Chapter 2

Lucas

“Please don’t let anyone in. Not Father, not Mother, not Jonas. They must not come there. Send someone who doesn’t know me at all to attend to me. If they ask who I am, tell them I’m a sinner who committed a terrible crime.”
“Do you really… have to go that far?”
“I am as good as dead now. Please, stay well.”

Isaac stared blankly at the ceiling.

He tried to empty his mind and sink into meditation, but it didn’t go as he wished.
His final conversation with his father resurfaced.

It had been twenty years ago, yet it felt as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.
He remembered every word without missing a single syllable.

They hadn’t spoken much,
but both Isaac and his father understood each other’s hearts.

It was a moment where silence—
and the heavy air pressing down between them—
spoke more than words ever could.

Isaac didn’t want to grow weak.
He didn’t want to hurt those he loved anymore.
He didn’t want to cry.

That was why he resolved never to see them again.

From then on, he shut himself away, devoting himself entirely to the study of magic.
He focused only on escaping the fate imposed upon him.
That was his form of atonement—
and his way of forgetting the pain.

“Are you awake? It’s morning outside.”

“…Young master?”

At that moment, a sturdily built man with a gentle expression entered the room.

“What are you thinking about so deeply?”

It was Lucas—
the only person in this estate with whom Isaac could speak.

“Just… thinking about the past.”
“How far back?”
“About twenty years ago.”
“That’s quite a long time. Instead of dusty old memories, how about enjoying some fresh cheese?”

Lucas held up a basket of food.

“I also brought the books you mentioned. A scholar from the Blue Mage Tower has published a new work.”
“He’s long-lived. It’s been over twenty years since he diagnosed my condition. Is everything outside alright? Everyone healthy?”
“Yes, of course. His Excellency, the madam, and the second young master are all well. As for more detailed news… by His Excellency’s orders—”
“My father told you not to inform me of outside affairs. So I wouldn’t worry unnecessarily.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“I see. I just asked, just in case.”
“Thank you for understanding.”

Lucas scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“…Haa.”

Isaac let out a sigh.

Even without hearing news directly from Lucas, he could vaguely guess what was happening outside.

Recent magical texts were increasingly focused on offensive and lethal magic.
Many of the papers Isaac had written underground—published under Jonas’s name—were being cited.
Some had even become foundational principles for major offensive spells and magical weapons.

Clearly, the signs of war were growing stronger—
or perhaps war had already begun.

What frustrated him was not knowing who was fighting whom,
and to what extent his family, the Goethe house, was involved.

He had questioned Lucas several times,
but the answer was always the same.

“Please don’t worry too much. If the Goethe family were truly caught up in war, we wouldn’t be able to take care of you like this.”

Lucas was right.

“Isn’t there something far more important to you than the continent’s situation, young master? You should focus on that.”
“…You’re right.”

Isaac nodded.

Solving his condition came first.
It was the path he himself had chosen.

His father—Count Goethe—had made the correct decision.

Isaac had chosen.
And once he had chosen, he had to focus.

Everything else was unnecessary information.

Even after twenty years, his unusual constitution—his mana explosions—remained unresolved.
He had no room to look elsewhere.

He knew it too.

It was already far too late to turn things back.

Even if he overcame his condition, nothing would truly change.

And yet—
Isaac did not give up.

Until the end of his life, he would never give up.
He did not concern himself with what was possible or impossible.

If he fell, he would rise again.

That was all.

That was Isaac—
the blood of the Goethe family.

While Isaac flipped through the books, Lucas began cleaning the room.

He emptied the chamber pot, cleared out the laundry basket, and replaced them with neatly folded fresh clothes and towels.
After doing the same work for over ten years, his movements were swift.

“It’s about time you got up.”
“You’re already done?”
“Yes. You trained your stamina yesterday. Today will be sword practice.”
“I’m going to be covered in bruises.”

Isaac smirked.

If there was anything more intense than studying magic,
it was this time.

