BTCATL 19

Chapter 19

The Tower Master rummaged through his robe and pulled out a pocket watch identical to the one he had given me.

I blinked.

Unlike mine, which had a simple circular pattern engraved on it, his was marked with intricate geometric designs inside the circle.

“If you learn to properly control the spirits and fully make spirit arts your own, the pocket watch will make its judgment. The circle on yours now means… well, to put it simply, that you’re still an apprentice spirit mage.”

I alternated my gaze between the two pocket watches.

The Tower Master, who had been chuckling as if he had interpreted my gaze in some particular way, suddenly halted and waved his hands frantically.

“Even as an apprentice, as long as you possess the pocket watch, you’re officially a spirit mage of the Northern Tower. You can still conduct research and such. The only difference is that you won’t be dispatched for outside missions like handling monsters or other assignments.”

I looked at the butterflies flitting their wings in a crimson shimmer.

I had sensed it vaguely even back when I couldn’t control them—forming a contract with spirits wasn’t everything.

I remembered the man and Ledin saying it was even more so because the ones I contracted with were Nyxes.

They said it was to be expected, and even strange that I didn’t go berserk the moment the contract was made.

I pressed my lips together.

“There’s no need to rush developing your restraint. Yes, we’re short-handed, but the tower isn’t that desperate. It would be better for you to take your time. More than anything, spirits of darkness are not easily controlled.”

I slowly lowered my eyes.

Even though I had acquired the power of spirits, being ruled by it rather than using it properly wasn’t what I wanted.

They say spirit mages and spirits are one body, but that didn’t seem to apply to me.

I could feel their emotions, and they could feel mine.

But—

—[Asilla, no.]

—[We have to attack.]

—[It’s dangerous.]

I remembered how, even when I told them to stop, the butterflies ignored my will and instead tried to devour me with their own aggressive intent.

Being overwhelmed by emotions that weren’t my own was a terrifying experience.

In the end, what stopped them wasn’t conscious control, but the explosion of emotion—what they called a “word of command.”

If it hadn’t been for that, would the butterflies have stopped?

I wasn’t sure.

Trying to recall the moment before I collapsed made my head throb painfully.

Unconsciously pressing my temples, I felt the butterflies flutter down gently onto my shoulders, as if concerned.

They were the ones who saved me when Sarsha tried to kill me.

The ones who made me a spirit mage.

But…

I took a deep breath to clear my increasingly tangled thoughts and looked at the butterflies with an indifferent gaze.

I was sorry to them, but I wanted power that was truly mine—not something so immense it could devour me at any moment.

The sooner, the better. Taking my time was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

I clenched my fists.

“…I’ll do it.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll do it now. Right away.”

The Tower Master looked at me with a startled expression. Even Ledin, who had silently supported me, seemed taken aback.

But the one most surprised was me.

As I looked silently at them, the Tower Master hesitantly spoke.

“Of course, I suggested you take your time for your own sake—but also because there’s no one right now who can handle your power. You used a word of command unconsciously, right?”

I looked at him, dazed, and gave a slow nod.

“As you’ve heard, darkness spirits are hard to control, but that also means they’re incredibly powerful. Only someone as strong as me or another Tower Master could help suppress your power and train your control. But I have a mission to go on tomorrow. And as for Ledin…”

The nymphs hovering beside Ledin shrieked and hid behind his back.

“I’m afraid I can’t be around Nyxes for long. The nymphs fear them too much.”

I bit my lip at Ledin’s polite refusal.

“But since your will is clear, we’ll do our best to make sure you can begin within the month…”

“Hey, old man. You got a hole in your head or something?”

Just as I was about to accept that plan, a rough voice interrupted, cutting off the Tower Master’s words.

A man leaning lazily against the wall strode over, slung an arm around my shoulder, and plopped onto the sofa.

“…Could you take your arm off me this instant?”

Ledin growled from behind, and the man raised his hands playfully, red eyes gleaming.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

Ledin scowled deeply.

“Absolutely not, Asilla. Do not accept.”

Not knowing what was going on, I looked blankly at the smirking man.

“Let me formally introduce myself, little sister. I’m Calios, the Tower Master of the Western Spirit Tower. If you want, I’m willing to stay in the North until you’re able to fully control them.”

I found myself slightly agape.

This man… was a Tower Master?

“How is Asilla your sister?”

“We both contracted with Nyxes. That makes us practically family.”

Calios gave a sly smile at Ledin’s low, sharp tone, as if inviting me to choose.

“…What about the Western Tower?”

When the old man asked, Calios waved it off.

“My assistant’s capable enough. This isn’t the first time I’ve left my post.”

The old man hesitated for a moment before nodding.

“Dialune!”

Ledin protested strongly, but the Tower Master raised a hand to stop him.

