Chapter 48

Contact Point (Tangent)

“That’s a hasty judgment. I’ll stop here.”

The blood of Goethe flows in him.
He is Goethe’s eldest legitimate son.

Isaac denied the soldiers’ flattering words.

“Would you care to join us for a meal? I’d like to know how you train and how you learned your swordsmanship.”
“No. I’m tired.”

Despite the captain of the guard’s invitation, Isaac tossed the wooden sword aside carelessly and left the training ground.

It was the first time he had received such goodwill from the estate’s soldiers, and though it was welcome, he had no desire whatsoever to be with them.

“Did we say something wrong?”

The soldiers were bewildered, but Isaac showed no emotion and offered no explanation.
He simply wiped the sweat from his forehead and wandered aimlessly around the estate.

‘I’ve grown complacent.’

The excitement that had filled him since returning to the estate sank all at once.

The moderately cool air of early summer.
The peaceful scenery of the estate.

A comfortable and pleasant life.
Jonas beginning to show an affinity with spirits.

The estate soldiers displaying competitive spirit and a desire to improve.

It had only been for a moment, but everything had seemed optimistic.

But after just a few sparring matches, the way they looked at him—as Goethe’s rightful heir—cooled his childlike excitement in an instant.

The soldiers had done nothing wrong.
Though their attitude toward Isaac had changed suddenly, it wasn’t anything new.

They were men who had spent half their lives on the battlefield.

Just as one can infer a mage’s personality and life from the magic they create, the soldiers could do the same.

The fault lay with Isaac himself, for giving them reason to expect something.

His refined swordsmanship.
A body absurdly superior for his age.

Magical abilities that defied common sense.

All of it was the product of a miracle.
Only a fraction of it had been achieved by Isaac himself.

If not for the incomprehensible miracle that sent him back to the past, he would have met a tragic death.

And those miraculous gains clearly had a purpose.

At the very least, they were not meant to earn the goodwill of servants or estate guards.

Isaac desired power.

He desired miracles.
He wanted to protect his family.
He wanted his loved ones and the household to be happy.

And yet—

After overcoming his abnormal constitution known as Mana Rampage,
after laying down the fear and anxiety that he might harm those precious to him with a mana explosion—

He ran freely.
Swung his wooden sword.
Sweated.
Researched magic.

He saved the nurse’s son, saved the maids, stopped the bishop’s scheme, and saved Vinfelt.

And in enjoying all that freedom—

He had forgotten.

He had forgotten what he truly desired.

Sparring with soldiers and basking in their admiring gazes, Isaac had been enjoying himself.

In that enjoyment, he had forgotten what consequences his actions might bring.

He had forgotten the deaths of Lucas, his father, his mother, and Jonas.

***

In the Goethe family, the eldest son is declared an heir upon reaching adulthood at thirteen.

According to the original timeline, Isaac was never appointed heir.

Back then, his abnormal constitution had injured and killed servants.
No one acknowledged him as the successor.

But now—

There was a possibility that Isaac could gain popularity.

Since returning to the past, he had not caused a single mana explosion.
He showed exceptional talent in swordsmanship.

Popularity and infamy are like wildfire.
Once ignited, they burn uncontrollably.

If news of Vinfelt’s victory—yet to reach the estate—arrived, more people would look favorably upon Isaac.

And that would mean conflict between Goethe’s vassals and branch families.

The differing views on Isaac’s abnormal constitution and Jonas’s talent would divide factions and spark internal strife.

The moment Isaac—once never even considered a candidate—became an option, Walsil, who remembered history, would begin watching Goethe closely.

They would observe whether Isaac showed signs of becoming Siegfried von Goethe.

They would grow more wary of Goethe and likely become hostile.

Schemes would arise both inside and outside the family.

‘I was a fool.’

Even with the privilege of knowing part of the future, he had completely overlooked such an obvious possibility.

Isaac shook his head weakly.

He had to come to his senses.

If he desired, longed for, and chose something—then he needed to focus and cut away everything else.

Someday, if true peace came to the Goethe family, he might enjoy all of this.

But not today.

Not now.

Isaac repeated it to himself over and over.

***

After meditating and waiting for darkness to fall, Isaac quietly slipped out of the estate.

Now that he had the Hell Wolf, there was no need to go through the trouble of visiting the stables.

It wasn’t the most comfortable ride, but for Isaac, the Hell Wolf was an excellent means of transportation.

As he felt the cool wind against his face atop its back, the tightness in his chest eased slightly.

Connected through the Wolf King’s bond, the Hell Wolf followed Isaac’s will, avoiding main roads and running through rough terrain where no one would pass.

After dismissing the Hell Wolf near the bridge of Bern City, Isaac chose a spot without guards.

Bern had no walls, but it was surrounded by a moat connected to the river.

Because of that, the guards only needed to secure the bridge, making access control relatively easy.

The moat was wide—and deep.

But that wasn’t a problem for Isaac.

Crack—

As his foot touched the surface of the water, a thin layer of ice began to form.

‘It works.’

A faint smile appeared on Isaac’s lips.

It was another gift brought by the Wolf King’s rune stone.

Originally, mages rely on their hands to cast magic.

