‘I’m screwed.’
Ian shut his eyes tightly.
Had he known the child would see him, he wouldn’t have come here like this.
But now it was far too late to regret.
Instead, Ian acted swiftly.
He quickly turned around and gave Rose a bright smile.
“Rose.”
The more fuss people make around a frightened child, the more overwhelmed the child becomes.
But if you act like nothing’s wrong, they often forget what scared them in the first place.
“Uncle! Uncle!”
Rose came running with tears welling up in her eyes.
Ian scooped her into his arms and planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Rose, did you miss your uncle that much?”
Through her tears, Rose spoke.
“Uncle, are you hurt? Are you going to die like Mommy?”
A sharp pain pricked Ian’s chest, just when he thought his heart had healed.
It wasn’t the sight of blood that scared Rose—she was terrified that Ian might die like her mother.
“No, why would Uncle die? Don’t cry, Rose.”
“But… but…”
Rose’s gaze drifted to Ian’s clothes, soaked in red.
“Oh, that’s what scared you.”
“Scared me?”
Ian gently wiped away her flowing tears and said.
“This isn’t blood. It’s paint.”
The people watching the two looked dumbfounded.
How could anyone call something that clearly looked like blood paint?
But Ian ignored their stares and continued calmly.
“You know Uncle was working, right?”
Rose nodded.
“Well, there was a prankster there who splashed paint on me as a joke.”
He gave her nose a playful pinch.
“Do I look like I’m in pain?”
Rose carefully studied his face.
There were still traces of red that hadn’t been cleaned off, but… he didn’t look sick like her mother did.
Rose shook her head side to side.
“See? Uncle was wrong. If I knew Rose would be this surprised, I would’ve washed up first. But… I really, really missed you, so I rushed over.”
Rose pouted, then wrapped her arms around Ian’s neck.
‘That went better than expected, right?’
Ian sighed in relief and gently patted Rose on the back.
“You there.”
Bernaba, who had been following behind at a relaxed pace, frowned at Ian.
Ian put a finger to his lips, signaling for quiet.
Then, bowing his head slightly, Ian silently apologized to the displeased Bernaba and asked Kura.
“Could you guide me to a place? I need to get cleaned up.”
“Of course.”
Ian, with Rose rubbing her face against his shoulder, followed Kura toward the room.
Since it had been arranged in advance that he’d share a room with Rose, the room was spacious.
“What about my room?”
Edelmar, who had followed Ian, asked Kura.
“It’s the room next door.”
Edelmar nodded and went to the adjacent room, and then Kura turned back to Ian and asked.
“What would you like to do about dinner?”
“What about Rose?”
“She already ate with Fenrex.”
Ian’s gaze turned toward the window.
Since it had taken quite some time to travel from the village to the royal capital, night had already fallen and stars filled the sky.
“I’m fine.”
“Alright. The luggage you brought has been organized by the maids, and your companions are all resting now.”
“Thank you.”
When Ian thanked her, Kura excused herself and left the room so he could rest.
Still holding Rose, Ian headed to the bathroom.
Though Rose’s hair had still been slightly damp when she ran into his arms—suggesting she had already bathed—she had hugged Ian, who was covered in blood, so now she had to bathe again.
“Rose, it’s been a while. Want to take a bath with Uncle?”
He asked while filling the tub with bubbles.
Rose didn’t answer until the tub was completely filled, then she nodded silently.
Ian kissed the crown of her head and helped her bathe.
After washing in warm water and drying her hair, Rose began nodding off.
Ian chuckled softly and gently laid her on the bed.
Knock knock.
The knock came right on cue. When Ian opened the door, Edelmar and Bernaba were standing outside.
“We need to talk.”
Ian glanced over at Rose.
If this were a battlefield operation, it’d be one thing, but he didn’t feel comfortable leaving Rose alone in the royal palace.
Sensing Ian’s concern, Bernaba said,
“I’ll put a soundproofing spell around her.”
Ian nodded and stepped aside.
As soon as he entered, Bernaba checked on Rose’s face.
Even though she hadn’t cried much, tear stains still marked her cheeks.
Clicking his tongue as if displeased, Bernaba reached out his hand and gently touched her slightly puffy eyes. Almost immediately, her eyes looked completely normal again.
Ian was a bit surprised.
He had known Bernaba cared about Rose, but he hadn’t expected him to be so bothered by a little swelling that he’d go as far as healing it.
“Let’s talk.”
Bernaba, having cast the soundproofing spell, walked over to the sofa.
Once everyone was seated, Bernaba was the first to speak.
“What happened?”
Ian explained in detail everything that had happened in the village.
“Were you planning to die there?”
At the mention that he had coughed up blood after using both magic and aura, Bernaba scolded him.
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“Then what? You weren’t planning to die, and yet you pushed yourself to the point of coughing up blood? Do you not realize what state you’re in?”
“The situation was urgent.”
Ian looked toward Edelmar as if asking for support, but Edelmar merely stared back expressionlessly and said nothing.
Ian sighed and tried to explain.
“I had consumed two sacred relics, and my condition wasn’t bad. Even coughing up blood wouldn’t be fatal.”
“You didn’t cough up blood from internal injuries like a normal person. The damage was spiritual, and it manifested physically. And yet you’re saying it wasn’t life-threatening? Do you not understand why they attacked you? Their goal was your death. Whether you died from overexerting yourself or from being stabbed, it didn’t matter—their objective would’ve been achieved either way.”
Ian silently lowered his gaze.
