Chapter 94

Acting Like a Scoundrel (1)

Isaac emptied his glass once more.
Silence lingered in the room.

The window rattled in the wind, and the hall on the first floor was still noisy.
That only made this place feel even quieter.

A mage’s melancholy sometimes comes in the most absurd moments.

“Melancholy… at a time like this.”

It wasn’t like when he fought Bishop Levonius, where he had consumed a vast amount of mana.
Nor had he reached any profound truth or revelation.

Isaac already knew, from the long years he had lived, how insignificant the human mind was in the face of an infinite world.

And yet, what dragged him into this state now was simple mental fatigue.

The distant noise.
The cheers and laughter of the rejoicing Weissmans.
Their booming chorus of the national anthem.
Voices that, despite being exiled from their homeland and living in a foreign frontier, seemed to forget all their worries in this moment.

“I thought I’d at least feel some sense of fulfillment.”

That sound. That scene.
They were exactly what Isaac had wanted to hear and see.

That was why he had come all the way to Bern City and personally had Venders distribute the citizenship certificates.
He wanted to see the Weissmans happy.

But the satisfaction was brief—
and in its place, an unexpected exhaustion clung to him.

When would a day like that come to Goethe?
When could they laugh freely, clinking glasses without worry?

At the current pace of the kingdom, such a tomorrow would never come to Goethe.

The Empire had its Emperor.
The Republic had its revolution fueled by magitech.
The Kingdom had civil war, betrayal—
and war.

There was always war.
There was always a battle to be fought.

Could his mind—already aged beyond a lifetime—endure all the years ahead?

Could he withstand another fifty years of storms, protecting those he cherished, and still remain sane?

And at the end of it all…
would the Goethe he saw be the one he truly wanted?

Isaac found himself overwhelmed by that uncertainty.
He could clearly feel that his soul had grown old.

“Young master.”

“…Ah.”

At Violet’s cautious voice, Isaac snapped out of his thoughts.
He had been staring blankly out the window, holding an empty glass.
It seemed he had remained like that for quite some time.

“Are you alright?”

Isaac’s gaze turned toward Violet.
For some reason, her expression was tense.

“…Mm.”

He gathered himself.

Only then did he remember what he had called her here for.

“Violet.”

“Yes.”

“Until you leave Goethe… teach Jonas spirit magic.”

“…What?”

Violet blinked.

She seemed to process his words before speaking.

“Wouldn’t it be better to find someone more qualified than me? At this point, the only thing I can teach young master Jonas… is how to harm people using spirits.”

“Then teach him that.”

“But he’s only nine years old.”

“He’ll grow. And he must.”

Isaac spoke with a bitter tone.

“Goethe will face countless battles ahead. It’s a fate that can’t be avoided for those born here. I want Jonas to have the strength to choose his own path. Help him with that.”

“…Is this a condition for staying within your ‘line’?”

Violet recalled Isaac’s words.

The Isaac who had planned and executed the massacre of the 113,
and the Isaac who had visited the Weissmans and Bill to mourn the dead—

They were the same person.

The only difference was whether one stood inside his line or outside it.

Violet wanted, if possible, to remain within that line.

Not just because of what Isaac had done for her.

“That boy does not belong to this world.”

The warning from the spirit that reacted to Isaac’s mana.

The spirit bound to Violet was a guardian spirit passed down through the Fleur family.
Its words could not be ignored.

“No. This is a request.”

Isaac replied.

“I’m not asking you to play the role of a full tutor. Just drop by the estate occasionally and guide Jonas in spirit magic.”

Violet stared at Isaac, a half-smoked cigarette between her lips.

The dense, hollow mana he had been emitting earlier had already disappeared, as if it had never been there.
But the lingering sensation of it still gripped her.

It felt like…
a bottomless abyss that would swallow anyone who stared too deeply.

Her spirit warned her—
the right answer was to stay as far away from Isaac as possible.

But where could she go?

The Empire and the Republic were enemies.
The Kingdom was a vassal of the Empire.
The Republic was controlled by radicals.

For now, there was no place for the Weissmans except Goethe.