They are the most sensitive and finely controlled parts of the body.

Some mages without hands use their lips and tongue, but they can’t match the precision of fingers.

That’s why one of the harshest punishments for a mage is cutting off their hands.

But Isaac—

With his senses dramatically enhanced by the Wolf King’s rune stone—

Could now gather mana beneath his feet and cast freezing magic from there as well.

Of course, freezing the entire moat was impossible.
At best, he could create chunks of ice sturdy enough to support his weight.

Since it took time to form ice large enough to provide sufficient buoyancy, crossing the distance of about twenty steps took quite a while.

Even so, one thing was certain.

Isaac was walking on water.

A smile spread across his lips at that realization.
The small sense of satisfaction lightened his mood a little.

***

After entering Bern City, Isaac headed to a newly opened high-class inn near the commercial district.

“Welcome!”

It wasn’t a city where one could expect kindness easily, yet the innkeeper greeted him warmly without even knowing who he was.

Naturally, no one recognized Isaac with his hood pulled low.

Unlike the shabby inns on the outskirts of Bern, this place was mostly used by respectable foreign merchants.
Because of that, the risk of trouble was low—and the chances of anyone recognizing Isaac, the eldest son of the Goethe family, were even lower.

In truth, until the age of eleven, his life had been confined within the estate, so most of the territory’s residents didn’t even know his face.

“Will you be staying the night?”

A woman with light brown hair asked him.

Though she had fine wrinkles, her skin was lively and well cared for.
She wore a friendly smile—one rarely seen in the worn-down inns of the area.

Isaac immediately recognized her as Randolph’s wife.

“I’m here to meet someone.”
“Who might that be?”
“Carlson. The owner should know him.”
“Carlson stepped out for a bit. Would you like me to let him know you came? Or will you wait here?”
“I’ll wait. Bring me an ale.”
“…Are you sure? Our ale tastes great, but even strong drinkers get drunk quickly.”

Mrs. Randolph spoke with concern.

Though he wore a hood, up close he looked nothing more than a young noble who had snuck out of home.

“All the better.”

Isaac insisted, and in the end, she had no choice but to bring him a horn filled to the brim with ale.

“One more.”

After draining the first mug in one go, Isaac immediately ordered another.

Ever since using the Wolf King’s rune stone, he no longer got drunk anyway.

Still, there was a reason he drank.

He needed to smell like alcohol.

***

Isaac had decided what kind of image he would present for the sake of his family.

He would make it clear that he was far from being Goethe’s heir.

He would become someone noticeable—but not someone powerful families needed to fear.

That way, Jonas could safely rise as the successor, and the Goethe family wouldn’t attract unnecessary scrutiny from the royal court.

To achieve that, his behavior needed to look reckless.

Even visiting brothels and returning reeking of perfume might help.

For now—he would start with alcohol.

“How many mugs of ale can I get with this?”

Isaac placed a single silver coin on the counter.

“With that? You could probably replace half your body with ale.”

Mrs. Randolph’s words were exaggerated, mixed with a bit of teasing.

A silver coin was roughly equal to ten copper coins, depending on local prices.
Here, one mug of ale cost a single copper.

For seasoned drinkers, ten mugs in a day wasn’t unusual.

But Isaac looked every bit like a noble young master—someone who’d get drunk after just one or two.

“Then let’s do exactly that.”
“What if you can’t finish it?”
“Then the rest is yours.”
“How generous.”

Mrs. Randolph smiled playfully, teasing the young noble.

“Right. But I’d like some quiet until Carlson gets here.”
“…Very well.”

She looked slightly disappointed.

She had been curious—what circumstances had brought such a well-bred young master to an inn alone, without any escort?

Now, she wouldn’t get her answer.

Meanwhile, Isaac focused solely on emptying mug after mug.

It was a bit disappointing that he couldn’t get drunk, but he made do by enjoying the taste.

In places like Vinfelt, where drinking water was scarce, people often drank beer instead.
He had once wondered if drinking urine might taste something like that.

But compared to that, the ale here was entirely different.

Though less refreshing, it had a rich malt flavor, along with a subtle aroma—something like fruit, or perhaps flowers.

For someone with little experience in alcohol, it was the best drink Isaac had tasted in both his lives.

It seemed Mrs. Randolph hadn’t opened the inn merely for a livelihood.

Isaac was certain she had genuine expertise when it came to ale.

***

“Carlson, you’re back?”

Mrs. Randolph greeted him before Isaac, who was sitting with his back to the door.

“Yes.”

Carlson answered briefly.

He looked slightly fatigued, and there was a faint smell about him—like something from a damp ditch.

“You look like a mess.”
“Something came up. May I have an ale?”

Carlson reached into his pocket for a coin, but Mrs. Randolph waved her hand.

“It seems someone’s already covering your drinks today.”
“…Pardon?”

Carlson brushed back his messy hair and followed her gesture with his eyes.

His gaze met Isaac’s.

But neither of them spoke.

Now that he thought about it, they hadn’t agreed on how to act in a situation like this.

Before leaving Vinfelt, Isaac had only given Carlson instructions and said he would visit after a few days.

“You two… don’t know each other?”

Mrs. Randolph asked, breaking the awkward silence.