-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Big Hands and Hidden Curses
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Nibelria tried the shuttlecock-kicking technique Rubens had shown her several times, but she failed every single one.
But in the end, she always burst into giggles like it was the most fun thing ever.
They'd played so hard that sweat now drenched the children's faces before they knew it.
Her silver hair clung messily to Nibelria's damp skin.
"Teach me again next time!"
"Sure."
It was time to head home.
Before leaving, Nibelria greeted Kalarop, who had come out to see them off.
"Uncle, thank you for inviting me today."
"Thank you for inviting us."
Arep echoed her politely.
"Kids really shoot up when you don't see them for a bit."
Kalarop watched the two children greeting him so maturely, a pleased smile on his face.
Arep's changes stood out the most to him.
He looked much healthier than when they'd first brought him from the orphanage, and the dark cloud that had hung over him was mostly gone.
Kalarop's gaze shifted to Arep's hands and feet.
"Arep."
He said with a smile.
"You've gotten pretty big."
"Me?"
"They say if your hands and feet are big, you'll grow tall and strong as an adult."
Arep quickly examined his own hand.
'B-big...?'
Honestly, he couldn't tell.
But growing tall and strong sounded great.
"No kidding? Now that you say it, your hands are huge!"
"Must be the bone structure. Bet you'll end up bigger than us."
"No way! Let's compete! Arep, from now on, we're rivals in hand and foot size!"
Even Al and Rubens chimed in, saying his hands and feet were big.
"Where, where?"
Nibelria grabbed Arep's hand.
He was used to holding hands by now, but her fingers fumbling over his made Arep oddly self-conscious.
Her small, plump palm slowly pressed against his bony, prominent one.
Their hands differed by about one knuckle.
"Wow, it's big!"
Nibelria's eyes went wide.
Arep felt pleased.
"Oh, Della."
"My, Magic Tower Lord."
Majia, the Magic Tower Lord.
Della Tura, the information broker.
The two, who had run into each other on the outskirts of the imperial capital, decided to go together.
Their destinations were the same, after all.
The construction site of the pharmaceutical company, a joint venture between the witches and the Dayamor family.
They planned to have a drinking party there with their comrades from forty years ago.
"What's that?"
Majia gruffly held out his hand.
Della smirked, knowing he was eyeing the bundle in her arms, and gladly handed it over.
"Booze. Since Lord Monatos is coming too, I brought two bottles of 41-year-old whiskey."
"What about mine?"
"Of course, I packed some fruit mead that you love, Magic Tower Lord."
The two walked side by side.
Glowing mushrooms lined the paths, guiding them to the meeting spot.
"Witchcraft, huh."
Majia paused to openly examine the mushrooms.
"Can't you do that, Magic Tower Lord?"
"We can't interfere with living things themselves. That's solely the witches' domain."
"If Nini heard that, she'd tease you: 'Magic Tower Lord can't do anything.'"
"That cheeky cat would absolutely say it."
Majia looked at Della, who had aged past him somehow.
"You're getting old too, kid. Looking rough."
"That's what you said, and then Nini spanked your butt, right?"
"Hey, don't collect that kind of intel. How'd you find out anyway?"
"Nini told me."
"Damn cat."
"You think Nini's cute too, Magic Tower Lord. Always pretending otherwise."
Della shot back firmly, calling out his contrary behavior.
Majia snorted.
"Being honest just makes it harder for me. Everyone leaves me behind."
Della had no retort to his sincere joke.
"Living young alone for 200 years isn't all it's cracked up to be. Feels like being trapped in time. Really sucks."
"......"
"Just let it slide, maid kid. It's the drunken ramblings of a young geezer."
"You haven't even had a drink."
"Preemptive sober truth, then."
The towering foundation of the building soon came into view.
Raised by the great witch's power, it looked solid enough to withstand any storm or hardship.
Bricks were already stacked up to the second floor, and construction materials like window glass piled high.
"Ah, there you are."
Ardores Dayamor pointed to the tent he'd come out of.
The tent bustled with early guests.
The drinking spread was already lavish: witches' herbal liquors and exquisite appetizers from the Dayamor family's exclusive chef.