“Even if we contacted the East, it’s uncertain whether they’d help—and you know that boy is far better than their Tower Master. Of course, Asilla, the final decision is yours.”

Crack.

The sound of Ledin grinding his teeth was loud and clear, but he didn’t object further.

Mentioning the Eastern Tower Master seemed to hold him in check.

“So, what’ll it be?”

Calios’s first impression had been intense—and not in a good way—but I remembered how easily he’d deflected the butterflies’ attack.

I was sorry to Ledin, but urgency won out.

I nodded.

Calios’s eyes curved, his expression blooming into a pleased smile.

“I’m gonna work you hard, so no crying, little sister. Got it?”

Slightly—just slightly—if you ignored the ominous vibe, it wasn’t a bad deal.

“…The Grand Duchess still hasn’t returned?”

A week had passed since the Grand Duchess, Princess Asilla, had thrown down the divorce papers and vanished.

At the butler’s shake of the head, Duke Karl von Ludwig of the North furrowed his brow and sighed.

She was an utterly shameless woman.

Yes, she had reason to be angry. But the irony was, she had no right to be angry in the first place.

Sure, a fall from the fifth floor could be fatal. He had even witnessed Sarsha push her. In that moment, who the perpetrator was had been clear.

Yes, in that moment.

—Do you know what she said to me, Karl? She said it didn’t matter since he didn’t die. My child! My poor Serb! Sob…

But it was self-defense, nothing more.

To dare poison a child steadily, then say “he didn’t die, so what’s the problem” to his mother’s face?

Sarsha had even gone out of her way to create an opportunity for them to bond.

How could anyone with a human face feed poison to an innocent baby?

She had escaped from the attic, where she’d been locked up for reflection, just to spout such madness to Sarsha.

If that wasn’t self-defense, then what was?

Sarsha was a fragile, helpless woman.

He had watched her and Serb closely. He knew better than anyone how worn down she had become.

He recalled her pale face as she gasped out the humiliations she’d suffered from the princess—reluctantly, yet desperately.

She used to have a rosy, lovable glow to her cheeks. But after a month of Serb’s illness, she had wasted away.

The smile that had always graced her face was gone, replaced with a blank expression.

Serb’s health was gradually improving after the near-death experience, but in contrast, Sarsha couldn’t even rise from bed.

Even when she did, she would stumble and collapse after a short walk in the garden.

All the more so after she pushed the princess.

And it wasn’t even as if the princess had been harmed—she was a mage.

Karl’s heart ached as he looked at Sarsha.

The princess, pushed from the fifth floor, didn’t have a single scratch. She was a mage.

Whether she stopped herself deliberately or instinctively, the servants in the garden said they saw her body slow midair and land safely.

Unlike Sarsha, who was deteriorating by the day, the princess lay there as if in peaceful slumber, without a scratch.

It made Karl want to strangle her.

He hated her very presence.

And yet—

—Duke, please divorce me.

—If this is your answer to what I asked earlier… then yes, I have one.

—Please agree to process it. You hate me anyway.

Why, then? Why had his eyes been drawn so suddenly to those golden eyes he had never once properly looked into during their entire marriage?

The emotions in them pierced his heart.

Pain. Suffering. Exhaustion. Fatigue. Depression.

There was not a single positive feeling in her eyes.

He had seen eyes like that before.

When? When was it?

Why had he answered her request and agreed to process the divorce papers?

At first, he didn’t even realize she had vanished.

Two days passed. Then three. Four. When he realized he hadn’t seen her once, he checked the room they used to share.

That’s when he realized—she had left.

He didn’t think she had left for good. He knew her situation better than anyone.

Abandoned princess. Nominal duchess.

No place in the North would accept her.

She would come back.

He would let her back in.

But he would keep her locked away—where Sarsha and the child would never see her.

His revenge wasn’t finished.

She didn’t know how much her golden eyes, the mark of royalty, made him sick.

Compared to what he’d endured in his youth, what she’d suffered—and would suffer—was nothing.

Too little. This wasn’t enough.

More… No, what am I thinking?

In his swirling mind, those eyes filled with agony kept flashing by.

Why was he taking revenge on the princess?

He thought he saw a black butterfly that shouldn’t have been visible.

The blue in his dull eyes slowly began to return.

His mind felt tangled, like twisted thread.

The princess? Where was she? What was happening?

“Karl!”

A whiff of sweetness and pink hair flew toward him.

The brief clarity in his eyes faded again.

What had he just been thinking about?

Ah. Right. That damned princess.

Even if she begged on her knees, he would never grant her freedom again. Royalty didn’t need such things.

She would suffer as much as he had.

Holding the woman he adored in his arms, Karl erased the flicker of doubt that had just crossed his mind.