Chapter 93: Gossip
The day of the Magic Tower’s 100th anniversary celebration had arrived.
Damian wore a crisp white shirt adorned with intricate red embroidery across the front, paired with a pristine white jacket. His attire subtly contrasted yet harmonized with Aracila’s, who was dressed in the Magic Tower’s white uniform, resplendent with golden embroidery.
Having visited the Magic Tower frequently for business related to the magical airship project, Damian was no stranger to its halls. However, stepping into spaces beyond Aracila’s research lab was a new experience for him.
At the entrance to the grand banquet hall where the event was held, a Magic Tower staff member stood checking names against a list. Aracila, however, strode in confidently without announcing herself. There was no need—her identity was vouched for by the four gleaming star badges pinned to her chest, catching the light as she moved.
Damian scanned the hall, his gaze drawn upward to the hundreds of mana stones suspended from the ceiling, each glowing with a distinct hue. Intrigued, he asked, “How do they shine in so many different colors?”
“It’s simple,” Aracila replied. “You infuse the mana stones with magic. Everyone’s mana has a unique color.”
To celebrate the Tower’s centennial, its mages had each contributed a mana stone infused with their own magic. Now, those stones sparkled brilliantly, delighting the eyes of everyone in the room.
“One of them has my mana,” Aracila added with a mischievous smile.
“Which one?” Damian asked, his curiosity piqued.
“You figure it out,” she teased.
Though she had cast spells in his presence many times, he likely hadn’t paid close attention to the specific color of her mana. Yet, as Damian studied the array of glowing stones, his eyes settled on one in particular—a luminous amethyst purple, shimmering with a rare clarity.
“That one, isn’t it?” he said, pointing.
Aracila’s eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It just… stood out to me.”
“That’s incredible,” she said, genuinely impressed. “Out of all these stones, you picked mine right away.”
Perhaps, in his own way, he’d been paying closer attention to her magic than she’d realized. The fact that he’d pinpointed her stone among so many similar shades felt almost uncanny.
As they moved to step further into the hall, a familiar voice called out from behind. “Aracila.”
She turned to see Frederick standing there, his face lit with a warm smile. His neatly swept-back bangs accentuated the soft curve of his eyes.
“There you are,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Frederick, you’re here for the event too?” Aracila asked.
“Yep. Representing the royal family to offer congratulations,” he replied warmly, stepping closer to clasp both of her hands tightly. “I missed you. How’ve you been?”
The overly familiar tone in his question made Damian’s brow twitch. Before Aracila could respond, he stepped in smoothly. “I’ve been wanting to see you too, Your Highness. Glad to see you looking well.”
Deliberately inserting himself between them, Damian forced Frederick to release Aracila’s hands, intercepting the conversation with unabashed confidence.
Frederick’s expression cooled as he met Damian’s gaze, but he quickly turned away. “I don’t know any other mages here, so I’ve been all alone,” he said, pointedly ignoring Damian and continuing as if he hadn’t spoken. Once, Frederick might have at least acknowledged him, but now he seemed intent on treating him as if he didn’t exist.
Aracila’s response was strikingly nonchalant. “Oh, is that so?”
“Yeah,” Frederick pressed, his brows drooping in a playful, almost childish pout. “So, could you keep me company today? I’ve got no one else to talk to.”
Damian’s irritation flared. Here he was, standing right beside his wife as her partner, and Frederick had the audacity to ask her to spend the day chatting with him—as if he were trying to steal her away right in front of him.
Just as Damian opened his mouth to protest, Aracila spoke first, her voice low but firm. “Frederick.”
Both men turned to her.
“You’re the Crown Prince,” she said. “If you don’t know anyone else and feel awkward, well, you’ll just have to tough it out.”
“…Huh?” Frederick blinked, caught off guard.
“Stay strong. Endure. Persevere,” she said, her tone almost paternal as she placed a hand on Damian’s arm. “Besides, I’ve got my husband with me, so I can’t stay by your side. Damian doesn’t know anyone here either.”
Frederick’s pout faltered. “You’re not telling him to stay strong?” he asked, glancing at Damian.
Aracila shrugged, her eyes flicking to her husband. “Why would I? He’s got me.”
“…”
“I’ll make sure he’s not left feeling awkward,” she added with a calm certainty.
Frederick’s smile cracked, his lips flattening into a thin line. Aracila was drawing a clear line—her husband, Damian, came before her friend of seven years from the academy.
“If you’re really bored, come talk to us,” she said, offering a perfunctory consolation. “We’ll be around. Hang in there.”
With that, she tugged Damian along, and he followed without resistance, casting a smug, triumphant smile back at Frederick. No matter how close Frederick had been to Aracila at the academy, he couldn’t encroach on a husband’s place.
Frederick’s face hardened, his fist clenching so tightly that his knuckles whitened and his nails dug into his palm, though he didn’t seem to notice the pain. Glaring at Damian, who had his arm draped possessively around Aracila’s shoulders, he muttered under his breath, “Damian Vandemir, that smug grin of yours won’t last long.”
His low, venomous words dissipated into the air, unheard by the couple.
