Episode 31
Flight(3)
‘It’s been a while, but nothing’s changed.’
The hallway was spotless, not a speck of dust in sight, and a plush red carpet stretched neatly along the corridor.
The statues lining the path were placed with precise calculation, creating a tense and almost neurotic sense of beauty—as if proclaiming, “This is what it means to be Trearn.”
The first place Lerry visited as he flew down the hallway was the room of the Trearn family’s eldest son, Iren.
His room was conveniently located near the window where Lerry had landed, making it an easy entrance.
Iren von Trearn, the first of two successors to the count’s household, was also the half-brother of Lowell von Trearn.
Blood runs thick, it seemed—they shared similarities, yet were strikingly different.
Where Lowell wore a naturally fierce face softened by his ever-present smirk, making him look sly and irritating, Aron used his already harsh expression to full effect—always furrowing his brows to make others flinch and keep their distance.
Of course, the eldest son of a noble family wouldn’t be holed up in his room in the middle of the day, so Lerry had free reign to explore as he pleased.
Thanks to Iren’s infamous temper and the fact that even the household staff avoided the room at his orders, it was practically deserted—a small stroke of luck for Lerry.
Perched on the candlestick by the large door, Lerry scanned the room.
The tightly shut door and the dimly glowing magical lights created a gloomy, oppressive atmosphere. The chill in the air made Lerry shudder and ruffle his feathers.
Just then, the doorknob rattled softly.
Was someone trying to enter? Lerry, forgetting he was invisible, instinctively curled up his wings in fear.
A voice sounded urgently from outside.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”
“Huh? It’s the big cleaning day. I need to clean in here too.”
“Don’t. That room’s off-limits. If the eldest young master finds out, you’ll be beaten.”
“Why? What kind of room is it?”
“How should I know? He doesn’t even let his own wife in. He manages it himself. Don’t get curious and end up causing trouble. There are plenty of other places that need cleaning.”
“R-Really? That was close… I almost got stuck with a beating just for trying to tidy up.”
“It’s locked anyway. Don’t waste your strength. Come help in another area.”
The rattling stopped soon after, and the voices faded away down the hall.
Lerry cautiously peeked over his wing to confirm the room was still empty.
“Whew… That was close. I almost became a decorative bird before I could even report back. If I got caught in a place like this, Master would never let me live it down.”
Muttering to shake off the lingering fear, Lerry fluttered down onto a nearby table.
Oddly, though there was a table, there wasn’t a single chair in sight. The surroundings were strewn with torn-up papers, ripped envelopes, and broken quill pens.
Despite their chaotic appearance, every item bore a small name—Lowell.
These were likely letters from various families and seminar invitations, sent by people who hadn’t forgotten the “greatest genius mage of his generation” during his academy days.
Some even asked how he was doing.
Lowell had rarely attended social gatherings, but his talent and striking looks had made him a figure of influence. Even now, years later, noble ladies continued to write letters asking after him.
But none of those letters had ever reached him.
They had been torn apart, scribbled over with ink, or completely blacked out with angry lines.
There was so much malice in the destruction that it went beyond neglect—this was calculated erasure.
It was a chilling sight—far too eerie for simple cleaning.
Lerry felt that it was sheer luck those maids had been kept from entering this room.
After all, the eldest son of the Trearn family had a temper as harsh as his attitude. He wouldn’t hesitate to raise a hand even against his younger brother, who was taller and stronger than him.
If this room had revealed his hidden insecurities, it wouldn’t be strange for someone to disappear without a trace.
Most disturbing of all was the paper knife embedded squarely in the center of the desk, exuding a dark and violent aura.
The hatred and resentment that radiated from this place made Lerry instinctively flee through the large window, wings flapping in panic. He made his way to the largest nearby room.
Based on the layout of the mansion, it had to be Count Trearn’s study.
The moment he entered, Lerry felt his blood run cold again. This was a place people often visited, meaning there was a greater chance he’d be caught.
He had to be quick.
He flew over to the count’s desk and scanned the documents on top.
