Chapter 65
Ishuel knew she had been born with a talent for magic.
She was one of the rarest mages on the entire continent, her kind numbering only a handful.
When her talent was revealed,
Duke Evroyel caused quite a stir.
He insisted on taking her himself to provide intensive training, practically vibrating with excitement.
But Kierne didn’t force any magical education on Ishuel.
When she said she had no interest in magic, he casually fended off the persistent duke.
“I’ll teach her magic when she wants it.”
Even though she possessed exceptional mana, if Ishuel wasn’t inclined, he seemed perfectly content to let it lie dormant forever.
It wasn’t typical behavior.
Especially since Kierne himself was a mage.
She had said she didn’t want to learn magic, but with Kierne’s enthusiastic support, she found herself growing curious instead.
Ishuel asked him why.
“You need desperation to grow strong.”
Kierne was relaxed.
Drawing on that Basilian arrogance, he offered leisurely advice.
“All the effort others build over years—you can shatter it with your talent alone.”
“So do what you want, when you want, Ishuel.”
“You’re a Basilian, after all.”
Thanks to that, Ishuel could live freely.
She memorized a few useful spells half-heartedly, using them roughly when needed, and that was it.
She never once felt regret.
She had no interest in fighting others, and if such situations arose, Karha usually handled them for her anyway.
Even if someone attacked Ishuel occasionally,
a couple of spells infused with strong mana would sort it all out.
She wasn’t planning to become a scholar or a combat mercenary, so she figured she’d never properly learn magic in the future…
But today, Ishuel felt that “desperation” Kierne had spoken of for the first time.
To catch her falling sibling, she drew a magic circle.
The circle she sketched with trembling hands was pitiful.
It was one she’d only glimpsed once, so she couldn’t even be sure she’d drawn it correctly.
A dazzling golden light rose, and the wind lifted Chesha—that much succeeded.
But her mana spiraled out of control.
Pushed by the errant force, Chesha was flung into the air.
The moment she saw that small body bouncing away like a limp ball,
Ishuel felt her heart ripping apart.
In that instant, she couldn’t breathe.
She desperately drew another magic circle, but it was already too late.
Chesha fell.
Fortunately, Kierne used dark magic to catch her.
Confirming her sibling was safe, Ishuel collapsed to the floor.
“……”
She felt wretched.
If only she’d known how to use magic properly from the start…
She hadn’t felt this pathetic since her mother’s death—this was the second time.
Ishuel bit her lip hard.
She wanted power.
So she would never lose her sibling right before her eyes again.
“Teach me magic.”
She would become a mage.
The sound of water droplets falling echoed slowly.
The steam-filled bathroom was hazy and opaque.
The forearms resting on the marble tub were woven with sleek muscles.
Droplets trickled slowly along the sharply defined lines of those muscles.
Even submerged in hot water, the chill in the man’s blue eyes refused to fade.
He swept back his wet hair, revealing a pale, straight forehead.
His lips parted slightly beneath a sharply arched nose.
“Haa…”
With a small exhale, he closed his eyes gently for a moment.
Then, opening them suddenly, he rose from the tub.
Water cascaded down as his drenched, naked form was fully exposed.
Adorned only with bracelets on both wrists, his body was that of a knight honed to the extreme.
The straight frame and taut, rippling muscles formed lines that were beautiful yet sharp.
It was truly a physique most befitting the praise of “God’s Sword.”
Yet this body, which should have been flawlessly beautiful, bore horrific scars.
Eight long scars etched from his shoulder blades down the entire length of his back.
Four on each side of the spine, they almost resembled the remnants of wings at first glance.
It was an unbelievable sight on the body of one of the Holy Empire’s foremost knights.
Those belonging to the Holy Empire lived without any wounds or scars.
Their bodies, dedicated wholly to God, were to remain pure down to a single strand of hair—that was the principle.
Holy Knights endured countless brutal trainings yet bore not a single scratch on their bodies.
They healed everything cleanly with divine power.
But Hailon’s body was defiled.
Not just because of those ragged scars that looked like torn flesh.
“……”
He placed a hand over his collarbone.
He brushed over the red floral pattern, then stepped fully out of the tub.
He dried himself with a towel and donned his everyday clothes.
Having received the ordination of a Holy Knight, even his casual attire was the standard-issue uniform with a high collar that reached up to his neck—stifling in its design.
Hailon stood before the mirror, fastening the silver buttons on the deep indigo fabric one by one.
He stared at his reflection with expressionless eyes.
Until the floral pattern etched on his body was completely concealed by the clothing.
Fully dressed, he stepped outside, where Daren waited with an anxious face.
“Sir Hailon.”
His face was stiff with tension.
“The Holy King summons you.”
“Tell him to wait.”
“But… perhaps it’s best to humor him a bit this time.”
It was about destroying the temple.
And one located in the capital of the Palen Empire, no less.
Hailon had already been showing suspicious behavior lately.
Under the Holy King’s watchful eye, smashing a temple meant it wouldn’t be overlooked.
The Holy King would “educate” his favored knight to bring him back to his senses.
A cold sweat trickled down Daren’s spine.
Unlike Daren, who trembled in fear until his face paled, Hailon remained impassive.
He even seemed bored.
He uttered a brief phrase.
“One week.”
“…Pardon?”
Leaving the quivering Daren to repeat the question, Hailon continued slowly.
“In one week, I’ll meet Count Basilian and return to the Holy Empire.”
“Is it worth that much?”
Due to memory manipulation, Daren didn’t know that Count Basilian was a dark mage.
Even if he did know he was a dark mage,
he would think it wasn’t worth defying the enraged Holy King’s orders.
Hailon felt the same.
In truth, if he hadn’t heard those words, he would have returned immediately to appease the Holy King’s anger.
“Are you perhaps interested in the fact that the Holy Empire conducted horrific experiments on fairies?”
What on earth was the world’s most infamous seductress fleeing from?
Hailon had wondered while tracking her movements.
Lichesia was more than capable of killing those pursuing her.
But if the opponent was the Holy Empire, that changed everything.
He’d need to see the information Count Basilian brought to confirm, but if someone high-ranking enough—beyond his knowledge—was leading the experiments…
Hailon habitually rubbed the bracelet on his wrist.
Pushing aside the faint rattle of chains lingering in his ears, his thoughts shifted to the baby with pink eyes.
Chesha Basilian.
The infant at the center of everything unfolding now.
“Where’s the child?”
“Playing with the servants. She’s so pretty and cute that everyone adores her.”
The seductress was the same.
Everyone desired her.
They might curse her behind her back, but in her presence, they wore entranced expressions, desperate for even a sliver of her attention.
No one could resist her.
It was stranger that a woman surrounded by such interest had never formed a relationship with anyone until now.
Even though he understood all this logically,
every time he thought of Lichesia giving her heart to someone, Hailon’s insides twisted.
