Chapter 103
Roa had been holed up in the Magic Tower’s research lab for some time. Unless summoned to examine Yi-Gyeol’s body or provide testimony about the recent incident, he didn’t step outside at all. Even now, he sat alone in the sterile stillness of the room, his eyes fixed on the blank sheets of paper before him.
“Master, is this also a trace of the soul?”
“Master, if we refine this, couldn’t we turn poison into medicine?”
“Master, no matter how I think about it, this seems completely absurd.”
“Master. Master...”
Eda’s voice echoed in his mind, insistent, bright, and terribly familiar. A deep sigh escaped Roa’s lips.
“Foolish one... how did it come to this?”
Eda had been more than just a student Roa had reluctantly taken in. She was the granddaughter of Roa’s own master, and despite his initial hesitation, Roa had poured himself into teaching the girl. And now, that very student had aided Second Prince Zair, and worse—there were signs that he had used Roa for reasons Roa still couldn’t grasp.
“What were you thinking…”
Not knowing Eda’s true intentions weighed heavily on him. If Eda had simply gotten into trouble and run away out of fear, it might not have hurt this much.
After the Emperor’s death, Sethian’s first command as Crown Prince had been to send his knights to search Eda’s research lab. They took away all kinds of papers, materials, and everything he had been researching. As a result, nothing remained in Eda’s lab except furniture bearing traces of the search.
But Eda had been careful. The only things remaining were mundane notes and surface-level magical theory. Anything of true value, anything dangerous or revealing, had vanished without a trace.
Roa, forehead pressed against the desk, shut his eyes tightly and sighed again.
“He had both talent and intellect... I truly believed he would become a great Tower Lord.”
The more he thought of it, the deeper the bitterness sank in. Eda hadn’t just inherited the talents of the first Tower Lord—she’d inherited her temperament too. Had she simply stayed put, within a few years she would have become a young Tower Lord revered by all mages. But she’d thrown it all away.
Which meant... she must’ve found something more important.
Roa’s mind flashed to an old booklet he’d once seen in Eda’s room.
It had been during one of those petty moments—Roa had barged into the girl’s lab without knocking as a childish sort of revenge, since Eda in particular was unusually good at slipping in without a sound. He’d caught Eda poring over a weathered, tattered little booklet. Eda had jumped so badly that she fell backward in an unsightly heap, and the palm-sized booklet in her hand bounced on the floor a few times before falling open at Roa’s feet.
At the time, Roa had been too busy laughing, but the sight of the usually composed Eda so thoroughly flustered had felt suspicious. She had hurriedly picked up the booklet and hidden it behind her back as if her heart had dropped at the thought Roa might see it.
Roa sat up abruptly.
*That magic circle.*
He remembered it now. The pages had contained a magic circle.
Three or four centuries ago, mages used magic circles to move the flow of mana and cast spells. But with magic becoming restricted and developing toward ease of use, almost no magic using circles remained except barrier-type spells meant to guard or control something.
Which made the book all the more suspicious.
Roa had read every book in the Magic Tower’s archive. He had never seen that one before. And Eda—Eda had reacted violently to the idea of Roa seeing it.
*Could that be a clue?*
If the reason Eda had reacted so violently was actually something else...
Just as Roa was piecing it together, the door to his lab slammed open.
Only one person besides Eda would dare to enter unannounced.
Roa rose to his feet at once and bowed. “Your Highness, Crown Prince. What brings you here?”
Sethian stepped inside, flanked by his knight, Renoc. The mage who had opened the door stayed outside, and the door closed with a sharp *thud*, sealing them in. The sound reverberated like a warning. But it was the look in Seth’s eyes that truly disturbed Roa—sharp, intense, and unrelenting.
“Tell me everything Yi-Gyeol said to you.”
“…I don’t know what you mean.”
Roa kept his voice calm, though he’d expected this confrontation.
Sethian stepped closer. His gaze was like a blade.
“Yi-Gyeol’s condition. Not just his physical state—his mental state, too. Tell me everything.”
“I reported after each examination. He is in perfect health.”
