……Emperor Sophien closes her eyes and remembers.
She recalls the scene of the place where the Black Beast Rohakan had taken her.
—Did you truly murder the Empress?
A conversation once held in a white vineyard.
The “timeline” Emperor Sophien sees by borrowing Rohakan’s power.
Deculein asks about the “murder of the Empress,” and Rohakan answers.
—If not me, then who else could it be?
A confession that it was his doing.
And yet Deculein, as he gazes at Rohakan, does not seem to believe it at all.
—……I see.
Rohakan also wears a faint smile.
Because of that, Sophien realizes. She clenches both fists.
She can tell without any words.
That the true culprit who murdered the Empress was, in the end, not Rohakan.
That in truth, even Sophien herself already thinks so.
—Deculein. You believe in Sophie, don’t you?
Suddenly, Rohakan asks Deculein.
Sophien looks at Deculein’s face.
—Of course.
There is no hesitation in his answer. Rohakan nods as if satisfied.
—Even if Sophie ends up killing you…… you won’t leave her, will you?
—Of course.
Without calculating even the slightest bit, without agonizing over it, only with certainty in himself.
Deculein says,
—My heart must belong only to Her Majesty.
—Why?
—It is simple. Because of a flaw in my personality.
A faint smile appears on his lips.
—The person who can exist above me. On this continent, that is only Her Majesty. She is the only person whom the man named Deculein—the most narrow-minded and steadfast believer in hierarchy, the philosopher of aristocratic society—can respect and look up to.
—…….
Rohakan’s expression slackens slightly, as if dumbfounded.
But Deculein shakes his head as though there is nothing to be done.
—I was designed that way from the very beginning.
—……If it is not Sophie, then no one can stand above your head?
—Yes. If it is not Her Majesty, not a single person can stand above me. I simply cannot bear the sight.
At that moment, laughter slips from Sophien’s lips.
Because it is so absurd, such an outrageously unreasonable reason.
—In any case, because I am so terribly tenacious, I also cannot stand by and watch Her Majesty be placed beneath anyone else.
Deculein is a man more unknowable than anyone, yet also a man whose standards are clearer than anyone’s.
—Therefore, I will act so that only Her Majesty may become great.
And yet, how truly regrettable.
Within that “greatness,” there is no Deculein.
—For my sake as well, Your Majesty must become such a person.
Thanks to that, Sophien feels she understands now.
Why Deculein is forcing his own death upon her.
“If I kill you.”
She murmurs as if smiling.
“Are you saying I will become great…….”
……Her voice spreads like a sigh.
At length, she returns once more to the present.
At the front gate of the Imperial Palace, she faces the vassal who dares to glare at the Emperor.
“Can you trust me?”
Deculein asks so insolently.
Yet Sophien finds him somehow amusing. The entirety of the existence called Deculein is unbearably lovable, and she is drawn to him so fiercely her body might tremble.
She wants to hold him in her arms and fall into the sea with him. She wants to roll through the desert with him. She wants to leap from the sky with him.
It would be fine to drown in the deep sea, fine to burn to death from heatstroke, fine to plummet from the heavens.
Because he is a man who could make even death ecstatic…….
“Do not force faith upon me.”
Sophien says.
“The only thing I believe in is myself.”
Deculein’s brow twitches.
“You shall first set out for the Deadlands and await me there. There, I shall doubt your loyalty.”
All the vassals at the gate are shocked.
For to tell him to go first to the Deadlands is no different from exile, and to say she will doubt him is no different from already naming it “treason.”
At that moment, Deculein asks in return.
“Can you bear it?”
The word bear.
A moment far too shocking to be called a dialogue between Emperor and vassal.
Yet to Sophien, his words sound like, “Can you truly kill me?”
Sophien twists the corner of her mouth faintly. She speaks as if chuckling in mockery.
“……Of course.”
* * *
……Two days later.
“Haah…….”
In the lounge of the Masal Legation, Luina is heaving sigh after sigh. Having just woken up on the bed, she has been sighing continuously for a while now.
Ihelm glances at her and asks,
“So, was there anything hidden in that formula?”
“I don’t know.”
“…….”
Ihelm shakes his head.
