A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 114: Bachelor of the Mage Tower (2)

Ihelm’s appearance had changed noticeably since I last saw him in Berhert. He was thinner now, his face pale and hollowed.

"Have you been cutting back?" I asked.

“... They say it’s hard to stomach someone else’s success. Watching you thrive makes life miserable. The world feels stifling, like I’m choking on every breath.” Ihelm sneered, his smile twisted with bitterness.

I observed the magical energy flickering around him with my Sharp Eyesight and said, “You’ve made progress, despite it all.”

“... Don’t assume you understand me. What could you possibly know?”

The Ihelm I once knew had never been a particularly outstanding named mage. Sure, his raw talent surpassed Deculein’s, but compared to other powerful named figures, he had always fallen short. Yet now, the purity of his mana was beyond anything I had anticipated.

“Hmph. How curious. I once lived off whiskey, brandy, vodka, tequila—whatever I could find from the archipelago. Yet somehow, my magical insight is sharper than ever,” Ihelm continued, tilting his head slightly, his red eyes fixed on me. “Is this your handiwork as well, Deculein, esteemed Head Professor?”

"Naturally. It appears I possess a talent for awakening the magical potential in others."

“... Ha,” Ihelm said, letting out a dry laugh, but his face quickly twisted in fury. "Deculein, I still can’t figure out what’s going on in that twisted mind of yours. What exactly are you intending to do with Luna’s daughter?"

I remained silent.

"You didn’t expel her from the Mage Tower. Instead, you accepted her as an assistant when you had every opportunity to dismiss her."

I settled back into my chair in silence.

Ihelm, however, leaned forward, encroaching on my space as he continued, “I’ve given it much thought. If you were anything like Decalane, I might have understood your reasons for keeping her. But you are nothing like him.”

Just then, a voice rang in my mind, like a warning bell—Idnik’s voice.

"... I just assumed you might have killed her by now. Because Decalane was the one who discovered her first."

"Ha—!" Ihelm scoffed. "What’s the matter? Have you started to feel pity for her?"

I paid him no mind, allowing his words to drift past me. My thoughts shifted back to Decalane and the words he had left behind in his diary.

"... I am the artificial intelligence created by Master Decalane, tasked with evaluating the most suitable successor for the family."

Decalane, the former head of the Yukline family, had not been satisfied with either Yeriel or Deculein. In his eyes, both had failed. If that were true, perhaps Decalane had been searching for a new heir—someone other than Deculein or Yeriel, someone capable of carrying on the Yukline name in all its glory. Epherene may have been that candidate.

“Have you developed pity for Luna’s daughter? After all this time, did you finally begin to feel sorry for her? Watching that miserable girl day after day—did it make you want to play her father? Or perhaps,” Ihelm sneered, “you’ve been looking at her with other intentions, maybe even her body?”

I shot a glance at Ihelm, briefly entertaining the thought of crushing his face on the spot.

“... Hmph. It doesn’t matter what happens—the announcement of the new Chairman will likely come this week,” Ihelm said, his tone taking on a sharp edge. “At the formal hearing, I intend to reveal everything—our past, Luna’s daughter, and all the dealings between the Yukline family and Luna. I will expose it all.”

Ihelm continued to ramble, mentioning things I wasn’t even aware of. With a smirk, he added, “Let’s fall together, Deculein.”

He began to rise from his seat, but I activated Telekinesis. His hand, gripping the iron handle of the chair, was forcibly pressed back down.

“Let go,” Ihelm demanded, struggling against the force, but my Telekinesis was beyond the strength of an ordinary mage like him.

Clatter— Crash—!

Ihelm thrashed about, rattling his chair before finally sinking back into it.

“If you continue like this, Ihelm, you won’t live to see the hearing,” I warned.

“Pfft. Is that so?” Ihelm responded with a mocking smirk. “You may not realize it, but I’ve been dead ever since the day you took everything from me.”

“Then I’ll see to it that you die once more.”

“Go ahead, try,” Ihelm said as he stood.

Watching him stumble toward the door, still bound to the chair, amused me, so I released my Telekinesis. He shoved the chair aside, rubbing his wrist as he exited.

Bang—!

