Chapter 175: Survivor
“…You’re Damian’s wife, aren’t you?”
“Why does that matter? You said you don’t consider Damian your grandson.”
Howard’s lips parted slightly, but no words came. It was a truth too shameful, too raw to voice—not yet, at least. He owed Damian an apology first, and perhaps his forgiveness, though whether that was possible remained uncertain.
For now, Howard said nothing more and rose to his feet.
“I should be going.”
“What? Oh, alright. Safe travels.”
Aracila glanced at him curiously as he abruptly stood to leave but didn’t try to stop him. With so much to do, his departure was almost a relief.
She saw Howard off out of courtesy, then hurried her steps elsewhere.
She still couldn’t fathom why he’d shared the Lond family’s secrets with her, but more pressing matters demanded her attention now.
“Tell Collin to meet me in the study!”
“Yes, my lady.”
Aracila issued the command to a passing maid and settled onto the study’s sofa.
Before long, Collin appeared. He hadn’t been out investigating and was already at the estate, allowing him to arrive quickly.
“You called for me?”
“Collin, it’s not an owl. It’s a night owl.”
“…Pardon?”
Caught off guard by her abrupt declaration, Collin blinked in confusion before collecting himself. He let out a small exclamation and nodded.
“No wonder—searching for an owl turned up nothing, not even a speck of dust.”
“Exactly. They look similar, and the pattern on the fabric was faded, so I got confused. Let’s start over with the night owl.”
“Understood, my lady.”
“This time, we’re doing it right.”
With the vacation granted by the Magic Tower nearing its end and no progress to show for it, Aracila felt a surge of urgency. She steeled herself, determined to focus entirely and uncover something—anything—useful.
Her eyes blazed with resolve.
Collin began searching for guilds or assassins using the night owl as a symbol, while Aracila roamed the streets, subtly dropping hints about seeking the night owl.
It was three days later when a response came.
As usual, she was walking down Fourth Street, cloaked in a robe with a white fur scarf, when a stone whizzed past and landed at her feet.
What’s that? An accident?
She nearly ignored it, but another stone flew her way. Realizing it was deliberate, Aracila turned toward the source.
In the shadowed entrance of a narrow alley, a dark figure beckoned her to follow.
Cautiously casting a protective spell around herself, Aracila trailed the figure.
After winding through twisting alleyways for what felt like ages, the figure stopped. A full moon overhead bathed them both in silvery light.
The man, his face hidden behind a mask, sized Aracila up from head to toe.
Her robe made it hard to tell whether she was a short man or a tall woman. His scrutinizing gaze lingered before he spoke.
“You’re the one looking for the night owl?”
“That’s right.”
Her clear, melodic voice revealed her to be a woman, and the man relaxed slightly. In a softer tone, he pressed, “Why are you looking?”
“Because I have business with it.”
Her curt, almost dismissive reply made the man’s face twist in irritation.
He was already on edge—someone had been stirring up trouble in the streets, asking about the night owl. Now, faced with her haughty attitude, his patience frayed further.
No point listening any longer. Better to kill her and be done with it.
With that decision, his hand crept toward his waist, where a dagger lay hidden. He intended to end her life before she could even scream.
Sensing no threat from Aracila, he lunged forward.
Whoosh!
Had he known the face beneath the robe belonged to the future head of the Magic Tower, he would never have been foolish enough to attack first.
“Don’t blame me…!”
Unaware, he drove his dagger toward her chest.
Clang!
“…?!”
The blade stopped as if blocked by an invisible barrier, hovering just inches from her.
As the man faltered in shock, Aracila swiftly reached out and yanked off his mask.
“What the—?!”
He scrambled to cover his face, but his head wouldn’t move. Aracila’s binding spell had already immobilized his entire body.
The crushing force of her magic sapped his strength, and the dagger slipped from his hand. Despair flickered in his eyes.
“Damn it! You’re a mage?!”
“You shouldn’t have been so reckless.”
Aracila clicked her tongue softly and pressed a hand lightly on his shoulder. The man, fully ensnared by her spell, was forced to his knees.
Moonlight revealed a face scarred from years in the underworld—likely a guild member or assassin.
In a cold, detached voice, Aracila said, “From now on, every answer ends with ‘yes.’ Understood?”
“Why should I—?! Ugh, yes.”
The moment he resisted, a choking sensation gripped his throat, and he quickly surrendered.
