My Nerdy Neighbor Is the Master of the Magic Tower
Chapter 37
“Um, it’s nothing much, but I brought something for you. If it’s alright, would you accept it?”
“What on earth is…”
“In order, they are: a potion to boost physical strength, one to help with a deep sleep, and one to help with post-traumatic stress. And this one is…”
“W-wait a moment. What is all this?”
“They are Potions I made myself. I’m sure you already have plenty of Holy Water, but I thought these might be of some help.”
Bowing his head awkwardly, he poured out the rest of the Potions.
“This is far too much.”
Even a single ordinary Potion would be worth an enormous amount, but these were Potions personally crafted by the Magic Tower Master himself. And in such a vast quantity, no less.
Furthermore, was she not currently in a state of doubting him?
When she tried to refuse out of a sense of burden and guilt, Lien spoke up hesitantly.
“Every time I worried about Cecilia-nim, I couldn’t just sit still, so I ended up making them one by one… I-if you don’t need them, it’s fine to just throw them away.”
Cecilia bit her lower lip instead of answering.
The means of expressing a person’s heart are not limited to words.
Actions, gestures, the look in one’s eyes.
Since she hadn't interrogated him, he didn't plead his innocence or lament the injustice. And yet, through the steps that drew close, the hands that reached out only to curl back into fists, and his sorrowful gaze, he was speaking his innocence.
‘No matter how much I think about it, that can’t be acting.’
Even as she admitted that, why was it that she couldn’t smile back at him like before? Why couldn’t she hold his hand without hesitation?
Reason and emotion drew their blades and fought as if to kill each other. Amidst that turmoil, Cecilia silently stared at the glass bottles nearly overflowing on the table, and at the hem of his robe, wrinkled from how he had gripped it.
Only after a long silence did she meet the violet eyes shaded beneath his hood.
‘Lien, did you try to kill me?’
If she were to spit out that simple sentence right now, what kind of expression would he make? What kind of answer would he give?
However, the words that escaped her parted lips were…
“Thank you.”
It was a single, hollow sentence.
\* \* \*
Although she didn't use a single one of the colorful Potions lined up on her bookshelf, she gradually recovered and soon regained her perfect condition.
If there was one thing that did not return to normal, it was the altered attitudes of those around her. Perhaps because of the newspapers containing ‘that’ content, everyone—including the servants and Knox—was careful with their words and actions in front of Cecilia.
Cecilia, who had already been living under excessive protection, was now being treated like a snowflake that might melt away at a single breath.
Even when she tried to act energetic, she was viewed as a tragic lady swallowing her pain, so Cecilia gave up trying to convince them. In the first place, the situation was far too grim for her to go around smiling and saying she was fine.
It was in this uncomfortable atmosphere that a luncheon was held.
Cecilia, arriving last, took her seat to the left of the Marquis.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
“No, you must be hungry. Let’s eat.”
“…Yes.”
For some reason, their faces as they sat before the appetizers looked terribly haggard.
She had heard that while she was recuperating at the mansion, Knox had taken charge of the investigation at the Temple. The Marquis, too, had been preoccupied with cleaning up the aftermath of the ritual she had ruined.
Watching her family toil over her affairs made her feel strangely uneasy.
‘Should I just tell them everything?’
Should she reveal her diary, the previous accidents, and even her suspicions to seek their help?
Cecilia, who had been contemplating seriously, soon fell silent.
‘No.’
She still hadn't identified the mastermind or the culprit. Furthermore, judging by how the real Cecilia had relied only on Charles—that is, Lesty—and not her family, confiding in them didn't seem like a very good idea.
While she was organizing her thoughts, Knox’s investigative report continued.
“So, what happened with the traces of magic you mentioned?”
“I investigated from various angles along with Archbishop Kiar, but the magic was so sophisticated that it was impossible to track its type or origin.”
‘The Archbishop, he’s alive.’
Since she had ruined the ritual so spectacularly, she thought he might have gone to meet God as he so desired. It was news she couldn't decide was fortunate or regrettable.
While she was having such trivial thoughts, the Marquis’s mood seemed to have plummeted through the floor and into the basement. The spoon he held creaked as it bent.
“Then, surely you’ve caught the culprit who damaged the boat?”
“That, too… since the boat had already sunk to the bottom of the lake… We plan to salvage it, but it seems it will be difficult to secure evidence that it was intentionally damaged or to find the culprit who did it.”
Clang!
The silver cutlery was slammed down onto the table.