"You sneaky bastards! Starting without me?"
"The late one's at fault."
Muniel Dayamor pointed to an empty seat.
The party grew rowdy again.
The young heroes who had stormed battlefields forty years ago were all old men now.
Their hair was snow-white, hands and faces etched with deep wrinkles.
And some comrades who hadn't aged with them had departed first.
But the survivors happily reminisced, toasting to past glories.
In their faces, glimpses of that dazzling, beautiful youth still shone through.
"That cat really pulled off something huge."
Majia said as he poured mead into an empty glass. He hadn't had much, but his face was already flushed.
"Who'd have thought she'd bring a witch back into the sunlight."
"Better butter up Nini while you can. Who knows? Our granddaughter might hook the Magic Tower up with the witches."
Ardores teased in his dignified tone.
"Hmph, I have my pride as Magic Tower Lord!"
Majia scoffed defiantly, though he was a bit tempted.
Witch power was one of the things mages coveted most to study.
Collaborating with them on influencing living things could propel the Magic Tower to new heights.
"By the way, Lady Muniel."
Della pulled something from her bosom.
"The information you requested."
"Information?"
Monatos frowned mid-sip of his 41-year whiskey.
"Looks like you commissioned something separately, but sharing it so openly..."
"That's why I'm sharing it with you all."
The rowdy party fell silent in an instant.
In the hush, Muniel Dayamor's soft voice rang clear.
Like an oracle shaking a peaceful daily life.
"This isn't just my business."
A few months ago.
Muniel had commissioned Della.
One was information on the orphanage where Arep had stayed.
The other was...
"...pink."
The great witch's mutter pierced everyone's ears.
"Pink, right?"
"You saw that color too?"
"Vividly."
On the day the Dayamor family visited.
The great witch had spotted something alien circling that warm, happy family.
Like a crack in glass, a sharp, dangerous aura loomed, as if to choke their breath.
"You can see it too."
The oddity clung to the bodies of everyone gathered here.
Especially thick on Della.
"A curse lineage?"
Majia, sober now, scrutinized Della closely.
But nothing unusual showed.
"Something only holy power detects? Holy knight, what about your eyes?"
"Can't see it."
Ardores shook his head.
"So that's why you gathered us. To warn us?"
Muniel smiled at Monatos's question.
"Today, I'll bestow my blessing on you all. Receive it periodically. And..."
At her following words, blank expressions floated over the faces of those gathered.
Rima read the information broker's response to her request several times over.
Each time, she tilted her head in confusion.
"Should I call this a relief...?"
An awkward sense of relief settled in.
The request she'd asked the broker about was information on the Degladis family's madness.
The broker had replied thus:
[There are rumors that during the Krepatna War, the previous Duke Degladis suffered a grave wound from a monster, and the madness stemmed from the aftermath.
No information indicates the madness manifests in the current Duke Degladis. However, he has been confirmed to visit the Dayamor family frequently.
It's hard to definitively say the Dayamors are uninvolved in the Degladis madness, but there's no clear evidence to assert zero connection either, as the current lack of manifestation...]
The words spun in circles, inconclusive.
But Rima plucked out exactly what she wanted from the vague letter.
'Something's up with the Dayamors.'
The madness that manifested from the previous duke's monster wound.
The Degladis family must have gone to great lengths to cover it up.
And one trace of that effort was the Dayamor family.
"......"
That silver hair.
White silver hair fluttering like cotton candy.
'Saintess means silver hair.'
Rima bit her lip.
She felt anxious.
She couldn't forget the silver-haired girl standing among the male leads—not her.
'No way, that silver hair too...'
"Good grief, miss."
The maid cleaning the entrance hall froze in surprise, mop in hand.
A lump had rolled right into the spot she'd been about to mop.
It was Nibelria.
"Even if the marble floor is cool, you can't just lie here like this."
"But it's so cool..."
Limp like a cat overcome by heat, Nibelria tapped the floor with her hand, like a cat swishing its tail.
"Lie down and see."
"I'm in the middle of mopping."
"It's super cool..."
"...That cool?"
"Yeah."
The maid lay down beside Nibelria.
