~Chapter 26~
Over a thousand years ago, my tiny self flickered like an afterimage over Banshee’s face.
“Well, it’s just one god.”
Indeed, eliminating one deity wouldn’t noticeably diminish that formidable power.
He could be easily subdued once his strength returned.
Besides, there was no certainty that the god worshiped by this empire, Armos, was truly “Migael Enoch.”
“Though certainty eludes me, suspicion remains.”
In truth, it was nearly a conviction cloaked as suspicion.
“Um, is your father ill? Does his body stiffen? Like a turtle’s shell?”
Banshee’s eyes widened at Esther’s words.
She had never revealed this secret to anyone—not even her closest neighbors—fearing judgment.
“How did you know that…?”
Esther rolled her eyes playfully.
“I know everything—I’m a genius! Wait a little longer; I’ll solve it. When I do, I’ll call you.”
Then, like a child, she raised her arms and shouted absurdly.
Banshee’s gaze fell upon the bracelet adorning Esther’s wrist.
‘…That bracelet.’
It bore an intricate divine symbol.
“There was a commotion recently at the temple—a new saint and sacred relic appeared. Some say it was the youngest miss.”
Recalling a maid’s tale, Banshee’s eyes widened.
‘Could it truly be…?’
Her shoulders sank with the weight of her past sins.
“Thank you, thank you, Saint. Surely Armos has not forsaken us.”
Esther’s expression tightened.
While others claimed the glory, the true cost fell upon her.
She had intended to help, yet prayers were directed elsewhere.
Turning her face with annoyance, Esther’s irritation was palpable.
‘Is this where the library is?’
Following Shiphon’s directions, Esther moved through the duke’s mansion.
Though it housed a sizable library, it was seldom used.
Unlike usual, wandering alone felt unfamiliar.
Shiphon attended a maid’s training, and Denver had gone out early to fetch supplies.
‘Where does Denver find all these things?’
Frowning slightly, Esther observed.
The parlor, once empty and bare, now held its charm.
Whenever Denver cleaned the annex or went out, he carried furniture—worn yet valuable.
Ros had ventured into the mountains for fresh acorns.
Finally, after wandering with her short legs, Esther arrived at the grand library.
Nestled in a remote corner of the first floor, it appeared neglected and devoid of a caretaker.
Squeezing through a slightly ajar door, the musty scent of aged paper struck her.
Countless books stretched into the horizon—an overwhelming sight.
‘Searching through all this will be a challenge.’
Typically, noble estates organized books by category.
‘I’ve definitely seen that symptom before.’
Either heard of it or seen it; it was a memory from over a millennium ago.
‘I must find medical texts in ancient tongues.’
Amid the vast collection, she located the section of ancient languages.
Near a large window stood a familiar figure, reclining uncomfortably on a luxurious navy velvet sofa.
“…Harabuji?”
Why was he sleeping here?
‘So that’s why the door was open…’
Though unused, the room wasn’t completely abandoned.
He appeared deeply asleep.
‘This sofa was the only spot available.’
The table basked in warm sunlight—perfect for reading.
After some thought, Esther summoned a few books via magic and sat beside the slumbering Ernheart.
The soft rustle of pages stirred him awake.
‘Who has come to this study?’
Visitors were rare, and permission from the duke was mandatory.
He quietly turned his eyes toward the sound.
His pupils dilated upon seeing a tiny child, smaller than expected, flipping through ancient texts adorned with illustrations.
‘Ancient language?’
She was clearly reading with comprehension.
Her delicate frame barely fit on his lap.
Though small for her age, she exhaled a weary sigh, old beyond her years.
‘She’s said to possess divine power.’
Perhaps this bestowed her with extraordinary abilities.
Otherwise, such mastery of ancient languages would be impossible.
“What are you reading so intently?”
“Eek!”
Startled, Esther leapt like a startled fish.
“What was that bizarre noise?”
“Ah, Harabuji…”
Her heart nearly stopped.
‘Did he see everything? Even my muttering?’
Since it was just books, she hoped casual explanations would suffice.
“What are you reading?”
“Well, um…”
“I know you have Armos’s blessing. Though your father tried to silence you, I won’t reveal your secrets. Speak freely.”
An impressive misunderstanding, perfectly executed.
With no reason to hide, Esther answered.
“My father is ill.”
“Illness?”
“Yes! They say if someone reads these books, they can help people!”
“How did you enter here?”
“Through the door,” she replied plainly, pointing.
Ernheart’s lips tightened; his scowl sharpened the atmosphere.
“Do you have no shame? After hearing such things, you calmly read here?”
Such reproach confused Esther.
She tilted her head.
“And why am I your grandchild? You are not my father; your illegitimate offspring born elsewhere are none of my concern!”
Ah, so that was it.
Though harsh, it was not entirely wrong.
“Harabuji speaks true!”
“What?”
“Harabuji and Esther are strangers, yes? I know everything too.”
Ernheart’s pupils narrowed sharply.
She tilted her head again.
‘Is he upset I call him Harabuji despite being unrelated?’
Now she understood his frequent scowls.
“Ah, you dislike being called Harabuji? Fine then… Your Grace!”
Esther beamed.
“Since we aren’t family, calling you Your Grace is fine, right?”
“…”
“I’m a genius! I know everything!”
Bold words, yet where did she stand in this household?
Guest? Intruder? Servant?
“When did I forbid you from calling me that?”
“What? Then I shall continue?”
“…Do as you please.”
“Yay, Harabuji!”
Esther shook her head.
Not family, yet allowed to call him grandfather—how strange.
“You are…”
“Not family, Harabuji. But if this place isn’t family, is it off-limits?”
Ernheart was speechless.
Esther sat on the sofa, blinking expectantly.
‘…Huh?’
No reply came, but above Ernheart’s head appeared an exclamation mark—jet black.
‘Black?’
A color she had never seen.
‘My restored mana is at 8%.’
Helping insignificant humans nearly twenty times yielded only eight percent.
‘Black…’
Currently, she was resolving a red exclamation. Upon reaching ten percent, she could summon a demon.
‘I’ll surpass ten.’
Perhaps up to fifteen percent—enough to challenge most common foes.
As always, a parchment unfurled before her eyes.