Even for someone accustomed to rough work, no one wanted to die.
Aracila gazed down at the now-compliant man and asked bluntly, “What’s the night owl?”
“…What?”
He blinked dumbly, unable to see her face beneath the long brim of her hood.
“I said answer immediately when I ask. Now.”
“Now! I mean… it’s just, you’ve been running around looking for the night owl, and now you’re asking me what it is? That’s a bit confusing, yes.”
He shot her a baffled glance. Aracila, arms crossed, replied calmly, “I wouldn’t be searching if I knew. Is it a guild name? A code?”
“Well, something like that, yes.”
“And why did you try to kill me just for asking about the night owl?”
“Well, the thing is…”
With a troubled expression, the man began to explain.
He had once been an assassin for an underworld guild but had recently struck out on his own.
I didn’t part with the guild on bad terms, so I kept in touch with my old comrades regularly.
One day, I heard that an anonymous client had approached the guild.
This person, apparently, offered a staggering sum of money—enough to shock even the underworld’s hardened types—for a clandestine job.
“In our world, it’s an unspoken rule not to pry into each other’s commissions. Besides, I’d already left the guild, so I wasn’t privy to the details of their work.”
Though I didn’t know what the job entailed, the guild had recently completed it without a hitch.
The guildmaster, flush with the massive payment, distributed the wealth more generously than ever to the members.
When I heard the news, I congratulated my former colleagues, tossing in a playful remark about tagging along if another big commission came their way.
But that’s when the trouble started.
One by one, guild members began to die.
No one knew why at first, but a few days ago, suspicions arose that it might be connected to that anonymous client.
“Was the client’s name Owl?”
“No, but… they said the man wore clothes with an owl embroidered on them. That’s why everyone started calling him Owl.”
With no knowledge of his face, identity, or status, they’d given him a nickname based on the most striking feature they could see.
Aracila frowned, feeling as though something was on the tip of her mind, just out of reach. The man continued, his face clouded with gloom.
“Now that even the vice-guildmaster is dead, the guild members are terrified and in hiding. We don’t know how powerful this Owl is, but he’s been taking out skilled people with ease.”
“So you came to me because you thought I might know something about Owl?”
“Yeah. These are people I’ve known for a long time—friends. They’re scared, not knowing when they might die, and I want to help them.”
For someone who made a living as an assassin, it was a surprisingly emotional and gentle sentiment.
Aracila pressed her fingers to her forehead, lost in thought.
From the sound of it, the guild this man spoke of had been paid by Owl to kill Oscar.
If that was the case, the real target Aracila needed to pursue wasn’t the guild but this anonymous client.
“Where are they now? Scattered?”
“No, they figured they’d survive together but die if separated. They’re all holed up in one place to guard against any surprise attacks.”
“That sounds even more dangerous.”
If they were all gathered together, wouldn’t that just make it easier to wipe them out in one fell swoop?
A creeping sense of foreboding gripped Aracila. She swiftly undid the binding spell on the man and yanked him to his feet.
Caught off guard, he stood up like a radish pulled from the ground, blinking at her in bewilderment.
“Lead the way.”
“Huh? Lead where…?”
“Where do you think? To where your guild members are hiding. Take me there. Now.”
Beneath the brim of her deep hood, Aracila’s blue eyes blazed fiercely. The man stumbled back, his face a mask of panic.
He stammered, timidly protesting.
“How—how am I supposed to trust you and take you there, ma’am? For all I know, you could be someone sent by Owl to kill us…”
“I’m the one hunting Owl, so quit wasting time and lead the way.”
“But… how can I trust some stranger I just met today to turn over my friends?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
Frustrated beyond patience, Aracila whipped off her robe’s hood.
Lavender-tinted hair, a small pale face, and gem-like blue eyes.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—so much so that he momentarily forgot the brutal treatment she’d just subjected him to.
Staring at her, transfixed, he suddenly pointed with a trembling finger, recognition dawning as he recalled seeing her in a newspaper.
“The—the next Tower Master?!”
“Tower Master’s a bit informal, don’t you think?”
“Lady Tower Master!”
“That’s better. Trustworthy enough for you now? So hurry up and lead the way.”
Knowing full well that Aracila was a noblewoman from a prestigious family, destined to become the next Tower Master, the man nodded vigorously.
His former comrades would surely prefer being apprehended en masse by the future Tower Master over being slaughtered.
