TNDOBM 22

Chapter 22

Actually, she had realized the man was lying the moment she checked his worn-out shoes.

If he was a noble—since he said he’d been separated from his attendant—it made no sense for a man of high status, too sickly to even walk properly, to have shoes that were so worn down.

*’In that case, he must have approached with some ulterior motive.’*

Given Lien’s unusual reaction and the fact that he’d stepped forward to help the man, it wasn’t difficult to guess that the man was likely Lien’s subordinate or colleague.

But there was no point in prying.

Sometimes, one had to act like an oblivious person.

*’If he’s showing himself so openly, it must be an urgent matter.’*

Thinking the conversation might drag on, Cecilia trudged over to the shade.

—

The moment they stepped out of Cecilia’s view and into a less crowded path, Lien released the body he had been supporting.

Thud. The man collapsed pitifully to the ground and let out a faint groan.

“Ugh, I think something really is broken…”

“Do you want to actually get a chronic illness?”

“Of course not.”

The man sprang up as if he had never fallen.

Hiltain, brushing off his dirtied clothes, cautiously glanced at his superior.

In fact, he knew very well what his superior hated.

Being bothered, and disobeying orders.

And Hiltain had bothered him by disobeying the order not to come find him.

As expected, it seemed to have irritated him—the aura emanating from the other grew rougher and heavier.

“…Hiltain.”

“Yes.”

“Did I permit you to follow me all the way here?”

The deliberately clumsy way of speaking, the incomprehensible black robe, even the large plushie, as big as his upper body, held in one arm—it was all utterly ridiculous.

Yet, the moment he met those calm purple eyes, goosebumps rose on his spine.

Hiltain, who had unconsciously taken a step back, bowed his head.

“I’m sorry.”

His courage, which had swelled when he’d boldly appeared before the Saintess and his superior, had shrunk pitifully, but despite appearances, he was the closest aide to the Magic Tower Master, a man surrounded by rumors.

Hiltain kept his mouth moving even as he felt like he was being choked.

“If you dislike being followed like this, then please return to the Magic Tower.”

“…”

“No, let me rephrase—please come back. There’s a mountain of work piled up that requires your approval, Tower Master.”

It was such an impudent remark that if his colleagues had heard it, they would have been appalled, wondering if he’d finally gone mad from overwork.

But at this rate, he was bound to die young anyway—whether by his superior’s hand or from being hounded by work.

So even if he died right here on this street, he had to say what needed to be said.

Yet, despite his subordinate’s insubordination, the other merely frowned in annoyance.

“Yes, you can just take over as Magic Tower Master, then.”

“May I submit my resignation right now?”

Hiltain fumbled for the resignation letter he always carried in his breast pocket. And at the same time, it burst into flames and disappeared.

“…Life.”

Hiltain, having lost his last hope, slumped his shoulders sullenly.

His cold-hearted superior casually ignored his subordinate and cast his gaze elsewhere.

It was in a direction similar to where they had started from.

If he looked a little impatient, was that purely a misunderstanding?

*’That can’t be.’*

Shaking off his delusions, Hiltain quickly got to the point.

“I came at the risk of being rude because there’s an urgent matter I need to convey.”

“…An urgent matter?”

“Yes. Duke Dillanshay has discovered that you are in Weberdin.”

Dillanshay.

At those three syllables, his superior let out an irritated sigh.

Lien roughly ran a hand down his face and spoke peevishly.

“Then that makes things simple. Tell him I’ll handle things here myself, so he should mind his own business.”

And not to try any nonsense.

The added voice was incomparably more somber than before.

Hiltain, who had grown a shade paler, silently nodded.

Unfortunately, in the midst of his superior’s mood plummeting to unknown depths, there was one more piece of bad news left.

“And there’s one more person who has discovered your location, Tower Master.”

“…So it seems.”

Lien, finally creasing his brow deeply, cast his gaze behind Hiltain.

“Come out.”

In fact, he had been sensing an irritating presence nearby ever since he was walking around the festival with Cecilia.

No sooner had Lien’s cold command rang out than a small figure appeared from around the corner.

“Hehe, busted.”

It was a little boy of about five years old.

