WEERR 08

Chapter 8

“Pardon?”

“This child has talent. And passion.”

The Tower Master’s gaze turned toward Trisha.

“She’s probably curious, too. That’s why she recognized the Amab toxin at a glance and even neutralized it with her own mana, isn’t that so?”

“I—I suppose….”

“Of course, she needed the help of a mana essence since her magic is still weak.”

The Tower Master gave a sly grin. Trisha’s skin prickled.

What’s he plotting this time?

She swallowed dryly. That unsettling smile of his always meant one thing—he was scheming something.

“I’ll give Lady Binz the opportunity to intern at the Mage Tower.”

“W-What?”

“Isn’t that a wonderful offer? The Mage Tower internship is a position that anyone with even a spark of interest in magic dreams of having.”

“Wait, that’s not—”

Trisha fell silent mid-protest.

That old crook! What kind of scam is this?

An internship at the Mage Tower that everyone wanted? Nonsense.

When’s the last time anyone believed that? Everyone knows the rumors—low pay, endless overtime, and supervisors with terrible tempers.

It was a position people avoided if they could, not one they competed for. And now he was offering it as a “great opportunity” and a form of apology?

Seriously, why would a noble lady ever do that kind of menial work?

Even the title of “imperial civil servant” attached to Mage Tower employees had lost its prestige long ago.

“If Lady Binz accepts my offer, I’ll personally take her under my wing and teach her better than anyone else.”

It was an offer most would politely decline—unless they were truly passionate about the study of magic.

“Well, of course, the decision rests with Lady Binz. What do you say?”

“I’ll do it.”

But that was only true for most people. For Trisha, the offer was irresistible.

“Isha?”

Countess Lens Binz’s face showed clear surprise. She quickly sat beside Trisha and took her hand.

“You don’t have to push yourself into something so difficult, my dear. If you don’t wish to—”

“No, Mother. I want to do it.”

Trisha shook her head firmly, touched yet amused by her mother’s concern.

In truth, this was perfect for her.

I was planning to approach the Mage Tower anyway!

It was such a closed-off institution that she’d been planning to use her title, Trisha Binz, just to get in touch. But now, instead of reaching out herself, she was being invited inside as an intern?

Why would I ever turn that down?

And that Tower Master’s behavior—he had definitely noticed something about her.

Trisha’s lips curved upward in quiet confidence.

An intern’s work? Piece of cake.

They agreed to discuss the details at their next meeting. After that, Trisha was left alone in the infirmary.

The Tower Master had returned to the Tower, and her parents…

“Since we’re already here, we should at least make an appearance at the imperial ball.”
“It won’t take long, dear. Just rest a little until we return.”
“When we come back, we’ll head home together.”

…had left her with those gentle words before heading out.

Trisha stared blankly out the infirmary window.

In her previous life, she had never attended a ball—not once. To think she’d die, come back young again, and find herself in this situation…

Doing absolutely nothing feels strange.

She wasn’t used to idleness. In her former body—and even after coming back to life—there had never been a day when she wasn’t busy dealing with one thing or another.

This was the first real downtime she’d had in ages.

With a soft sigh, Trisha flopped down on the bed. She figured she might as well get some sleep before her parents returned.

…Still, who would dare to poison food at a royal ball?

The thought kept her awake.

She lay still with her eyes closed, lost in thought. Time slipped by—until she heard a click.

The door opened.

Mother? Father?

She cracked open her eyes.

Because of the curtain drawn around her bed, she couldn’t see who it was. Footsteps echoed softly—light, quick.

Not my parents. Just one person. The steps sound small… light…

A chill crawled up her spine.

It was the same suffocating dread she had once felt in front of an evil god—like something terrible was about to happen.

But that can’t be. The evil god is dead. I killed him myself.

She tried to steady her breathing.

Then the curtain rustled aside.

“I told you, you’d regret it.”

A familiar yet distant face came into view—the boy with the angelic features, the same one who had acted so cryptic when she first woke up.

“You—!”

So he was a noble. His outfit confirmed it.

Before Trisha could say anything else, the boy spoke first.

“How can you be so reckless? Purifying mixed mana and using it—do you still think you’re an Archmage?”

“What?”

“If your body’s changed and weakened, maybe act like it.”

Trisha’s eyes widened.

“What… what did you just say?”

Her voice trembled with disbelief.

The boy blinked, suddenly realizing he might have said too much. He hesitated, watching her warily, as if worried his words had hurt her.

“I said… you should be more careful.”

“Not that part. Before that!”

“…Do you still think you’re an Archmage?”

“Yes, that!”

How… how could he know that?

“You—you know who I am?”

Her voice shook. Her heart was pounding wildly.

No one had recognized her before. Not the comrades who’d fought beside her through life and death, not the parents who’d raised her, not even the superior she’d worked under for years.

Yet this boy—this stranger—

She forced herself to calm down. She had to ask him something—anything.

But he spoke first.

“Ah, damn. I wanted to talk longer, but my time’s up.”

He sounded genuinely regretful as he reached for her hand.

Something cold and metallic brushed against her palm.

When she opened her hand, she found a cufflink—clearly not a store-bought trinket, but something custom-made and expensive.

“Resh.”

“What?”

“Resh. That’s my name.”

His gaze was steady, unwavering, locked on hers.

“Don’t forget this time.”

This time?

Trisha’s mind flooded with questions—but she never got to ask them.

Because a voice called from outside the curtain.

“Isha, how are you feeling?”

It was Lens, back from the ballroom.

“Isha, are you awake?”

Trisha froze.

Thank goodness her mother didn’t pull the curtain aside immediately—if she had, she would have seen the boy standing there.

Wait. Maybe… maybe this is my chance.

If Resh knew who she really was, and she brought him to her parents, maybe he could tell them the truth. Maybe he could prove it.

But even as the thought formed, she shook her head.

That was ridiculous.

Dragging some unknown boy before her parents to declare, “He can prove I’m your real daughter, not an adopted one”?

They’d think she was insane—or worse, a con artist.

Even if her parents believed her, no one else would.

And if anyone suspects me of using dark magic during the process… I could be branded a black mage.

Besides, she wasn’t sure she could trust Resh yet.

As she hesitated, heart pounding, she turned to look for him again—

“…Huh?”

He was gone.

Just like the first time she’d met him, he had vanished without a trace.

“Isha? Is something wrong?”

Lens’s gentle hand drew the curtain aside.

“Ah.”

Their eyes met—mother and daughter.

“How are you feeling, dear?”

Lens’s expression softened, the worry melting into a kind smile.

“I—I’m fine. Sorry I didn’t answer. I just woke up and… must have been a little dazed.”

“I see. That’s all right. Let’s go home, then.”

Lens wrapped an arm around her shoulders tenderly.

Even as she leaned into that warmth, Trisha couldn’t take her eyes off the spot where Resh had stood.

He didn’t use a scroll. I didn’t feel any mana flow, didn’t hear a single incantation.

Then she remembered what Asha had said.

“He must’ve used a scroll—he vanished so quietly.”

At the time, she’d thought she just hadn’t heard it because of the street noise.

But here, in this quiet infirmary, from such a close distance—

He disappeared without a word, without a trace of magic?

Trisha’s gaze trembled.

In her hand, the cufflink caught the light and gleamed faintly.