The door slammed shut, and silence settled over the office. Left alone, I began sorting through the thoughts swirling in my mind—Epherene, Luna, Yukline, Decalane, Ihelm. Their tangled pasts, like webs, stretched out in all directions.

As I reflected on these connections, I turned toward the window. My unfamiliar reflection stared back at me from the darkened glass. I noticed that I was frowning, an uncommon display of anger.

“The reason I took Epherene in,” I murmured, revisiting Ihelm’s question. The answer was clear, requiring no second thought.

... Now or in the distant future, she will always be my protégé.

***

Thud—!

Back in the assistant’s research lab, Epherene set the stack of documents down on her desk. A hundred pages—nothing too difficult. With calm resolve, she rolled up her sleeves and got ready to begin.

Ding—!

The alarm on her Wizard Board chimed. Startled, Epherene immediately turned her gaze to the screen. A quiet exclamation escaped her lips.

The post titled “Seeking Information on the Mage Tower’s History from 10 to 15 Years Ago” had been deleted.

Reason: Time limit exceeded.

Epherene had been investigating the history of Deculein and her father during their years together at the Mage Tower, 10 to 15 years ago. She had even offered a reward for anyone who could provide the information.

“One hundred elne might have been too little,” Epherene muttered.

Given that even basic lecture notes sold for over five hundred elne, one hundred was clearly insufficient. With trembling hands, she adjusted the price and rewrote the post.

Seeking information on the history of the Mage Tower from 10 to 15 years ago. Reward available.

: If you have knowledge or can connect me with someone who does, I will pay six hundred elne.

“Six hundred elne should do,” Epherene muttered. With that, she shifted her focus back to her studies. “Now... let’s see.”

She opened the first page. The introduction detailed the significance of inventing a new Pure Element and explored the potential for developing a new series of element magic based on the four-categories. After skimming through, she turned to the next page.

“Huh?”

The content didn’t flow. The first and second pages felt disconnected. From the second page onward, complex spells appeared abruptly, as if sections of the text had been omitted.

"Did the professor mix up the order?" Epherene thought, absentmindedly brushing her fingers over the first page. As she did, the page flipped on its own.

"... Ah."

It was only then that she realized these weren’t ordinary sheets of paper—they were cutting-edge magical paper. Each page held the equivalent of 300 pages of content. In other words, with 100 sheets, she now had...

“... 30,000 pages.”

She had roughly a month to complete her task, but there were 30,000 pages of material to sift through.

“Oh no...” Epherene muttered as a sudden tension gripped the back of her neck.

It was as if a hammer had struck her forehead, sending sharp pain through her skull. The world around her grew distant and overwhelming.

***

Meanwhile, deep within the underground chambers of the Intelligence Agency...

"... Hmm."

The room was packed with millions of sheets of paper, documents, taxidermied and preserved strange creatures, and illegal grimoires written by the Ashes. The Intelligence Agency's Record and Evidence Storage Room, known as the Purple Room for its violet wallpaper, housed countless artifacts. In the center, Primien sifted through information related to Cielia.

“Fuck.”

Investigating someone’s life had always been tedious, especially when it was impossible to trace an individual's exact path through their own account.

“Ah, fuck, this isn’t it either.”

A human life was shaped by the people around them. Humanity was defined through interactions and connections with others. Without these relationships, without the presence of others, one could no longer be truly considered human.

“Fucking hell.”

For this reason, Primien examined everyone connected to Cielia. Piecing together someone’s timeline was tedious work, a task she hadn’t dealt with since her early days at the agency.

“This is all because of that damn professor,” Primien muttered to herself. As she sifted through the evidence pile, she came across a piece of burnt letter. “And what is this letter?”

Though mumbled to herself, her question was answered by an agent in the uniform of the Intelligence Agency, who explained, “Ah, that? It’s officially called a Letter of Fortune, a type of chain letter.”

Primien glanced down and began reading its contents.

Anyone who read this letter would be cursed within three days. The curse could only be broken by passing the exact contents of the letter to at least three other people. If it was shared with more than five, the following day would bring great fortune...

“Fucking ridiculous.”

The agent responded, “The people who received that letter truly died from the curse. It ended up killing hundreds.”

