Chapter 133: The First Defeat
“The situation is different for you, Aracila,” Fernando said, recovering from her sharp rebuke to silence him. His voice carried a smug certainty, and Aracila’s brow furrowed instantly.
“How am I different?” she demanded.
“You should have been more mindful, considering your family,” he replied. “Your actions not only disgrace your husband but also cast a shadow over the Mage Tower.”
“Am I the only one who’s married?” Aracila shot back, her expression incredulous. Every senior mage in the room was married, and several had caused their own scandals. Why was she the only one being singled out?
“That’s exactly what I mean—the circumstances are different,” Fernando said, stroking his chin with an exaggerated sigh. “Men can stray; it’s a way to relieve the stress of home and work. But women? They’re expected to be dutiful, demure, and virtuous.”
He shrugged, his face curling into a sneer. “Yet you’ve been entangled in an illicit affair with someone of high standing. Tsk, tsk. Even if it’s not true, isn’t it your fault for not conducting yourself properly?”
Aracila’s eyes narrowed, sharp and unyielding, but Fernando pressed on with brazen confidence. “It’s all your doing, so you should accept the consequences humbly.”
She turned to the others. “Does everyone share this opinion?”
She’d never expected fairness from Fernando. She’d anticipated he’d do everything in his power to escalate her punishment, along with his allies. Her hope lay with the other half of the council—the mages who might still change their minds and block her expulsion. If they did, she’d gain time to explain herself and prove her innocence, no matter what it took.
She knew most of the council didn’t view her favorably, but she believed they could still judge her situation objectively.
“…I’ll ask again,” she said, her voice steady. “Is there no one who disagrees with Fernando?”
The council chamber was suffocatingly silent. Aracila’s gaze swept the room, but not a single mage met her eyes. They all knew expulsion was excessive, yet none had the courage or inclination to challenge the majority—for their own interests or fear of defying the prevailing sentiment.
“…Ha. Haha. Hahaha.”
A hollow laugh escaped her lips. How could they all be so cowardly, so despicable? She’d known they were like this, yet the sting of betrayal and resentment cut deep.
Her eyes finally landed on Philip. He was her last hope, the only one in the room who might defend her—her mentor.
“Master of the Tower,” she said, her voice soft but pleading.
Philip, who had been silently observing, met her gaze. Despite his small stature, he always carried an imposing presence. Seeing no trace of reproach or contempt in his eyes, Aracila sent him a desperate, hopeful look.
“Aracila, I…”
As Philip began to speak, Fernando swiftly cut him off. “Even you, Master, cannot overturn the council’s will this time. In fact, your connection to Aracila should bar you from intervening. Who’s to say you’re not shielding her to ensure your protégé dominates the next generation of the Tower?”
“Watch yourself, Fernando,” Philip said sternly. “That’s no way to speak to the Master of the Tower.”
“I’m not the only one who thinks so,” Fernando retorted. “How many times have you shown her favoritism?”
It was true that Philip had given Aracila preferential treatment, but only to counter the discrimination she faced as a young female mage in the Tower. Her talent and ambition had been dismissed simply because of her gender, and he’d wanted to support her. Yet Fernando shamelessly twisted this into an accusation of selfish favoritism.
The other mages neither agreed nor disagreed, their eyes darting nervously.
“If you ignore our decision, the mages outside this council won’t stay silent,” Fernando warned. “I urge you to make a wise choice.”
It was a thinly veiled threat: if Philip overturned the vote, he’d face protests from the broader Tower, escalating the matter beyond control. For Aracila, leaving the Tower might seem preferable to such chaos.
Philip, having made his decision, met Aracila’s eyes again and gave a subtle shake of his head. She understood immediately: even he couldn’t save her.
I’m sorry, his silent apology seemed to say.
The strength drained from her, and Aracila sank back into her chair, defeated.
It was over.
Her dream of becoming Master of the Tower, her future as a mage, the life she’d devoted to magic—all of it, gone.
Despite all her struggles and efforts, she was left with nothing as she faced her expulsion from the Tower.
It had all been for naught.
For the first time in her life, Aracila tasted true defeat. It was utterly devastating.
The world around her faded—soundless, sightless, as if she were trapped in an endless abyss, falling without a floor to catch her.
Audrey emerged from Aracila’s room, her face somber as she carried a tray of barely touched food. Despite filling it with Aracila’s favorites, only a few spoonfuls of soup had been eaten.
Since her official expulsion from the Mage Tower, Aracila had retreated into herself, locking herself away in her room. The relentless drive that had propelled her toward her dream had vanished, leaving her listless and hollow. It was a side of her Audrey had never seen, and it broke her heart.
She knew how hard Aracila had worked since childhood to become Master of the Tower, fearlessly walking a thorny path others avoided. To have that dream snatched away was enough to crush anyone, and it was no surprise she’d shut herself off. Audrey longed to stay by her side, to offer warmth and comfort, but…
“I want to be alone, Audrey,” Aracila had said, her voice cracked and brittle.
Unable to refuse the raw plea, Audrey had complied.
Even Damian wasn’t spared from her request for solitude.
“Isn’t the lady eating again today?”
Damian, leaning against the corridor wall while waiting for Audrey, asked the question softly. Audrey, who had been walking with her eyes fixed on the floor, her expression heavy with gloom, looked up quickly.
“Oh, Master. Yes… she barely touched her food,” she replied.
“If she keeps refusing to eat, she’ll collapse,” Damian said, his voice laced with concern.