The Magic Tower’s Master, Philip, was a man who understood how to keep things brief. Stepping up to deliver the opening remarks, he knew a lengthy speech would bore the crowd. Instead, he offered a short, heartfelt greeting and stepped down to warm applause.
Frederick followed with a congratulatory address, keeping it concise as well.
The guests soon dispersed throughout the banquet hall, eating, drinking, and mingling. The atmosphere was relaxed, less like a formal event and more like a lively festival.
Spotting her juniors in the distance, Aracila called out to them with a bright wave. “Sally! Rudy!”
“Senior!”
Sally and Rudy hurried toward her, their faces lighting up with excitement, but they faltered when they noticed Damian standing beside her. Though they had met him a few times during the magical airship project, his reserved demeanor always made him seem unfamiliar and slightly intimidating.
The two hesitated, fidgeting as they clasped their hands and bowed awkwardly.
“Uh, h-hello,” Sally stammered.
“G-good to see you again, sir,” Rudy added.
Damian acknowledged their greetings with a slight nod, keeping his response brief. He could see they were nervous around him and didn’t want to make it worse by saying too much.
Aracila burst into laughter at the sight of her juniors twisting like pretzels, unable to stand still. “What’s with you two? Why so awkward? Is it because of Damian?”
Sally and Rudy jumped, vehemently shaking their heads.
“No way, Senior! Not at all!” Sally protested.
“Y-yeah, the Commander’s been great to us!” Rudy chimed in.
Despite their words, they couldn’t bring themselves to meet Damian’s gaze. Their flustered antics were both endearing and a little pitiful, so Aracila took pity on them and waved them off. “Alright, go on, you two.”
With relieved smiles, Sally and Rudy bowed and scampered away.
Surprisingly, even after they left, a steady stream of people approached Aracila and Damian.
“Congratulations on your business success, Senior!” one mage said.
“Thanks,” Aracila replied warmly.
“If you keep this up, you’ll be the next Tower Master!” another added.
“Obviously,” Aracila said with a confident nod.
Most of the visitors were junior mages, eager to make an impression. To Damian’s surprise, not a single person commented negatively on his presence as a knight standing beside Aracila.
“Wow, Aracila, you and your husband look great together!” one peer remarked.
“I heard you two were close, but seeing it with my own eyes? I’m a little jealous,” another added with a grin.
Her peers and even some seniors were genuinely warm and welcoming. Damian, who had quietly worried that his presence might cause tension at such an important event for Aracila, felt a wave of relief. He didn’t want to ruin this moment for her.
As they engaged in pleasant conversation with other mages, a staff member approached discreetly. “Lady Aracila, the Tower Master requests your presence.”
Aracila nodded slightly and leaned in to whisper to Damian. “I’m going to meet with Master Philip for a bit. Take a break, okay?”
“Alright,” Damian replied.
While Aracila went to see Philip, Damian stepped away to use the restroom. When he returned, Aracila was still absent. Heading back to their spot to wait for her, he noticed a group of her peers—the same ones they’d spoken to earlier—gathered nearby. He hesitated, wondering if he should approach them, when their conversation reached his ears, sharp and venomous.
“Doesn’t Aracila just get on your nerves? Always acting so rational, so cool-headed.”
“What kind of person doesn’t know humility? She just nods like it’s a given when you compliment her.”
The group, who had been all smiles in front of Aracila and Damian, had flipped their demeanor the moment they thought no one was listening.
Damian deliberately softened his footsteps, eavesdropping as their words grew uglier.
“Does she seriously think she could become Tower Master?”
“Maybe she had a shot before she got married. Who’s going to back a married woman for that role? She could pop out a kid and quit any day.”
“Now that I think about it, she probably only learned magic to snag a good husband. She was never as serious about it as we are.”
“Ugh, from my perspective, I’m just jealous. Born into a good family, dabbles in the Magic Tower, then lands a great marriage.”
“Don’t be jealous! She’ll never climb higher than she is now. Just wait—you’ll overtake her soon enough.”
Their crude laughter grated on Damian’s ears. At first, he was stunned, but soon anger simmered within him.
Aracila had never been anything less than dedicated to her work at the Magic Tower or her craft as a mage. She carried herself with a pride rooted in her skill and accomplishments.
What do they know to talk like that?
Unable to hold back any longer, Damian strode toward the group. “What gives you the right to spew that nonsense?”
His low, resonant voice cut through the air like a blade, and the group froze, their chatter dying instantly. They glanced at him, their faces paling at the sight of his cold, predatory expression, and they hiccuped nervously.
Moments ago, they’d been gossiping with glee, but now, caught red-handed, they clamped their mouths shut, too cowardly to own their words. Damian stepped closer, his voice steady but sharp.
“My wife has no intention of leaving the Magic Tower, and she’s never been anything less than devoted to her magic. She’s not lacking humility—she’s just clear-eyed about her own worth.”
Her business success was real. Her achievements were undeniable. Her skill was exceptional.
To Damian, it made no sense to call it humility when someone denied their obvious strengths or arrogance when they acknowledged them. Those who saw her confidence as pride were already so twisted that they’d criticize her no matter how humbly she responded.
His icy gaze swept over the group, none of whom could meet his eyes, as he delivered his final retort.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
buy me a coffee here to support the translation 🤗🤗🤗