“Ah,” Primien muttered, swiftly tossing the letter aside and brushing off her hands, as if to rid herself of the bad luck.

“That case was quietly buried by the Magical Realm. It happened over ten years ago, so you likely wouldn’t have heard of it, Deputy Director.”

“... Magic really is strange... and completely absurd.”

“That letter isn’t magic. It is a demon.”

“Demon? This scrap of paper?”

“Yes. There are demons that exist physically, others that manifest as phenomena, and some that are concepts. This letter belongs to the type that manifests as a phenomenon.”

Primien nodded at the agent’s explanation and said, “Hmm. I see you’ve learned well, having worked under that asshole—well, the professor.”

“Yes, it comes naturally. The books in the professor’s study are all like that.”

Primien cast a glance at the agent beside her, who was sifting through the contents of the Purple Room.

“There are also hospital records for Cielia and Sylvia here. It seems they visited quite frequently in the past,” the agent continued.

The Purple Room was a space where neither surveillance nor eavesdropping could occur. A crystal orb hung from the ceiling, but it recorded video only, with no audio. The room was ideal for secret meetings.

“358 people died from that letter ten years ago... and the one who put an end to it was Decalane, the former head of the Yukline family,” Primien muttered as she scanned the records on the Letter of Fortune. "Quite the death toll."

“Yes.”

“If Cielia is tied to this case, I’ll need to investigate all 358 of those victims.”

“That is likely the case.”

“Fucking hell. I’m not a junior anymore,” Primien muttered flatly. The agent beside her stifled a laugh at her frustration. “And as if things weren’t bad enough, we’re in a bear market, and now I’m stuck with grunt work. I knew recruiting that professor was a mistake. Maybe I should just wish for the world to end tomorrow.”

“Oh, don’t worry~ Even so, Professor Deculein will handle Sylvia without any trouble.”

Primien shot a cold glance at the agent in disguise, her gaze icy as she said, “... You seem to admire someone who’s committed mass murder against your own people.”

“It hasn’t come to that yet. Besides, I’m here to make sure it never does,” Allen—no, Ellie—replied calmly.

Primien clicked her tongue as her thoughts drifted to a memory from not too long ago.

“Ellie.”

“Yes?”

It happened when Bethan had recommended the Rotaili soup at the Hadecaine restaurant. She had declined it, simply because she didn’t care for mushrooms, and Deculein had made a remark to her afterward.

"Primien, do you know something?"

“What do you mean?”

"We previously met in Berhert, didn’t we? We dined together at a restaurant there."

“We’ve met in Berhert before,” Primien said, her eyes on Ellie.

Ellie nodded and replied, “Yes. You were in Berhert for vacation, and we dined with Professor Deculein at a restaurant.”

Ellie’s memory had always been reliable, particularly when it came to anything involving space. It was as if she embodied it.

“Do you remember what was on the menu that day?” Primien asked, her tone casual, as if it didn’t matter.

“It was a beef steak served with matsutake mushrooms,” Ellie replied.

"The dish that day was steak with mushrooms."

For a brief moment, Ellie’s and Deculein’s voices seemed to overlap. Primien’s hand, which had been busy sorting through the documents, suddenly froze.

“... Was it?”

Deculein’s parting words from that evening echoed in her mind.

“I’m only joking. As if I could remember... what we ate all those years ago.”

Primien packed all the records related to Cielia into a box.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

She shoved everything potentially useful inside and said, “Ellie, you can’t stay by the professor’s side forever. The longer you stay, the higher the chance the Altar will catch up to you.”

“Yes, I’m well aware. Do you think I don’t know? After all, I’m a triple agent.”

“If you know, then leave already.”

“I will! Goodbye, Lilia Primien!” Allen said with a grin, pulling his hat down low. With a confident stride, he opened the main door to the Purple Room and walked out.

“... There’s no need to harbor unnecessary feelings toward the target,” Primien muttered quietly as she set the box down and sank into a chair. “Damn stock market...”

Her temples throbbed with sharp, piercing pain. Thoughts of the plummeting stock market flashed through her mind, accompanied by the echo of Deculein’s voice in her ears.