“Huff… huff…”

Not long after,
Isaac collapsed to the ground, leaning on a wooden sword, gasping for breath.

As expected,
his entire body was covered in bruises.

“…Haah. I ask this every time, but why don’t you become a knight? Why waste your talent staying by my side?”
“I’ve told you. My level is barely that of a soldier who can swing a sword a bit.”
“I’ve heard that boring answer enough times. Got anything new?”

Isaac had trained under Lucas for over ten years.

It wasn’t due to laziness, nor poor teaching.
On the contrary, Lucas was an excellent instructor.

Yet Isaac couldn’t even reach Lucas’s toes.

Even now, Lucas could parry every strike and counterattack without moving a single step.

After being beaten countless times with wooden swords over the years,
Isaac had developed an eye for skill.

From what he’d seen when knights from the frontier visited the estate,
Lucas was already an exceptional knight—
perhaps even beyond that.

“Then how about this answer? I, Lucas, swear in the name of a warrior to serve Isaac von Goethe.”

Lucas suddenly planted his wooden sword upright and knelt on one knee.

“What are you doing?”
“Can’t you tell? A pledge of loyalty. Congratulations—I’m a knight now.”
“Stop joking.”
“There’s no difference. The one I serve is you, young master. And I’ve already been serving you. Ever since you saved me, I’ve been your knight.”
“You’re not funny.”

Isaac clicked his tongue.

“I thought it was a pretty good joke.”
Lucas said it without a hint of a smile.

“A joke? That’s the funniest thing you’ve said.”

Isaac shook his head.

“I wasn’t joking when I said you saved me. If you hadn’t covered for me back then, I’d already be dead.”

About twenty-one or twenty-two years ago,
Lucas had tried to steal an elixir belonging to the family to save his fever-stricken wife.

He was caught by the head steward,
and unable to lie, Lucas stood frozen.

At the time, Isaac—who had not yet been confined underground—stepped in and claimed that he had ordered Lucas to discard the elixir.

Thanks to that, Lucas was cleared of suspicion,
and Isaac gained a reputation for protecting his servant.

Years later, after serving at a frontier fortress,
Lucas heard that Isaac’s attendant had left his post.

He persistently sent letters to the steward,
explaining why he should serve Isaac and how he could be of help.

Each letter was densely written.

The following year,
Lucas finally got his wish—
despite Isaac’s request for someone who did not know him.

“I told you, the elixir was useless to me anyway. Tasted awful too. I just didn’t want to drink it, so I passed it off.”
“And didn’t you get whipped until you fainted because of that?”
“Did that happen? It was so long ago, I don’t remember.”
“Even so, you never said a word about me. You only insisted that you threw it away because you didn’t want to drink it.”
“I was already in pain. Answering questions was a hassle.”

Isaac shrugged.

“You really are a good person, young master.”

Lucas said it seriously.

“…That sounds like a fresh kind of joke.”

Isaac turned his gaze away from Lucas.

It wasn’t something he wanted to hear.
Those who cared about him always ended up as victims.

“You know it’s not a joke—cough—”

“Lucas!”

Suddenly, Lucas coughed up blood.

It was one of the symptoms of mana poisoning.
He had stayed by Isaac’s side for far too long.

Even without explosions, Isaac’s vessel was always cracked, constantly leaking mana into the surroundings.
The Goethe family were mages by blood—
their innate mana density was exceptionally high.

Because of that, Isaac’s mana was like poison to those with weak resistance.
And Lucas, who stayed by Isaac’s side every single day,
had been exposed to that unstable mana for far too long, far too often.

“That’s what you get for talking nonsense. Get out—now!”

Isaac thrust a towel at him and supported him out of the room.

“Heh… Young master, you really don’t have a single noble-like trait.”

