s no helping it. You’ve settled everything properly with the Archmage, yes?”
Owen asked again, knowing how sensitive Archmage Achillan could be about his disciples.
“…Hmm.”
Everett hesitated at the serious question. He hadn’t actually spoken directly with Themis about it.
‘If I say I don’t know, he’ll forbid me from taking her.’
Since Themis had wanted so badly to go on this mission, Everett wanted to respect her wishes.
‘Surely she must have told him something.’
He remembered her shining eyes whenever she looked at Achillan. The unwavering gaze that followed him everywhere.
How could someone like that leave without even giving him a hint?
The Themis he knew wouldn’t do such a thing.
“Yes. And more than that, the Archmage wishes to have an audience with you, Father.”
So Everett answered firmly and shifted the topic—completely unaware of the trouble that would soon arise because of it.
Or perhaps he knew, but chose to ignore it, fearing it might ruin the chance to go on the mission with Themis.
Even though she had exhausted herself at the banquet using tremendous power, she hadn’t sought his healing.
That was proof enough of her exceptional talent.
‘Maybe she has her own reasons for wanting to go on this mission.’
Still, he had no intention of going with anyone but her.
If Owen hadn’t allowed it, Everett would have insisted until he did.
Because he couldn’t get Themis out of his mind.
From the very first moment he met her at the Magic Tower—until now.
Even after Everett left, the prayer room door remained open.
Someone else was still expected to arrive.
Creak. The door opened again, and a shadow fell across the statue of Frua, the goddess of abundance.
“May the blessings of Frua overflow.”
The man who entered was tall but gaunt, giving off a sharp, nervous impression.
It was none other than High Priest Valentia, one of the senior clergy of the temple.
After making sure no one had followed him, Valentia quietly closed the door.
“Sit down.”
Owen gestured casually, as if used to this routine.
The conversation between the two priests continued until the sun was high in the sky.
The main topic, of course, was the second terror attack that had occurred in the imperial palace.
“…Seems the rebels went to great lengths to conceal their identities. They even blew themselves up to hide their marks—cunning bastards.”
However, their perspective was somewhat different from that of Achillan or Themis.
“But our dear Archmage saw through it easily enough. At times like these, that man’s… abnormal abilities come in handy.”
For they were not the victims—
“But it’s fortunate those rebels at least fulfilled their role.”
—they were the perpetrators.
Even though people had died, Owen didn’t show the slightest hint of mourning.
To the temple, the rebels weren’t people. They were merely chess pieces.
“This should make the imperial family realize just how much they still need us.”
Lately, the Empire had been troubled by an increasing number of gates.
Even so, the Emperor, wary of the temple’s growing influence, had restricted their involvement to occasional missions.
The temple effectively held the leash on all magicians, and while that balance of power made sense, it still irritated the priests.
The treatment they received was, in their eyes, unjust.
“…Still, I can’t understand why the Archmage suddenly started meddling so deeply in imperial affairs. I was so nervous we might get caught.”
At Owen’s words, Valentia sighed.
Wasn’t this terror incident planned precisely to divert Achillan’s growing suspicion after he began digging into the princess’s assassination attempt?
And despite everything, the results weren’t bad.
‘It’s a pity the Emperor survived, but at least our initial goal was met. Smuggling the rebels into the palace paid off.’
The rebels’ goal, as always, had been the Emperor’s assassination.
Though it failed, they had succeeded in diverting Achillan’s attention.
“I hear the Archmage is tearing the Tower apart, looking for the magician who helped the rebels enter the palace and cast the self-destruction spell. I hope our side’s magician wasn’t exposed…”
“Even if he was, they’ll never trace it back to us. This is just the beginning of their downfall.”
It had taken a long time to win the rebels over to their side.
But the effort hadn’t been in vain.
A vile smile spread across Owen’s face.