“If you were going to use magic, you should’ve used teleportation to get out of there. By staying and fighting, you were playing right into their hands! How could you not realize that?!”
Tap!
A small hand slapped the table.
It wasn’t loud or forceful—far from threatening.
Ian held back a laugh and responded.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that.”
The truth was, Ian had considered that option.
But he figured that if he could capture at least one of them alive and get information, it would be worth coughing up blood a few times.
Just as Bernaba clicked his tongue and was about to start scolding again, Edelmar spoke first.
“What was that lightning?”
“Pardon? Do you mean the magic?”
“No. That wasn’t magic.”
“If it wasn’t magic, then how would I be able to use lightning?”
Ian played dumb.
He was the only one in this world who knew about skills.
No one else could understand them.
So if Ian insisted it was magic, they’d have no choice but to accept it as such.
‘Even if they don’t believe me, what can they do? They’d never figure out what a skill is anyway.’
Edelmar raised an eyebrow at Ian’s response.
“So, you’re saying it was magic?”
“Yes.”
“But the mana didn’t move.”
“You probably couldn’t sense it because of the distance. I was in the sky, after all.”
Ian smiled brightly as he answered. Edelmar gave a dry chuckle.
As a swordmaster, Edelmar could sense the movement of mana.
Whenever Ian used magic, Edelmar had always felt the mana flow.
The same was true when he used illusions.
But the lightning had been different.
That time, there had been no mana movement at all.
And right after Ian unleashed the lightning, the mana he’d been surrounding himself with vanished instantly.
The only reason Edelmar had even noticed Ian falling was because he sensed the sudden disappearance of mana.
‘So, you’re going to play dumb, huh?’
Looking at Ian’s determined expression to stick with his story, Edelmar smirked.
“Fine. I’ll let it slide this time.”
Since he would be staying close to Ian anyway, he figured he’d eventually figure out the truth behind the lightning. There was no need to press and possibly offend a being that could make even the void forget itself.
Unaware of Edelmar’s thoughts, Ian simply felt relieved that the questioning was over.
Bernaba, who had been watching the two, tapped on the table.
“I have a question too, Ian. Did you meet someone?”
“Huh? I just explained everything, didn’t I?”
Bernaba shook his head.
“No, not the dark mage or the swordsman. Someone else—did you meet anyone?”
“I didn’t meet anyone else.”
“Then why do I sense divine energy from you?”
“You sense divine energy from me? Ah… the priest.”
Just as Ian recalled the priest, Edelmar spoke up.
“He met a priest.”
“A priest?”
Bernaba raised a brow at that, and Edelmar explained about the blue-haired, half-blooded priest who had appeared while Ian was unconscious.
“He had blue ears?”
“Yes.”
“And he was brought by a snow leopard?”
“Yes.”
Bernaba sighed with clear displeasure.
“Again…”
Ian tilted his head and asked,
“Again? Do you know this priest?”
Bernaba waved the question off.
“Never mind that. How’s your condition?”
“I’m fine.”
Ian replied honestly.
He had felt dizzy when he first woke up in the house, but as time passed, even the pain that had been throbbing in his body vanished. His body, which had felt slightly heavy, now felt light again.
If he hadn’t been told by the priest that he received divine power, Ian might have thought coughing up blood had somehow helped heal him instead.
“I figured as much.”
Bernaba smirked and stood up from his seat.
“I’ll be away for a bit.”
“Where are you going?”
Ian stood up and asked, but Bernaba looked him up and down.
Click.
He tutted, as though looking at a pitiful man.
“Take Rose with you for the time being.”
“What? But—”
“If she’s not with you, you’ll throw yourself into danger again. Better to keep her close.”
Feeling like the roles had somehow reversed, Ian furrowed his brows.
“I won’t be gone long, so don’t worry. Edelmar,”
Edelmar turned to look at him.
“Come. I have something to discuss with you.”
As Bernaba walked out, his ponytail swaying, Ian stood there, stunned. Edelmar rose from his seat.
“Are we moving again tomorrow?”
“Yes. We have to go. I want to finish this quickly.”
“I see.”
With just that brief reply, Edelmar also exited, leaving Ian looking baffled.
‘What on earth is going on?’
***
Back in his room, Edelmar approached Bernaba, who was already drinking tea like it was his own space.
As he sat down across from him and began pouring himself a cup, Bernaba set his down and asked.
“Is there nothing else you’d like to say about the priest? That guy wouldn’t have just given divine power and walked away, would he?”
Edelmar’s hand froze mid-pour.
“…How did you know?”
“…Because I know that priest is meddlesome.”
“You know him?”
Bernaba muttered with annoyance.
“Yeah. I know him too well, that’s the problem. So, what did he say?”
“He said that if I let go of what’s in my hand, I wouldn’t be able to get it back. So I shouldn’t let it slip away.”
“What’s in your hand?”
Bernaba repeated, lifting his teacup again.
“Yes.”
“Hm.”
Bernaba let out a low groan.
He stayed still for a while, holding the cup, clearly lost in thought. Then he sighed deeply.
“So, he did it on purpose.”
Clicking his tongue, Bernaba pulled his hand away from the cup and crossed his arms, now wearing a dissatisfied expression as he stared at Edelmar.
“What’s the problem?”
“…You’re the problem. Of all people, why him?”
Shaking his head in disapproval, Bernaba stood up.
“I’m heading out.”
With a snap of his fingers, the surroundings instantly shifted—from a luxurious royal chamber to a dim, shadowy cave.
Feeling the chill in the air, Bernaba clicked his tongue once more.
“Why him, of all people, as the hero’s companion…”
