Chapter 6:
The butterfly turned into a transparent orb and displayed something. As soon as the projection ended, Damian and Ayla’s eyes met. Damian snapped his fingers, and in an instant, the location changed. They were now in the hallway where the department office was located. Damian whispered into the ear of a bewildered Ayla.
“Don’t worry—we’re invisible.”
She had once heard from her longtime friend, Serena, who was a student in the Department of Magic, that using magic consumed a great deal of energy. Of course, the more mana one had, the less strain it placed on the body, but being able to use magic as easily as breathing was nothing short of monstrous.
The amount of mana one could store in their body was limited, so even the mages of the Tower often used artifacts or drew power from mana stones. Serena had called Damian a monster.
‘No, he’s not a monster—he’s a genius. That kind of talent is innate. A body that can hold infinite mana? It’s absurd. No wonder the Magic Tower went crazy. Someone like that comes once in a millennium, and he just happens to be the Crown Prince.’
Serena’s ramblings from long ago came back to her.
“Ayla. Look over there.”
Snapping out of her thoughts, Ayla followed the tip of Damian’s finger. She saw someone walking away. The figure looked unstable—unsteady.
“Is that what you saw?”
“…No. It’s different.”
It was different. Not the figure she had seen. This was what Damian had seen—someone with a small frame and brown hair.
“That’s the version of Gillota you described.”
“Seems like it…”
Damian flicked his finger. A sparkling butterfly fluttered over and landed on someone’s shoulder.
“It’s either the real Gillota or someone else disguised as them…”
“…Or it was an illusion from the start.”
Ayla spoke with a sigh. The scene unfolding before her was unbelievable. The butterfly fell.
It fell to the floor. Damian moved toward it. Since he was still holding her hand, Ayla had no choice but to follow. He bent down and picked up the butterfly. The fragile creature fluttered once on his fingertip—and then disappeared. Just like the person with the unstable appearance who had vanished without a trace.
Ayla continued staring at the floor, still holding Damian’s hand.
Gillota’s leave of absence was submitted. Any lingering interest in her disappeared completely. But not for Damian and Ayla. The person who came to submit the form wasn’t Gillota. It had been an illusion.
Ayla couldn’t bring herself to go to Caelum like she usually did. Now, they truly had no way of knowing whether Gillota was alive or dead. Even if they reported it to the city guards now, no one would listen—after all, Gillota had officially taken a leave of absence. Investigating her disappearance would require separating the two of them for questioning. And perhaps… perhaps this disappearance—
That suspicion soon became certainty.
In Damian’s room, Ayla sat quietly, watching him. The table was stacked with documents of unknown origin. Damian, wearing glasses, was carefully reviewing them. Since when did he wear glasses? In the past, she used to know everything about Damian. But now… it felt like the things she didn’t know were slowly increasing.
The sight of Damian with glasses was unfamiliar and strangely intriguing. Her heart pounded. She knew what that meant. But she couldn’t allow herself to acknowledge it.
Damian handed her one of the documents. Ayla examined it slowly. So far, three royal tombs had been discovered. This document contained the records of those who had entered them. It was information a mere student shouldn’t have access to. Had Damian used his authority as the Crown Prince? But suddenly requesting something like this was odd—unless…
“…You didn’t steal this, did you, Damian?”
“Of course not, Ayla. It’s just a copy. The original is with the Ministry of Magic.”
He replied casually, but Ayla suddenly felt a headache coming on.
“And how did you get this copy?”
“Ayla. There’s nowhere I can’t go. I’m a mage.”
“Even if you are, meddling with national secrets is a crime, Damian.”
“Well, that’s when I’d need to borrow some… influence, wouldn’t I?”
Damian smiled sweetly, and Ayla let out a deep sigh.
“So? What am I supposed to be looking at here?”
“That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“This herb.”
Damian pointed to a word circled in red on the paper. It took Ayla a moment to recognize the name.
“Solledina can only be harvested once a year. And each time, the personnel involved were different. Most importantly, it’s been banned for harvesting for the past three years, so there are no recent entry records.”
Damian took off his glasses. Ayla suddenly wished he’d wear them a bit longer. But she snapped back to focus.
“But if someone from Division 3 was involved, couldn’t it be possible?”
“No. It shouldn’t be possible. That would mean the Magic Tower is involved. But the mages who manage the tomb rotate every three months. Any illegal entry would alter the enchantment formulas—and that’s not something you can miss. Once a formula is disrupted, it’s almost impossible to restore. But there’s no trace of any tampering.”
As she listened, Ayla realized that her wild suspicions were gradually becoming certainty. A far-fetched theory that somehow made sense. Maybe Damian was thinking the same thing.
Someone who could enter and exit the tomb without leaving any trace. The illusion that submitted Gillota’s leave of absence.
There was only one conclusion.
“…A mage not affiliated with the Tower.”
Their eyes met. Ayla knew instantly—Damian was thinking the same thing. It had to be a mage. Only a mage could avoid suspicion despite being an illusion, and enter the royal tombs without a trace. And not just any mage—a powerful one, perhaps on par with Damian.
It meant… there was another monster.
“Damian. I think we’re going to need something.”
The drug Gillota had either taken or made. A drug made from Solledina. But how could they get their hands on something so obscure? The investigation wasn’t even heading in that direction. There was only one place to go—where the black market thrived.
As if reading her thoughts, Damian said firmly:
“No. It’s too dangerous.”
“But you’re with me.”
“…”
“Still no?”
Ayla was clever. She knew he was just as weak to her as she was to him. Those sparkling amethyst-like eyes looked up at him, and Damian couldn’t bring himself to say no. His mind raced. It wasn’t just the back alley that posed a risk. The real danger was the possibility of encountering that unknown mage. Acting without knowing the enemy’s identity was reckless.
And Ayla knew that. Yet she was still pushing forward. Was it her sense of duty as the Duke of Durman’s daughter? But Ayla had abandoned that duty when she fled to the academy.
“Damian.”
She called his name insistently. She wasn’t going to give up. If she came at him like this, he had no choice. He needed a new plan. And then—an idea struck him. A good one. Though if Ayla found out, she might have a fit.
“…Fine. Okay. But there’s a condition.”
“What is it?”
“You trust me, right, Ayla?”
Damian smiled sweetly at her. It was a suspicious smile, but Ayla nodded.
That was her first mistake.
The name that meant “night” suited him perfectly. The night was his world. It had always been, since childhood. No one could recognize him. He was truly himself.
It was a night without even a moon. He looked up at the sky, then looked down. The pitch-black river below seemed ready to swallow everything. Then came a splash—something fell in.
He turned and opened his right hand. A faint ripple—one that dispelled an illusion. Things were about to get interesting.
He took a candy from his inner pocket and popped it into his mouth. Click. Click. It rolled between his teeth, offering him no pleasure. But it wasn’t for him.
It had started in the back alleys. The empire, once glorified, meant nothing to those who lived there. The thing he had created spread fast—much faster than expected. From the slums to the commoners.
He had gained glory. And that glory would become the power he needed to realize his dream.
That’s why he came here.
He stepped into a building. Inside was as dark as the street outside.
Screeeech. Crack! Hrk!
Grotesque screams pierced the darkness. He was annoyed—another failure. With a flick of his finger, the sounds ceased.
He closed his eyes. Silence wrapped around him like the night.
He was starting to like his name.
The next day, a body floated to the surface of the lower Hudson River.