“…Rest for a while.”
“I refuse. If I’m not here, who will take care of you?”
“Someone prettier than you will. Rest until you recover. At least a month. Don’t come near me until then. Understood?”
“I can’t do that. Young master, you don’t have any friends.”
“Want me to throw you out for insult?”
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t come back. If you show up without fixing that mana poisoning, you’re fired. I don’t want to see you in my already bad dreams.”
“That’s a rather fresh kind of threat.”

Lucas gave a weak smile.

“Enough nonsense—just go. At this rate, you’ll really die.”

Isaac set Lucas down outside the door and shut it firmly.

“Don’t worry. Who do you think I am? You’ve caused dozens of explosions here, and I haven’t lost a single hair. You won’t find anyone as capable as me while I’m gone!”

Lucas’s voice came from beyond the door.

“You only have one life. You might’ve avoided it dozens of times, but it only takes once to lose everything. It’s fine if you don’t come back. If it’s a hassle, pass the job to someone else and focus on your child. Don’t make me worry.”

“Your nagging is worse than my wife’s, young master.”

“If anything, go become a proper knight. Anna would prefer that too… Now get lost. I’m going to meditate—don’t disturb me.”
“Yes, young master. These past days… have been pleasant.”

Isaac heard those words—
but pretended he hadn’t.

If he tried to think about their meaning,
he felt like his resolve would weaken.

Still, he listened until Lucas’s footsteps completely faded away.
Just in case the mana poisoning triggered a seizure
and he couldn’t make it out of the underground.

“I shouldn’t have grown attached…”

After Lucas’s presence disappeared entirely,
Isaac muttered again and let out a hollow laugh.

He had said something similar twenty years ago.
If this was the result, then he hadn’t changed at all.

Even as he blamed himself for that,
he quietly prayed for Lucas’s unborn child.

At the very least,
may they never live a life like his.
May they grow up loved, like Lucas did.

—

Another year passed.

“Huff… huff… huff…”

Today as well, Isaac awoke from a nightmare.

Cold sweat clung to his chilled forehead.

The dream was always the same.

Hans, the wet nurse, and the two maids who had died in mana explosions—
he was preparing dinner with them.

Outside, a blizzard raged in the dead of winter.
But inside the house, it was warm and lively.

Hans hummed a tune while feeding dry firewood into the fireplace.
The maids joined in his song as they prepared food.
The wet nurse laid out a tablecloth, arranging glasses, utensils, forks, spoons, and knives.

Isaac and the others chatted, sharing old stories.

It felt warm.
Comforting.

His heart loosened.

But something felt wrong.

A creeping sense of unease writhed beneath the gentle atmosphere.

Bang, bang, bang.

Someone knocked harshly on the wooden door.

A man stood outside, wrapped tightly in a fur cloak.
Snow had piled up on his head and shoulders, as if he had walked a long distance through it.

“I’m a bit late. Dinner hasn’t started yet, right?”

The man removed his hood.

It was Lucas.

“Oh my, it must be freezing. Come in quickly.”

The wet nurse welcomed him warmly.

“No—don’t come in!”

Isaac screamed in desperation.

But Lucas had already stepped inside.

“It’s been a while, young master.”

Lucas smiled brightly.

Isaac’s face twisted in despair.

And the dream ended there.

For the past year,
it had always been the same dream.

Isaac wiped the cold sweat from his face and stared blankly at the mold on the wall.

It had been a year since Lucas failed to return.

At some point,
the head steward Waller had personally taken over his duties.

Isaac had asked about Lucas several times,
but the steward always gave the same answer:

Lucas had quit, and his whereabouts were unknown.

—

Another month passed.

Then, an unexpected visitor came to the hidden underground chamber.

It was Count Goethe.

“…It’s been a while, Father.”
“…You look… much worse.”

After exchanging a few words,
father and son stood in silence.

Neither found this reunion pleasant.

It was merely a meeting that reminded them
of the wounds they had left on each other.

Nothing had been resolved.
Only time had passed in vain.

After a long silence, the count spoke.

“Lucas… is dead.”

The still air in the room began to sizzle,
as if something were boiling.

Isaac’s vessel—
was cracking once again.