Episode 90

The spellbound were forced to share the caster’s consciousness.

For the past week, Tergon Drenihan had been trapped in the mind of Roil, a reckless and foolish dark mage.

‘To think that I, Tergon Drenihan, would fall to a scoundrel like this,’ he lamented silently.

Roil spent his days haunting gambling dens, lounging at blackjack tables, and gleefully swindling the naive out of their fortunes. His cackling, drunken laughter echoed through the consciousness they shared.

Each passing day, Tergon felt his grasp on his own body weaken. Though his physical form clung to life through sheer willpower, it was clear his time was running out.

‘This ends today,’ Roil boasted to a benefactor not long ago. ‘The old man won’t last the week.’

Roil had received his reward—a golden plaque and a pouch of gold coins—from Marquis Avan himself. With his payment secured, he set out for his sanctuary: the infamous gambling dens of Deveris Street.

Despite his pride, Tergon’s spirit wavered as his connection to his body grew faint. He could feel the spell tightening its grip, draining him of vitality.

‘I always thought I’d face death with dignity,’ he mused, surprised by the regret creeping into his heart.

It wasn’t for his two sons that he lamented.

‘Sierra asked me to go to the New Year’s ball with her next year,’ he thought bitterly. ‘I should have agreed.’

His regrets were for his granddaughter, Sierra. His cold and distant demeanor had made it difficult to express affection, but he cursed himself for not showing her more warmth.

One memory, however, brought him comfort.

‘I love you,’ he had said to her, uncharacteristically, on the morning of the New Year’s ball.

She had turned to him, eyes wide with surprise, before leaving.

‘That expression was worth it,’ he thought with a chuckle.

If only he could see her one last time.

Roil’s voice broke into his thoughts, loud and boisterous.

“Who wants to challenge me next? What, is everyone scared?”

As Roil taunted the crowd, Tergon’s fading consciousness flickered. Through the shared vision of Roil’s eyes, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a girl with pink eyes.

‘Sierra?’

It could have been a trick of his imagination, but when Roil grew agitated at the appearance of a tall man—Ludwig Karsian—Tergon began to suspect otherwise.

As Ludwig calmly dismantled Roil’s fraudulent victories, driving him into a rage, Tergon felt a glimmer of hope.

‘This isn’t a coincidence,’ he realized.

When Sierra stepped into view, Roil’s shocked exclamation confirmed Tergon’s hopes.

“Wait, is that… Sierra Drenihan?”

“Calling someone ‘that’—how rude,” Sierra retorted, unbothered.

The sight of his granddaughter standing there, fearless, overwhelmed Tergon.

‘She came here… for me.’

As Ludwig’s blade struck Roil down, Tergon felt the darkness unravel. The connection to Roil’s consciousness shattered, and he was free.

His body, fragile and weak, lay back in the Drenihan manor, still breathing. His mind, however, was no longer ensnared.

For the first time in days, Tergon felt the weight of the spell lift.

‘I owe them everything.’

Though his body could not yet move, his heart swelled with pride. Sierra had inherited more than his blood; she had inherited his will.

* * *

I headed straight for the Drenihan estate.

Had we succeeded? Was he awake now?

A mix of hope and unease churned within me as I arrived and rushed toward the patriarch’s chambers. My breath hitched as I took in the sight before me: the hallway was packed with people.

Yet…

The servants were weeping, and some distant relatives dressed in black stood solemnly among the crowd.

In the middle of it all was Marquis Avan, shedding crocodile tears.

“…Surely not.”

Had we failed? Why?

My legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed to the floor. My vision blurred, and tears spilled from my eyes, heedless of my will.

“Sniff… sniff…”

This was my fault. If only I’d realized sooner, then…

Amidst the commotion of shocked whispers spreading through the crowd, I couldn’t bring myself to focus on anything else. All I could see were the tears falling onto the floor beneath me.

“Why are you sitting there like that?”

A familiar voice, playful and tinged with a chuckle, cast a long shadow over me.

“Who dared to make you cry?”

Slowly, I lifted my head at the sound of his teasing voice.

Before me knelt my grandfather, meeting my gaze with a crooked smile. His large, calloused hand reached out to gently ruffle my hair.

“…Grandfather?”

My eyes widened in disbelief. Was I seeing things? This couldn’t be…

“Oh dear, Master Tergon! You shouldn’t be moving so soon!”

Grandfather’s steward, Alex, rushed forward, his voice laden with concern.

“I told you, I’m fine now! How many times must I say it?”

“Still, sir…”

It wasn’t just me who was wide-eyed with astonishment. The entire hallway fell silent, all eyes fixed on my grandfather, who stood tall and healthy as if he’d never been ill.

“What’s all this fuss about? Scaring the girl like that.”

Grandfather offered me his hand, helping me shakily to my feet.

A servant stepped forward, bowing deeply as they stammered, “Well, um… the lord, Sir Alex, and several physicians rushed into the patriarch’s chambers, so we thought…”

“You thought I’d died?”

“No, not exactly…”

The most shell-shocked of all was Marquis Avan, standing among the distant relatives, his face pale as a sheet.

Grandfather strode toward him. “You, too, Marquis? You rushed here the moment you heard, didn’t you? Just as if you were waiting for it.”

“N-not at all! We merely came out of deep concern for your health…”

“And dressed in black, no less. Tsk, tsk… what a shame, Marquis. Look at me, so full of life.”

Marquis Avan’s face drained of color. Beside him, Baron Jetrin wore an equally disbelieving expression.

Then, parting through the crowd, my father appeared with a squad of knights in tow.

“Arrest the criminals.”

At his command, the knights moved swiftly, binding both Marquis Avan and Baron Jetrin.

“What is the meaning of this? Criminals? Us?”

“We came here out of concern for the patriarch, and this is how you repay us?”

The crocodile tears vanished, replaced with venomous protests as the two men thrashed against their captors. But their defiance was short-lived.

“Cough, ack…!”

Suddenly, powerful streams of water encircled their necks, cutting off their protests. Their desperate flailing was in vain.

“Fools. Do you truly not understand what my awakening means?” Grandfather’s voice dripped with contempt.

The two men froze, their faces contorting in terror.

“As of this moment, the houses of Marquis Avan and Baron Jetrin are expelled from Drenihan’s protection.”

“…!”

The proclamation was a death sentence. To be severed from Drenihan as branch families meant exile from influence, protection, and power.

“W-what is the meaning of this?”

“How can you suddenly expel us like this?”

Distant relatives murmured in shock, and my father stepped forward to answer.

“Marquis Avan and Baron Jetrin conspired to assassinate the patriarch using forbidden magic.”

“…!”

“Is this true?!”

Freed from the watery bindings, the two men collapsed to the floor, trembling uncontrollably.

They understood well: Tergon’s recovery could only mean their plot had been exposed.

“H-how… No, wait! You have no proof!”

“Yes! Think of our years of loyalty to Drenihan! We would never commit such a heinous act!”

Before they could spout more lies, I stepped forward, glaring down at them.

“Step aside, my lady! This is a matter for the adults—”

Slap!

The sharp sound echoed through the hallway as my palm struck Marquis Avan’s cheek, snapping his head to the side.

“W-what the…”

“I am no mere ‘lady,’ Marquis. I am the heir to Drenihan. Shall we start by addressing your disrespect?”

 

 

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