Sethian’s stare turned glacial. Roa didn’t waver.
“If he’s fine, then why does he cry like he’s dying?”
The fire in Seth’s eyes flickered, replaced by something conflicted.
“Why is he pretending in front of me?”
That... startled Roa more than anything else. Not that Yi-Gyeol had cried. But that Seth had noticed—and had come to ask Roa, rather than confront Yi-Gyeol himself.
That was not like him.
“Even if his body is fine, there must be something wrong mentally,” Seth said. “You said it yourself—mana flow changes with mental state. You should have noticed.”
A fair deduction. The body could deceive. Mana could not.
But if Roa told him the truth, it would mean breaking the vow he’d made to the late Emperor. His jaw clenched.
“I have not noticed anything unusual.”
His voice held no hesitation. It was clear he would give the same answer, no matter how many times Seth asked.
“Then let me rephrase the question.”
Seth narrowed his eyes.
“What did Yi-Gyeol hear from His Majesty the Emperor?”
Roa flinched. He couldn’t help it. The sudden words *His Majesty the Emperor* struck his chest with unease.
“Until the very end, he only looked at me,” Seth murmured, his voice low and bitter. “But now, only the shell looks at me.”
As if his heart were somewhere else.
Seth must’ve seen the truth in Roa’s silence. He pressed a single finger to the mage’s chest.
“Think carefully. It wouldn’t be hard to accuse the Tower Lord of having a traitor as his student. It’s an easy way to strip you of your position.”
The threat hung heavy between them, but Roa said nothing.
“I cannot reveal what was spoken between him and the late Emperor,” Roa finally said.
“I am the Emperor now.”
Roa gave a dry laugh.
“Strictly speaking, Your Highness, you are not. You’re still Crown Prince.”
The coronation was tomorrow—but technically, Sethian hadn’t ascended yet.
For a moment, Seth didn’t move. Then he seized a quill from Roa’s desk—and without warning, drove it toward his own hand.
“Your Highness!”
Roa lunged forward, stopping the blade of the pen just in time. His hands shook.
“Why are you doing this?”
Seth’s voice was quiet. But it carried a terrifying fury.
“Think carefully. Why do you think I sought the throne?”
Roa went pale.
* * *
Back at Emerald Castle, Seth ignored Renoc’s calls and strode toward his bedroom.
*The late Emperor ordered me to stay silent,* Roa had said, reluctantly.
*Yi-Gyeol’s condition... is not good.*
Seth’s face was an unreadable mask of ice.
He’s been secretly taking medicine to block vitality absorption.
*Why?*
Was the reduction in lifespan from the supply of vitality really such a big deal?
Seth didn’t understand. One’s own life should matter more than another person’s lifespan.
And yet... he could. Yi-Gyeol had always been delicate—fragile enough that this alone could shatter him.
Which was why Seth had never brought it up.
*Why did he do something so foolish?*
He resented the late Emperor for it. A man like him would’ve understood Yi-Gyeol’s heart instantly. So why had he told him everything? And why had he bound Roa with secrecy?
There was no use thinking further.
He would confront Yi-Gyeol. Ask him directly. Push him, reason with him, force the truth out of him.
That decision shattered the moment he reached the castle.
Something felt wrong.
An instinctive dread prickled at his skin. In the distance, he saw a collapsed guard.
Seth’s body froze. His hand shot out to stop Renoc before he could approach.
Instead, Seth pulled a glass vial from his coat. A stimulant—prepared for emergencies, in case Yi-Gyeol ever fell deeply asleep during an out-of-body state or failed to return in time.
He uncorked it, checked the faint scent, then passed it to Renoc.
He approached the fallen guard himself.
Beside the guard were scattered traces like tiny droplets of water.
His pulse pounded, sickening and fast.
As he moved deeper into the castle, the pattern repeated: more people lay asleep, like the guards.
The trail led him to his bedroom.
Thump. Thump.
His heartbeat echoed, loud and dissonant.
He paused at the door, hesitating—not wanting to startle Yi-Gyeol, if he was still inside.
Then he opened it.