“I wasn’t aware you had an aversion to mushrooms.”

Primien stood motionless, lost in thought as she recalled his words.

"The dish that day was steak with mushrooms."

She quietly recalled his next words again.

“I’m only joking. As if I could remember... what we ate all those years ago.”

Expressionless, she kicked the box at her feet and muttered, “Fucking mushrooms.”

***

Today, I visited Sophien in my role as her Instructor Mage, though the setting was different from the usual. Instead of the Hall of Learning, we met in the gardens of the Imperial Palace.

“Deculein, over here,” Sophien called out.

In the northeastern garden, the landscape was locked in eternal winter. Bare trees clustered together like thorns, while an endless blanket of snow stretched across the ground. In the distance, Sophien stood beside a solitary log cabin.

“Over here, this way.”

The Empress, dressed in a fur coat and hat, waved with her usual grace. Today, her face appeared a little better. I made my way toward her.

Crunch, crunch—

The crunch of my boots against the snow echoed in rhythm with my thoughts as I reflected on the gap between the second and seventh cycles, and the promises I had failed to keep with her.

“Come in.”

“It’s good to see you, Your Majesty. You appear to be well today,” I replied.

“I am,” Sophien replied with a faint smile. “But today, I have company—someone you know well.”

With a snap of her fingers, Yulie stepped out of the cabin. Even though she had accompanied me to the Imperial Palace earlier, she had somehow made it to the garden before I did.

"Recently, I’ve felt drowsy, sluggish, and far too lazy to focus on my lessons. That’s why I’ve decided to train in both swordsmanship and magic simultaneously."

"...I apologize for not informing you in advance. I was caught up in this on my way back as well," Yulie said, no longer acting as the escort knight but now the Instructor Knight, standing there with a somewhat stiff expression.

Though I found it somewhat irritating, I nodded in acknowledgment.

Yulie was the first to speak, saying, "Your Majesty, shall we begin with sword practice?"

"No. Sit down first," Sophien said, motioning to a small tea table near the cabin. Both the table and chairs were made of wood. She set the teacups on the table. "Lately, my ennui and lethargy have been unbearable... I’m starting to think the cause isn’t within me but something outside."

As she spoke, she glanced at Keiron, who stood silently beside the cabin.

"That knight Keiron never says a word... Deculein, any thoughts? I have a feeling you might."

Sophien took a mirror from her pocket and set it on the table. I remained silent, aware that denying it would have been a lie.

"Speak, Deculein. What do you know?" Sophien demanded, her brow knitting slightly as her sharp gaze locked onto me.

I met her sharp stare while Yulie, caught between us, watched nervously. Then, without warning, Yulie’s eyes widened, and her body jerked.

Clink—!

A teacup tipped over, spilling onto the snow-covered ground.

"...Professor? Your Majesty?" Yulie said, blinking in confusion as her eyes shifted between Sophien and me. Her reaction was sudden and odd, but I had a sense of what might have caused it.

"Yulie," I called out to her.

“... Yes?”

"What did you witness just now?"

She blinked again, glancing around in clear confusion as her hair began to lift slightly and static crackled in the air, and said, “Oh, I think... I must have dozed off. Thankfully, it was only a dream—”

Her worried eyes met mine, and I cut her off firmly, saying, “No, Yulie. You weren’t dreaming. You didn’t sleep for even a moment.”

Sophien, now intrigued, watched us closely as she picked up the fallen teacup and took a sip.

"Tell me, Yulie. What did you witness? What happened before you came back here? Or rather, what kind of dream was it?"

"Ah... it was..." Yulie said, swallowing hard as she gripped the armor on her thigh tightly. "It was a dream of your death, Professor." n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Sophien’s smile widened at Yulie’s response. Meanwhile, Yulie rested her hand on her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart, as if trying to confirm that this was real.

"I’m so relieved..."

Yulie’s sigh of relief was reassuring, but I shook my head and said, “No. It’s not something to be relieved about. That wasn’t a dream.”

“... Sorry?”

At that moment, Yulie had returned from the future—a future where I had died, and where she had slain Néscĭus.

“If you don’t explain everything, I’ll meet the same fate again.”