And besides… Violet found herself concerned about Jonas.

The boy who resembled her older brother she had lost in childhood.
The child who treated her, a foreigner, with pure kindness and curiosity.

Though both were sons of Goethe, he was completely different from Isaac.

“I’ll do it.”

Violet finally answered.

“You can go. I need some rest.”

Isaac, truly exhausted, threw himself onto the woolen bed.

“May you have a peaceful night.”

Violet left the room.

Isaac lay there, eyes open, staring into the darkness.
In the heavy stillness, he contemplated what lay ahead.

The window rattled in the wind.

***

Marcel Reich clicked his tongue.

The second day’s academic conference and the third day’s tournament had both been disappointing.
After the overwhelming expectations set by the first day’s magic demonstration, the disappointment felt even greater.

The academic conference was filled with absurd claims in Reich’s eyes,
and even the magical chess was primitive compared to students of the Royal Academy.

The finalists of the magic dueling tournament were Beltran of the Büchner family and Carlos of the Ripe family.

The audience marveled at the level of combat magic displayed by such young boys.
But to Reich, it was unbearably dull.

Both Beltran and Carlos relied solely on casting speed and reflexes to win—
firing off fire magic rapidly without any regard for compatibility or countering their opponent’s spells.

“You seem quite disappointed.”

Just as Reich was about to return to his lodging out of boredom, a boy stopped him.

The boy wore a black silk tunic.
His face seemed familiar.

Gray hair. Blue eyes.
Sharp gaze and a clean jawline.
An irritable yet strangely weary expression.

“…Are you speaking to me?”

“Yes, Headmaster Reich.”

“Did I look disappointed?”

Reich asked bluntly.

It happened often.
There were always fools who, unable to stand out in the competition, approached him directly to draw attention to themselves.

“Seems that way.”

“Then tell me—why do you think I’m disappointed?”

“In real combat, magic requires consideration of many variables.”

“What kind of variables?”

“For example, let’s say a battle takes place in a forest. Using fire magic recklessly would be no different from suicide. The forest could burn and block your escape route, and using fire magic alone would reveal the mage’s position.”

“…Hmm.”

“Each element has its own strengths and weaknesses, and their applications differ. That’s why a combat mage is expected to handle at least two elements. Yet those two in the finals didn’t consider any of that at all.”

The boy’s thoughts were exactly the same as Reich’s.
But knowing theory and putting it into practice were two entirely different things.

“If you know so much, why aren’t you the one standing there?”

“I have circumstances that prevent me from participating in the tournament.”

“Of course. Everyone has their excuses. I have matters to attend to.”

Reich gave him a brief glance and turned to leave.
The conversation had been interesting, but ultimately a waste of time.

Just empty theory.

“At least hear my name before you go.”

The boy followed after him.

Persistent.

“I see no reason to.”

“My name is Isaac von Goethe.”

—Stop.

Reich’s steps halted.

“…Hah. So you’re Isaac. You’ve grown quite a bit since I last saw you.”

He stroked his beard, looking at Isaac with interest.

“I heard you were twelve. Is that correct? Judging by your appearance, you could pass for a grown man.”

“I grow quickly.”

“No wonder your face seemed familiar. You look exactly like Helmut when he was young.”

Reich chewed on the stem of his pipe as he spoke.

“You seem to have been close to my father.”

“Helmut was a student at the Royal Academy when he was young. I was one of the professors who took an interest in him. In the end, he was a student even I couldn’t handle. His talent was remarkable, but his stubbornness was something else.”

Reich’s tone grew lighter as he reminisced.

All of it was about Helmut von Goethe—
the current Count.

He spoke at length about how extraordinary, how unique, and how stubbornly righteous Helmut had been during his academy days.

“I find that part of my father a bit frustrating as well.”

“Oh? So you share that sentiment?”

“Very much so.”

“There was one time he beat four noble brats into a pulp just to protect a commoner student. I found it satisfying, but it was something that shouldn’t have been done. I had to go through quite a bit of trouble to prevent him from being expelled.”

“You must have had a hard time.”