Sunlight poured into the room. But the air was frozen—sharp and lifeless, like the dead of winter.
“…Yi-Gyeol.”
Seth’s quiet whisper broke across the empty space like shattered glass
“Master, is this also a trace of the soul?”
“Master, if we refine this, couldn’t we turn poison into medicine?”
“Master, no matter how I think about it, this seems completely absurd.”
“Master. Master...”
Eda’s voice echoed in his mind, insistent, bright, and terribly familiar. A deep sigh escaped Roa’s lips.
“Foolish one... how did it come to this?”
Eda had been more than just a student Roa had reluctantly taken in. She was the granddaughter of Roa’s own master, and despite his initial hesitation, Roa had poured himself into teaching the girl. And now, that very student had aided Second Prince Zair, and worse—there were signs that he had used Roa for reasons Roa still couldn’t grasp.
“What were you thinking…”
Not knowing Eda’s true intentions weighed heavily on him. If Eda had simply gotten into trouble and run away out of fear, it might not have hurt this much.
After the Emperor’s death, Sethian’s first command as Crown Prince had been to send his knights to search Eda’s research lab. They took away all kinds of papers, materials, and everything he had been researching. As a result, nothing remained in Eda’s lab except furniture bearing traces of the search.
But Eda had been careful. The only things remaining were mundane notes and surface-level magical theory. Anything of true value, anything dangerous or revealing, had vanished without a trace.
Roa, forehead pressed against the desk, shut his eyes tightly and sighed again.
“He had both talent and intellect... I truly believed he would become a great Tower Lord.”
The more he thought of it, the deeper the bitterness sank in. Eda hadn’t just inherited the talents of the first Tower Lord—she’d inherited her temperament too. Had she simply stayed put, within a few years she would have become a young Tower Lord revered by all mages. But she’d thrown it all away.
Which meant... she must’ve found something more important.
Roa’s mind flashed to an old booklet he’d once seen in Eda’s room.
It had been during one of those petty moments—Roa had barged into the girl’s lab without knocking as a childish sort of revenge, since Eda in particular was unusually good at slipping in without a sound. He’d caught Eda poring over a weathered, tattered little booklet. Eda had jumped so badly that she fell backward in an unsightly heap, and the palm-sized booklet in her hand bounced on the floor a few times before falling open at Roa’s feet.
At the time, Roa had been too busy laughing, but the sight of the usually composed Eda so thoroughly flustered had felt suspicious. She had hurriedly picked up the booklet and hidden it behind her back as if her heart had dropped at the thought Roa might see it.
Roa sat up abruptly.
*That magic circle.*
He remembered it now. The pages had contained a magic circle.
Three or four centuries ago, mages used magic circles to move the flow of mana and cast spells. But with magic becoming restricted and developing toward ease of use, almost no magic using circles remained except barrier-type spells meant to guard or control something.
Which made the book all the more suspicious.
Roa had read every book in the Magic Tower’s archive. He had never seen that one before. And Eda—Eda had reacted violently to the idea of Roa seeing it.
*Could that be a clue?*
If the reason Eda had reacted so violently was actually something else...
Just as Roa was piecing it together, the door to his lab slammed open.
Only one person besides Eda would dare to enter unannounced.
Roa rose to his feet at once and bowed. “Your Highness, Crown Prince. What brings you here?”
Sethian stepped inside, flanked by his knight, Renoc. The mage who had opened the door stayed outside, and the door closed with a sharp *thud*, sealing them in. The sound reverberated like a warning. But it was the look in Seth’s eyes that truly disturbed Roa—sharp, intense, and unrelenting.
“Tell me everything Yi-Gyeol said to you.”
“…I don’t know what you mean.”
Roa kept his voice calm, though he’d expected this confrontation.
Sethian stepped closer. His gaze was like a blade.
“Yi-Gyeol’s condition. Not just his physical state—his mental state, too. Tell me everything.”
“I reported after each examination. He is in perfect health.”
Sethian’s stare turned glacial. Roa didn’t waver.
“If he’s fine, then why does he cry like he’s dying?”
The fire in Seth’s eyes flickered, replaced by something conflicted.