One of the pages listed three names he recognized. Excited by the familiar names, he quickly read through the contents—then immediately shot toward the window like his tail was on fire.
“This is bad. Really bad. Master is in danger!”
Lerry’s little bird brain was consumed with panic. The document had been written simply and clearly, making its message all the more horrifying.
One particular line echoed ominously in his mind:
> “We hope to unite our house with that of the esteemed Trearn family through a noble marriage alliance.”
Romen, the eldest of the Trearn family, was already married.
That could only mean Lowell was the one being referred to.
This was how the Trearn family expressed their long-standing resentment toward Lowell.
It wasn’t just jealousy of his talents—it was a deep-seated hatred. A disgust hidden beneath layers of contempt. They only tolerated him because he was an adopted child of the household.
And now, they were planning to chain him down by selling off his life in a marriage deal?
These kinds of arranged noble marriages were common, yes. But the Trearn family clearly had no intention of paving Lowell’s life with roses.
This was a trap.
“MASTEEEER! IT’S AN EMERGENCY!!!”
A loud bell tolled in the distance as Lerry tore through the sky on his way back to the workshop.
Today was unusually quiet.
Temia stifled a yawn as she swept the workshop, leaning on the broom and pausing at the table, deep in thought.
Compared to other days, today was so slow it felt boring. Almost worryingly so.
She was used to rushing nonstop toward her goals, so this idleness made her feel a bit guilty.
Other than a bulk order earlier that morning—which she had already packed and set aside before the pickup time—there was absolutely nothing to do.
She had already inventoried the products and checked the field crops. She had even brewed potions so precisely that there weren’t enough empty bottles left to make more.
Eventually, unable to stand the boredom, she went looking for Lowell to ask if there was anything else to do.
He looked surprised at first but answered with a smirk.
> “You’re learning fast. Just the other day you were burning perfectly fine soap, and now you’re volunteering for more work? I’m touched. You’re finally acting like a real assistant.”
> “If you’re going to say nonsense like that, I’m leaving.”
> “That was a compliment… But honestly, it’s a shame. The way you’re asking makes me feel like I should invent some work just to give you something. But right now, there’s really nothing. Unless… you just want to stay near me?”
> “W-What?! Don’t be ridiculous!”
> “If not, maybe go clean the first floor some more? If you’re that bored.”
And that’s exactly what she ended up doing.
She spent hours wiping down every potion bottle on the shelves with a dry cloth as if they might have collected dust overnight.
And still, it was only midday.
The reservation list was empty.
Even Lowell had holed up in the second-floor lab, saying he needed to meet a deadline.
It wasn’t even that dirty to begin with—she routinely wiped the shelves, and Lowell frequently took care of any hard-to-reach spots himself.
Thinking she might not get this kind of chance again, Temia tossed the broom aside and sat down at the table.
Lowell had said himself there was nothing to do, so this was an officially sanctioned break!
There were no customers and not a single soul loitering near the workshop. Surely, nothing would happen today. Surely.
“Maybe it’s the weather… I’m getting sleepy.”
The warm sunlight and silence filled the room with a drowsy calm.
Resting her arm like a pillow on the table, Temia blinked slowly. The fatigue that had slowly built up made the hard surface feel like a luxurious mattress.
She was just about to drift into a deep sleep when—
“…Excuse me?”
Knock knock. A cautious voice and a soft knock at the door jolted her awake.
Startled, her sleepiness vanished in an instant.
Had she really been about to fall asleep at the table? If she had, she might’ve woken up with marks on her face—perfect ammunition for that wicked magician to tease her with forever.
Temia sighed in relief and quickly straightened her wrinkled clothes.
Since the door hadn’t opened, it probably wasn’t a customer. Maybe someone looking for Lowell?
“Yes! Just a moment—I’m coming!”
She quickly ran to the door and flung it open.
“Hello, this is the Green Sandwich Magic Worksh—”
But when she saw the familiar face on the other side, her voice trailed off in surprise.