“At any rate. Whether that formula has some other meaning or not, we should disclose the results of analyzing the lighthouse itself.”
“…….”
Luina moves only her eyes to look at him.
“Disclose it where? Right now, Deculein must be chasing us with fire in his eyes.”
“Deculein will be driven out soon anyway. Haven’t you heard?”
“……?”
Ihelm rubs the back of his neck and says,
“His Majesty has finally made a move. He told Deculein to go first to the Deadlands and wait for him there.”
“……Ah.”
“So we don’t have much time. I mean there’s no time to analyze any hidden objective. The comet is going to fall soon.”
Ihelm points to the sky outside the window. In that instant, Luina’s eyes grow wide.
“You can see…… it?”
“That’s right. The comet is visible to the naked eye now.”
It is still very small and faint, but the comet can clearly be seen. Despite it being broad daylight, it glitters like a star.
Ihelm picks up the bundle of documents analyzing the lighthouse.
“We’ll disclose it to academia. If we reveal this madness of drawing in a comet to destroy the entire continent, plenty of people will turn to our side. Most mages probably still don’t even know why the lighthouse was built.”
“…….”
“If we do that, we can bring Deculein down. He’ll become a public enemy of the continent, worse than the Black Beast.”
Ihelm says.
Luina thinks over the content of those words.
She ponders for a moment.
Something about what Ihelm said—that Deculein would become a public enemy of the continent—feels both puzzling and vague.
“……Right. What about the Red Ghost?”
Luina asks something else first.
“The Red Ghost?”
“Yes. Elesol…….”
“She’s outside. Waiting for you. She said she’ll guard you until you disclose it.”
“…….”
Luina hesitates for a moment, but Ihelm presses her.
“What are you going to do? Will you disclose it to the continent, or not?”
The purpose of the lighthouse the Altar has constructed. The events that will arise because of it. And the mage who completed that formula.
Something that can define Deculein as the continent’s great evil…….
“Do it.”
A voice supports Luina’s decision. Luina turns that way.
It is Lia.
“His Majesty will want that as well.”
* * *
A dark night.
The 66th floor of the Imperial Magic Tower, Relin’s office.
“Chairman Deculein has to go to the Deadlands…….”
Right now, Deculein is preparing to depart for the Deadlands.
Sophien called it the “vanguard”; his purpose is to establish a camp and report the Altar’s movements in detail from there.
But in truth, it is proper to view it as exile.
Of course, he can hear about central affairs through the Altar’s network of connections spread like a spiderweb, but the difference between being there in person and not being there is tremendous.
“……So!”
But anyway, none of that has anything to do with Relin.
His attention is focused on Luina and Ihelm, the two who fled from the underground prison. For now he is somehow holding on, but if that fact is discovered, only death awaits him.
“Did you find them or not?!”
Relin bellows. In the office of the Imperial Magic Tower, gripping a tiny crystal orb in his hand, he looks every bit the petty little man.
—We have not found them.
The fools of the Altar cannot even find a mere two mages.
Relin presses down on his temples.
“Fuck…… find them quickly. Quickly. Chairman Deculein is on the 99th floor right now…….”
After giving that warning, he smooths down the hair standing on end. With trembling fingers, he pushes up his glasses.
“These vermin…… I told them not to lock them up from the start…….”
Just as he is blaming the Altar’s trackers and resenting Deculein as well.
—Professor Relin!
Someone outside calls for Relin. Relin flinches and straightens his body. He fixes his posture as if saluting.
Bang—
But the person who opens the door and enters is some undergraduate. Relin frowns at once.
“What are you?”
“I’m Assistant Repoon!”
“……Are you my assistant?”
“Yes? Ah, yes! It’s been six months!”
“Why are you here? So rudely.”
Relin calms his heart, which feels as if it might burst, and takes off his coat. The assistant hurriedly holds out some wizboard.
“Please look at this!”
“……What is this?”
“Someone anonymously exposed to the academic world the true purpose of the lighthouse the Altar is building!”
“…….”
The moment the assistant mentions the Altar, a chill runs down his spine, but these days there are not many mages who have not taken spirit fluid from the Altar in the first place.