The two of them, faces concealed once more by robes and masks, moved quickly, shaking off the eerie chill that pressed in around them.
The guild members, it was said, had built a cabin deep in the forest on the outskirts of the capital, where they lived together.
As they climbed the mountain, Aracila and the man exchanged introductions.
For an assassin, he was surprisingly sloppy—his name was Riley, a pretty name that didn’t match his rough appearance.
Without pausing to rest, they pressed on, legs moving tirelessly until they reached the cabin nestled halfway up the mountain.
“Huff, huff—is this it?”
Aracila, who had never hiked so intensely in her life, gasped for breath as she asked.
Beside her, Riley, hands braced on his knees, answered with labored breaths.
“Huff, hrrk—yes, that’s—huff—right.”
“…How is an assassin this out of shape?”
Somehow, he seemed even more exhausted than Aracila, a mage unaccustomed to physical exertion.
Riley, retching pitifully, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said,
“I’m the type who—huff—ends things in one go, no stamina needed, ma’am.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Catching her breath, Aracila turned her gaze from the still-heaving Riley to the cabin.
It was quiet, the lights extinguished—hardly believable that at least ten guild members were supposed to be gathered inside.
“Are they all asleep? Or…”
Frowning, Aracila scanned the surroundings, an unsettling feeling growing within her. She strode forward and flung the door open.
“Hey, ma’am! You should knock—huh, it’s open?”
Riley, who had rushed to stop her, froze in confusion. He knew his former comrades were meticulous about locking up.
Aracila stepped boldly into the dark interior, undeterred.
Riley hurried after her. With a flick of her magic, she illuminated the space.
The moment they opened their eyes against the dazzling light—
“…Gah!”
A horrifying scene unfolded before them. The bodies of dead guild members, blood-soaked, were strewn about like discarded refuse.
Riley clamped a hand over his mouth, frozen at the sight of his former comrades brutally murdered.
Even Aracila, unaccustomed to such carnage, felt nausea rising and pressed a hand to her chest to steady herself.
Her eyes darted around the room. The aftermath of a violent struggle was evident—tables and chairs smashed, windows shattered.
“Ha… we’re too late.”
Aracila pressed a hand to her forehead, letting out a low groan.
Just then, Riley, whom she’d thought too shocked to act, suddenly pointed toward the kitchen.
“The back door’s open, ma’am! There’s a trail of blood leading that way… someone must’ve escaped!”
“What?”
Hope flickered across both their faces. They rushed to the back door.
Aracila immediately cast a tracking spell, sensing the presence of pursuers and prey in the midnight forest.
Luckily, the chase hadn’t started long ago—they weren’t far.
“This way!”
“Got it!”
Crashing through the underbrush, they ran like mad, pushing past the breath burning in their throats, driven by sheer will.
In the distance, the faint outline of a pursuer came into view. Without hesitation, Aracila launched a magic orb.
Thud!
“Argh!”
Caught off guard by the attack from behind, the pursuer tumbled forward.
He wasn’t alone—three others were with him.
Startled by their comrade’s fall, they quickly ducked behind trees, a wise move to avoid being struck by Aracila’s magic.
As the pursuers scattered, a limping figure emerged, desperately staggering forward—the sole surviving guild member, fleeing for their life.
“Riley, take care of your friend. I’ll handle the others.”
“Got it!”
Riley bolted toward the survivor, moving with near-feral speed.
The pursuers, wary of Aracila’s presence, hesitated to act, knowing mages who could attack and defend simultaneously were formidable foes.
“Come out now while I’m asking nicely. If I have to drag you out, you might not walk away on two legs.”
Aracila issued her warning as she approached the fallen pursuer.
Her tracking spell had already pinpointed their locations. Even if all three attacked at once, they wouldn’t breach her shield.
And by now, her hood had fallen, revealing to all that she was none other than Aracila Vandemir.
The pursuers exchanged glances and slowly emerged from behind the trees—not to surrender, as she’d hoped.
Bang!
“Ugh…!”
A smoke bomb exploded, clouding the air with thick, white haze.
Aracila instinctively raised her arm to shield her face.
When the smoke cleared, they were gone, having deftly carried off their fallen comrade and fled.
Tracking their scattered presences as they split in three directions, Aracila started to give chase but stopped short.
“Brady, you idiot! I’m here! Come on, wake up! Brady!”
Riley was sobbing, shaking his friend who lay collapsed on the ground.
It seemed she’d need to help him first.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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