“Why is there no evidence? The very fact that someone used magic to cause an accident is evidence that it was the work of the Delanche!”
At the patriarch’s fury, the maids serving the main course flinched and stopped in their tracks.
The anger of a father who had nearly lost his precious daughter twice was perfectly understandable.
However, his claim, even if it were the truth, was likely to remain a mere opinion.
‘Because no matter how much the Grand Temple steps in, it will be difficult to protest to the Imperial Family without evidence.’
A delicious-looking grilled salmon was placed in front of Cecilia, who had reached a conclusion as if it were someone else’s business.
Crushing the fish meat with her fork, Cecilia subtly shifted the subject.
“Um, Father. Since the investigation into the accident seems to be in full swing and my body has recovered, wouldn't it be good for me to visit the Grand Temple once?”
She knew that public opinion toward her wasn't very good right now. Since she had essentially brought shame to the Grand Temple, shouldn't she at least apologize in person?
Besides, she thought she might find even a small clue if she, the party involved, stepped forward.
It was a suggestion she made with those thoughts in mind, but…
“I am visiting the Temple on your behalf, so if there is anything you need, just tell me.”
“It’s not that, but since I’ve caused trouble, I should apologize to His Holiness the Pope and the other priests, and help with the investigation…”
“You haven't fully recovered yet. We will take care of that side of things, so just focus on getting well.”
When not only Knox but even the Marquis gently dissuaded her, Cecilia quietly fell silent. It was because she read the discomfort in their awkward voices.
Realization came swiftly.
‘Ah, negative views of Cecilia must have emerged even within the Grand Temple.’
Since the high-ranking priests had testified to sensing traces of magic, they might not voice their opinions openly, but some were bound to harbor doubts. After all, the location of the accident was the problem.
For a Saintess to almost drown in a lake that any priest with even a speck of divine power could never fall into was a grave matter that could lead to her very qualifications being questioned.
Cecilia set down her knife, which didn't have a single mark of having cut food, with a click.
‘What should I do now?’
‘I’ don't necessarily have to be the Saintess, but that isn't the case for the ‘Cecilia’ who lived as one.
Looking at the diary, it seemed she had felt skeptical about her life as a Saintess, but that didn't mean it was okay to let everything she had built up her whole life crumble at once.
So, even to restore Cecilia’s reputation, she needed to be approved as the ‘official Saintess.’
Above all, wasn't there something she needed to check using the title of ‘Saintess’?
‘The Record of God might contain the dreams Cecilia had, the things she experienced, and perhaps even a way for me to return, so I must check it.’
Thus, for Cecilia and herself, she had no choice but to go to the Capital.
As if that were the destined path, the Marquis conveniently handed her a letter.
It was a luxurious letter in a pitch-black envelope, stamped with gold wax and a lion seal.
“Check this.”
“Is this… a letter for me?”
“Yes. It arrived from the Imperial Family right after the Relief Festival.”
If the sender was the Emperor, she could guess the contents without even looking.
“It must be about the approval.”
“It’s an invitation. It seems they are finally going to designate a successor, and they want the candidate for Saintess to attend.”
Whether that pretext was true or not, the hidden meaning was clear.
The treasure of the Weberdin and the Temple—Cecilia—was being told to come to the Capital in person.
Cecilia, having skimmed through the conventional invitation, replied calmly.
“I was planning to go to the Capital for my approval once the Relief Festival was over anyway, so this actually works out well.”
However, the Marquis’s opinion seemed to be different.
“No. I’ve thought about it, and you suffered such an accident even in the Grand Temple, which should be the safest place. So, it would be better to decline this invitation and postpone the trip to the Capital until next year.”
“…Postpone it?”
“Yes. Approval is not an urgent matter. It won't be too late to go after the culprit has been identified.”
The Marquis must be in a difficult position due to this incident as well. Did he not care about her reputation, which had hit rock bottom?
In fact, the public opinion criticizing the fake Saintess was limited to specific publishing houses influenced by the Imperial Family; most people were only at the stage of raising suspicions.
But as long as the label of an ‘unapproved’ Saintess remained, it was certain that tongues would continue to wag.
Therefore, no matter how she thought about it, it was only right to go to the Capital as soon as possible to receive approval.
Even if that place was not safe.
Wait.
‘Could it be that they were aiming for this?’
Could it be that they staged the accident to lure her to the Capital, so that Cecilia would have no choice but to receive ‘approval’?