Relin clears his throat. Ahem. He takes the wizboard.
“The true purpose of the lighthouse?”
“Yes. The lighthouse is not simply for the Altar to worship that pseudo-god of theirs!”
“……Pseudo? You speak rather harshly.”
“Yes?”
“Never mind. Shh, be quiet.”
Relin places a hand by his mouth and begins reading the wizboard. In truth, he too had been somewhat curious.
Whether the purpose of that enormous lighthouse was really only “worship” and “prayer.”
Honestly, Relin has no interest in the Altar’s private faith and cooperated with them only because of the spirit fluid and the scraps that came with it…….
“……!”
Suddenly, Relin’s eyes fly open.
The flow of the formula that Luina summarized is organized and analyzed well enough for even the capable magic professor Relin to understand.
And so, in an instant, Relin realizes.
“They’re drawing in…… a comet……?”
Suddenly, Relin turns his head and looks out the window.
Beside the great mass of the moon, there is a light.
A light source the size of a thumbnail, brilliant as if full of hope, yet now somehow feeling only ominous.
That is…….
“……Those lunatics!”
Relin runs in haste. He presses the elevator button.
His destination is the Magic Tower Chairman’s office, where Deculein is…….
* * *
The top floor of the Magic Tower.
I am preparing for my final journey. With the light of the stars and moon descending from the sky as my companions, I am choosing my luggage together with Yulie.
Which clothes will suit the end best?
“Professor, anything looks good on you…… but still, this outfit is best.”
As expected, Yulie chooses the suit that has been reinforced all over with “Midas’s Hand,” the sturdiest one, practically armor. I smile faintly and nod.
“Let’s do that. Though I wanted to wear something a little different at the end.”
“What kind of thing do you mean?”
“Something gaudy like those.”
A colorful suit. The lining is red, the outer fabric blue, and the tie checkered. Yulie looks at it and smiles faintly.
“Please do not lie.”
“Yes. It was a lie.”
Clothes that even Kim Woojin would never have worn. I smile faintly and take the vase.
It is the vase containing the forget-me-nots Lia gifted me.
Yulie nods contentedly.
“……Those flowers are growing well.”
“They are not flowers that live long originally. Perhaps because I put care into them, they refuse to die.”
Forget-me-nots do not have long lifespans. In the first place, they are flowers caught awkwardly between spring and summer.
“But…… why did Miss Lia give you these flowers?”
“…….”
I silently look at the flowers. I gaze at the blue buds of the forget-me-nots and smile faintly.
“Who knows. I will find out soon.”
“How do you know?”
Yulie asks back with an innocent face. I meet her eyes and say,
“Because I will ask her myself.”
“……Ah.”
Just as Yulie smiles softly.
Ding—!
Suddenly, the elevator arrives at the top floor. At that instant, Yulie puts on a helmet as if she were an ornamented suit of armor, and I place the vase in a preservation bag.
“……Chairman!”
As soon as the elevator doors open, a group of professors bursts in.
Not just one person.
Relin, Siare, Padel, and of course the professors who cooperated with the Altar and consumed its spirit fluid have come up to the chairman’s office without fear.
“Chairman! This is terrible!”
The professors make a commotion, forgetting all dignity, but in truth it is not only them.
If I listen closely, voices close to an uproar, the murmuring of countless students and professors, travel along the walls.
The ears of the Iron Man can sense it.
I smile faintly.
At last, the time has come.
“Please, please look at this!”
Relin is the first to hold out the wizboard as he speaks.
“Those bastards from the Altar deceived us!”
I take it.
These people still do not even know the Altar’s true purpose. Well, because they did not know, they must have cooperated so merrily with Quay, who intends to destroy the continent.
“The Altar, the true purpose of this lighthouse is to destroy the continent, the continent…….”
“……I know.”
“……Pardon?”
At that moment, the professors are briefly stunned.
And to them, to these fools standing with their mouths agape like stupid pigs, I speak calmly.
With a shrug of my shoulders, as if asking whether they are only realizing it now.
“Because it is my formula, which I personally created. Because it is the lighthouse I personally climbed and descended to reconstruct.”
For some reason, it is a confession that puts me in a good mood.