Isaac let out a faint chuckle.

It was an interesting story.
The kind that could never be found in books—only told by someone who had witnessed it firsthand.

And it was about his father.

It seemed he hadn’t changed at all, then or now.

“To you, Headmaster… my father must have been a favorite student.”

“A favorite? Hah, Helmut was never my student. If I had to define our relationship, we were closer to friends.”

“I see.”

“More importantly… you’ve changed a great deal.”

The lively expression on Reich’s face faded, a crease forming between his brows.

Two years ago, he had visited the estate at the Count’s request—
to diagnose Isaac’s unusual constitution and seek a cure.

Back then, Isaac had been no different in size from Jonas.

A conversation like this would have been unimaginable.
He had been frail, wracked with pain, and terrified of his own illness.

For that child to change so much in just two years…

At a glance, he seemed like an entirely different person.
If not for the fierce flow of mana surging within him, Reich might have thought this boy was an impostor.

“A great deal has happened. Much has changed… and some things haven’t.”

Isaac spoke in a measured tone.

It was time that couldn’t be captured in a few words.
Naturally, Reich couldn’t possibly grasp the full meaning behind it.

“So it seems. I’ve heard enough rumors about your misconduct just by listening a little. Looking at you now, you seem perfectly fine—so why behave like such a scoundrel?”

Reich questioned him sharply.

Regardless of age, he was a friend of Helmut.

The well-being of Goethe was important to him as well.
Isaac was a good conversational partner when it came to reminiscing, but his existence also cast a shadow over Goethe.

Since he had engaged with him this far, Reich intended to at least offer some admonishment.

“Even if your condition is incurable, putting a maid forward as your representative in the competition—what were you thinking?”

“Because it’s fun.”

Isaac smiled mischievously.

“Enette is a mage under my patronage. This allows her to live a better life, and in return, I gain a mage who will devote herself entirely to me. It’s beneficial for both of us, isn’t it? Otherwise, who would ever be loyal to me?”

“…Hah.”

Reich let out a dry laugh.

The mocking smile on Isaac’s face—
paired with fatigue and irritation far too heavy for a twelve-year-old—
twisted what should have been youthful vitality.

And yet, beneath that expression, Isaac’s eyes resembled Helmut’s.

Eyes that calculated, contemplated, and looked far into the distance.
Eyes filled with sharp intelligence—clashing with the expression he wore.

The old scholar noticed that contradiction immediately.

“Drop the half-baked act of villainy.”

Reich said dismissively.

He had seen through Isaac’s facade in an instant.

He had observed thousands of students over a lifetime,
and dealt with dozens of figures in the royal court whose intentions he had to read.

Isaac’s poorly maintained act was easy to see through.

“So you didn’t come just to leave an impression on me.”

Isaac showed a hint of surprise.

In terms of years lived, Reich was younger by at least a decade.
But the time he had spent dealing with people was on an entirely different level.

“I had thought you were merely a reckless fool based on rumors. But I seem to have forgotten the saying—words have wings, but truth stands before one’s eyes.”

“I’m not sure what you mean. I was merely—”

“The conversation was interesting, but I think this is enough.”

Reich stood up.

If Isaac had truly been a thoughtless delinquent, it would have been easier.
He could have toyed with him or exchanged meaningless chatter.

But Isaac had approached him with a purpose.

The attempt itself was admirable—
surely something he had thought over carefully.

However, Reich had no time to indulge the Worry of a twelve-year-old.
Even his duties as a royal advisor were enough to give him headaches.

No matter how much Isaac had grown in the past two years,
a child was still a child.

“I’ll have more to talk about with Helmut now.”

That alone was enough for the old scholar.

Regardless of what was real or false, Isaac was playing the role of a scoundrel.
Just imagining how surprised the stubborn Count would be upon hearing this amused Reich.

“If you truly have something to say, bring it to Helmut.”

Reich smiled faintly and moved to leave the reception room—

“I understand you are researching long-distance communication devices.”

The words that came from Isaac’s mouth made the old scholar stop and turn.

It was a top-secret project, funded directly by the king.