“I know,” Audrey sighed deeply. “No matter how much I plead, she says her stomach’s too upset to eat…”
Damian’s gaze drifted toward the bedroom, his face shadowed. He couldn’t forget the sight of Aracila after her final meeting at the Mage Tower. She had returned as if her soul had been drained, the vibrant spark in her intelligent blue eyes dulled to a vacant haze. As he’d steadied her unsteady steps, her arm felt so fragile in his grip that it seemed it might snap with the slightest pressure.
But he knew it wasn’t her body that had broken—it was her spirit.
“My lady has lived most of her life driven by the dream of achieving her goals,” Audrey said, her voice tinged with lament. “After her marriage, I thought she’d lost some of that fire, but she regained her momentum, and I was so relieved…”
She caught herself, realizing her words might sound tactless, and bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Master. That was thoughtless of me.”
“No, you’re not wrong,” Damian replied gently.
When he’d first heard of Aracila’s expulsion, the same thought had crossed his mind: Would she have avoided this if we hadn’t married? He now understood how marriage could be a crippling vulnerability for a female mage. The fear that his presence might have held her back gnawed at him. Perhaps she’d grown disillusioned with him or wanted to abandon their arrangement and leave.
If only she could reclaim her dream, he thought. If she did, surely she’d return to her old self, laughing with the same vitality as before.
Lost in serious thought, Damian’s expression grew grave.
Audrey, noticing the shift, looked at him with confusion. “Master…?”
After a moment, he spoke slowly. “Do you know the juniors who worked under my lady at the Mage Tower?”
When Aracila was expelled, her research lab had been disbanded. As a result, Sally and Rudy were left adrift, rejected by other labs. They had no desire to join another team either.
Moreover, since they’d been involved in crafting the lamp that caused the explosion, they’d been demoted to the lowest ranks of the Mage Tower as punishment. Barred from even minor magical research, they were relegated to menial tasks like cleaning. But what truly tormented them was something else entirely.
“Look at them, brought low,” one mage sneered. “Strutting around under that pretty-faced mage, and now this.”
“Why’d they even work for a female mage who’d quit once she married? They swore she wouldn’t, but look—she caused a mess and got kicked out.”
“And that magic airship business? Rumor has it the crown prince, her secret lover, funded it to make it look like a success.”
“Ha! All that talk of talent, and it turns out her real skill was seducing men!”
Sally’s eyes blazed as she glared at the mages laughing raucously, deliberately taunting her and Rudy from a distance. She wanted nothing more than to charge over and thrash them, but she’d already been warned after a previous altercation.
Those bastards. I’ll make them pay one day, she vowed silently, seething.
Beside her, Rudy stood quietly. Without a word, he strode toward the mages and swung his arm in a swift, powerful arc.
Thwack!
A sharp sound rang out as one mage stumbled forward, clutching the back of his head. Rudy had struck him hard.
Sally, stunned by the uncharacteristic action from the usually reserved Rudy, stared as he spoke. “What do you know about her to talk like that? You’re not even worth the dirt under her nails, yet your mouths keep flapping.”
“Rudy! Are you insane?!” the struck mage shrieked, rubbing his head.
Rudy’s eyes were cold and fierce. “No, I’m perfectly sane. The crazy ones are you lot, running your mouths without a shred of sense.”
“You little—!”
The mages lunged at Rudy, and he charged back. They collided in a chaotic tangle, clawing, biting, and pinching in a messy brawl. Since magic was forbidden for fighting within the Tower, they resorted to raw physicality.
They’re fighting like children… Sally thought, too dumbfounded to intervene as they flailed wildly.
The pathetic scuffle ended when a senior mage arrived and forcibly separated them. Snapping out of her daze, Sally rushed to Rudy, smacking his shoulder.
“Hey! Why’d you do that? They said one more fight and you’d be disciplined!”
“That was you, Sally, not me,” Rudy replied calmly.
“…Oh, right?”
Now that she thought about it, she’d been the one in the last fight, while Rudy had been in the restroom and missed it. He’d only returned in time to see her get reprimanded.
“Then… good job, you idiot,” Sally said, grinning as she slung an arm around his neck and ruffled his hair.
Honestly, the mages’ taunts had been worse than the last group’s, and her blood had been boiling. Rudy’s decisive blow had been cathartic, like a pressure valve releasing her frustration.
“But you look pretty banged up. You okay?” she asked, eyeing his injuries.
“It’s nothing a bit of salve won’t fix,” Rudy said, unfazed despite his disheveled hair, bruised eye, and split lip. If anything, he regretted not landing a few more hits. I should’ve sewn their lips shut so they’d never mention Aracila again.
Due to the commotion, they were ordered to leave early.
“If we take turns fighting like this, we might dodge harsher punishments,” Sally mused as they walked.
“At least if one of us gets caught, the other can keep knocking their teeth out,” Rudy added.
“Let’s rip their hair out too—make them bald. Then they’ll be too scared to badmouth her.”
As Sally and Rudy walked, united in their resolve, a voice called out.
“Sally! Rudy!”
Audrey, who’d been waiting eagerly outside, waved enthusiastically. The three knew each other as Aracila’s juniors and maid. They weren’t close, but they were on friendly terms, having exchanged names and casual conversation before.
“Audrey? What brings you here?” Sally asked.
“I came to find you both,” Audrey said with a warm smile. “Do you have a moment? Someone wants to meet you.”
Curious, and hoping it might be Aracila, Sally and Rudy followed her without hesitation. They headed to a secluded clearing near the Mage Tower, surrounded by trees, where an elegant carriage awaited.
Inside was—
“Gah!”
“S-Sir Vandemir…?”
Damian sat with his arms crossed, his presence imposing.
“I have something to discuss. Come in and sit,” he said, gesturing with his chin.
His smile, meant to be welcoming, carried an edge that made it oddly intimidating as he addressed the two, who had frozen in place expecting Aracila.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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