The child, walking as unnaturally as a puppet dangling from strings, had dark, murky magic circles drawn on his cheeks and forehead—visible only to magicians.

“Hi, Lien. How have you been?”

The child grinned, rolling his unfocused eyes.

“I told you to stop using that magic because it’s creepy, didn’t I?”

“I can’t help it. You locked me up tight in the Magic Tower and left, so I couldn’t come in person, could I? Besides, it’s not a spell that harms the host’s body.”

The child shrugged exaggeratedly.

“By the way, what’s with that funny way of talking? I heard rumors that you’d gone a little crazy lately, but I didn’t think they were actually true!”

Lien silently looked at Hiltain beside him.

Startled, Hiltain flinched and unnecessarily moved closer to the child.

“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes today, I would never have believed it! You blushing and smiling! I nearly screamed from how disgusting it was!”

“…”

“So what kind of game are you playing? Don’t tell me—have you finally awakened to the beauty of women?”

“Would you stop with the nonsense…”

“Good news, but of all people, the Saintess as your target? That’s a bit of a questionable taste…”

“Asilien Chetwynd.”

The chattering child shut his mouth with a snap.

Lien’s face, which had only been laden with fatigue and contempt, had frozen into something terrifying.

“Fine, don’t make that face! It’s genuinely scary!”

The startled child—no, ‘Asilien’—squeaked.

“I’m even lending you my name and acting as the acting Magic Tower Master, and this is how you treat me? That’s really too much.”

Asilien muttered to Hiltain, asking if he didn’t think the man was truly heartless.

But the three syllables uttered darkly cut off the grumbling.

“Just the business.”

“Would it kill you to speak a little more kindly—… Ah, fine, I’ll just report!”

“…”

“Your subordinates and I are still keeping watch on ‘that place’ you mentioned, but there’s no unusual movement. Besides, it’s difficult to even approach there in the first place.”

As if he had expected the result, Lien showed no particular disappointment.

The child shook his head and continued with a light sigh.

“So when are you coming back? I can only pretend to be you so many times—the old fogies at the tower have probably already noticed, you know?”

“…Soon.”

Lien’s gaze lingered on the doll in his hand.

He thought of the woman waiting for him not far away.

The one who accepted him as a friend, not as a gardener. The one who accepted him as the head of the magicians.

Unlike ‘that person’ who had despised him, spat curses telling him to get lost, and never spared him a single glance—the one who reached out to him, smiled at him, and gave him a gift.

But he wasn’t unaware that it was only because she knew him as ‘Asilien Chetwynd.’

*’If she learns my real name, then no longer…’*

So before this brief reprieve ended, he had to fulfill his original purpose.

Even if it meant deceiving the other party until the very end and walking back to his own place with his own feet.

“Is that the end of the report?”

“Ah, I do have one piece of personal advice left. If you want to please a woman, instead of wrapping yourself up so tightly, you need to boldly strip—…!”

Before the long-winded nonsense could finish, Lien waved his hand in the air.

At that, the magic circle engraved on the child vanished completely.

Blink. The child opened and closed his eyes, and his focus had returned.

Wondering why he had been standing alone in the middle of the street, the child tilted his head and quickly ran off into the crowd.

Hiltain quietly watched the child’s small back as he rejoined his friends, then suddenly spoke.

“One last thing—the item you requested is complete.”

His face brighter now, seemingly pleased by the declaration of his return, Hiltain pulled a palm-sized box from his bosom and handed it over.

Lien took the box and clicked open the lid.

Inside the box lay a necklace adorned with an amber jewel that closely resembled someone’s eyes.

“As you commanded, I minimized the magical traces. Even the Pope likely won’t notice it.”

This was also one of the reasons Hiltain had been made to look like an invalid.

Fortunately, it seemed to pass inspection—Lien pulled out only the necklace and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Then I’ll be waiting for you in the capital.”

After Hiltain too obediently withdrew, Lien finally checked the time.

More time had passed than he’d thought.

Just as he hurriedly took a step—

“Hey, I heard the Saintess is around here?”

“Really? Come on, let’s go see!”

Saintess—those two words caught in his ear, and his expression hardened.

Whoosh. In the spot where a faint breeze had passed, not even his shadow remained.