“Why is he pretending in front of me?”
That... startled Roa more than anything else. Not that Yi-Gyeol had cried. But that Seth had noticed—and had come to ask Roa, rather than confront Yi-Gyeol himself.
That was not like him.
“Even if his body is fine, there must be something wrong mentally,” Seth said. “You said it yourself—mana flow changes with mental state. You should have noticed.”
A fair deduction. The body could deceive. Mana could not.
But if Roa told him the truth, it would mean breaking the vow he’d made to the late Emperor. His jaw clenched.
“I have not noticed anything unusual.”
His voice held no hesitation. It was clear he would give the same answer, no matter how many times Seth asked.
“Then let me rephrase the question.”
Seth narrowed his eyes.
“What did Yi-Gyeol hear from His Majesty the Emperor?”
Roa flinched. He couldn’t help it. The sudden words *His Majesty the Emperor* struck his chest with unease.
“Until the very end, he only looked at me,” Seth murmured, his voice low and bitter. “But now, only the shell looks at me.”
As if his heart were somewhere else.
Seth must’ve seen the truth in Roa’s silence. He pressed a single finger to the mage’s chest.
“Think carefully. It wouldn’t be hard to accuse the Tower Lord of having a traitor as his student. It’s an easy way to strip you of your position.”
The threat hung heavy between them, but Roa said nothing.
“I cannot reveal what was spoken between him and the late Emperor,” Roa finally said.
“I am the Emperor now.”
Roa gave a dry laugh.
“Strictly speaking, Your Highness, you are not. You’re still Crown Prince.”
The coronation was tomorrow—but technically, Sethian hadn’t ascended yet.
For a moment, Seth didn’t move. Then he seized a quill from Roa’s desk—and without warning, drove it toward his own hand.
“Your Highness!”
Roa lunged forward, stopping the blade of the pen just in time. His hands shook.
“Why are you doing this?”
Seth’s voice was quiet. But it carried a terrifying fury.
“Think carefully. Why do you think I sought the throne?”
Roa went pale.
* * *
Back at Emerald Castle, Seth ignored Renoc’s calls and strode toward his bedroom.
*The late Emperor ordered me to stay silent,* Roa had said, reluctantly.
*Yi-Gyeol’s condition... is not good.*
Seth’s face was an unreadable mask of ice.
He’s been secretly taking medicine to block vitality absorption.
*Why?*
Was the reduction in lifespan from the supply of vitality really such a big deal?
Seth didn’t understand. One’s own life should matter more than another person’s lifespan.
And yet... he could. Yi-Gyeol had always been delicate—fragile enough that this alone could shatter him.
Which was why Seth had never brought it up.
*Why did he do something so foolish?*
He resented the late Emperor for it. A man like him would’ve understood Yi-Gyeol’s heart instantly. So why had he told him everything? And why had he bound Roa with secrecy?
There was no use thinking further.
He would confront Yi-Gyeol. Ask him directly. Push him, reason with him, force the truth out of him.
That decision shattered the moment he reached the castle.
Something felt wrong.
An instinctive dread prickled at his skin. In the distance, he saw a collapsed guard.
Seth’s body froze. His hand shot out to stop Renoc before he could approach.
Instead, Seth pulled a glass vial from his coat. A stimulant—prepared for emergencies, in case Yi-Gyeol ever fell deeply asleep during an out-of-body state or failed to return in time.
He uncorked it, checked the faint scent, then passed it to Renoc.
He approached the fallen guard himself.
Beside the guard were scattered traces like tiny droplets of water.
His pulse pounded, sickening and fast.
As he moved deeper into the castle, the pattern repeated: more people lay asleep, like the guards.
The trail led him to his bedroom.
Thump. Thump.
His heartbeat echoed, loud and dissonant.
He paused at the door, hesitating—not wanting to startle Yi-Gyeol, if he was still inside.
Then he opened it.
Sunlight poured into the room. But the air was frozen—sharp and lifeless, like the dead of winter.
“…Yi-Gyeol.”
Seth’s quiet whisper broke across the empty space like shattered glass
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