A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 217: Outing (3)

In the Imperial Palace’s Hall of Learning, Sophien examined the scattered documents spread across the desk. Every one of them was part of the Deculein File, provided by the Intelligence Agency.

“The Empire’s Intelligence Agency is absolutely remarkable…” Ahan muttered in admiration.

“It’s basic intelligence work—monitoring and investigating the Empire’s nobles. To them, Deculein is just as big a piece on the board as Zeit,” Sophien replied, seeming uninterested.

“Oh, I see. Then I assume his records have been under investigation for some time?”

“Indeed.”

“Your Majesty, I hear the professor is arriving with a gift today. Has word of this reached you?”

“I’ve heard…” Sophien muttered, holding her pipe between her lips as she lit the tobacco. After taking a few slow puffs and exhaling wisps of smoke, she coughed and cleared her throat with a small grunt.

“… Ahem.”

It was, in its own way, an attempt to understand her father.

“I cannot begin to understand why the late Emperor found pleasure in this.”

The late Emperor, Sophien’s father, was regarded by his officials as a benevolent ruler who upheld theocracy and harmony. Yet his pastimes—fishing, smoking, and hunting—held no appeal for her. Perhaps centuries of regression had worn away such indulgences, or perhaps she had never inherited his taste for them.

“With good company, the experience would be far more enjoyable, Your Majesty,” Ahan replied.

“Are you suggesting I should keep someone filling the air with smoke in my presence?” Sophien replied with a scoff.

“Oh… That was not my meaning, Your Majesty. But perhaps hunting or fishing—”

“That is enough. One may know a hundred paths of water, yet the ways of people remain ever uncertain—even if that person is my own father,” Sophien replied, setting down her pipe and opening the Deculein file.

… Once recognized as a prodigy from childhood, his growth gradually slowed with time, bringing him closer to the risk of mediocrity—until he began to demonstrate exceptional theoretical insight.

The document contained the Intelligence Agency’s full investigation into Deculein’s history. The key terms were prodigy, the limits of talent, entering the Mage Tower, and exceptional theoretical insight.

Appointed as a professor on the merit of his theories. However, numerous allegations suggest that Deculein’s academic papers were not his own, but ideas appropriated from others. Multiple reports were filed by insiders within the Mage Tower, yet all were ultimately dismissed.

Professor appointment, academic misconduct, insider reports.

Secretly engaged but later bereaved, with suspicions of involvement from the Letter of Fortune, he has since made an annual visit to the grave on the day of remembrance of her passing.

Sophien’s eyes remained for a moment on the passage about bereavement and the day of remembrance. It was something that felt out of place with Deculein—yet undeniably shaped the man he had become.

Re-engaged to the youngest daughter of Freyden. However, perhaps due to his past bereavement, he exhibits a tendency toward possessiveness over his fiancée.

Just as Sophien was about to turn the next page…

Knock, knock—

At the sound of a knock signaling the start of the instruction, Ahan rose to open the door, while Sophien tucked the file away into a drawer.

“You have arrived, Professor,” Ahan said.

Beyond the threshold stood Deculein. It had been a while since they last met, yet as always, his expression remained calm and composed. Strangely enough, the sight of him was almost welcome.

“Sit,” Sophien said.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied, stepping forward and taking his seat.

Deculein’s attire and manners were as impeccable as ever, unchanged from the norm.

“I heard you went to Rohakan’s vineyard,” Sophien stated, speaking directly.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied, placing a blank sheet of paper on the desk.

“Did you presume that I would not hold you accountable for doing so?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Very well. When you killed Rohakan, what did you speak of with him?”

Deculein gave no response. Only the clatter of pens and a mana stone being set on the desk broke the silence.

“It seems your former fiancée’s day of remembrance is approaching,” Sophien said, annoyance creeping into her voice at his silence.

At that, Deculein raised his eyes to meet Sophien’s, and she did not look away.

“Your Majesty.”

In an instant, the air turned frigid—a quiet, unfamiliar weight from a side of him never before seen.

“That matter is unrelated to the topic of our lesson,” Deculein said.

Even he has a weakness that cannot be touched, Sophien thought.

“How arrogant… Then, what of Rohakan?” Sophien said, swallowing the laughter that was almost slipping from her lips.

“That, too, is an irrelevant topic to the matter at hand.”

“Haha,” Sophien murmured, a smile escaped her lips.

Deculein, always so composed, bristled with an uncharacteristic sharpness today. Yet rather than seeming arrogance, he was more like a hedgehog—prickly, yet almost endearing.

“I’ll allow it since this side of you is new. But you can’t keep it hidden forever, can you?” Sophien asked, resting her chin on her hand as she studied Deculein, searching his face for the slightest hint of emotion.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied, nodding. “By tradition, Your Majesty’s instruction lasts only a year. I have no intention of breaking that custom. However, due to various incidents—and Your Majesty’s lethargy—many sessions have been left overdue.”

“It is not lethargy but the weight of duty.”

“If Your Majesty faithfully completes the remaining instructions and attends to all that has been delayed, then…”

Deculein paused for a moment before placing a long, unidentified rod on the desk. Veiled in black cloth, its true form remained unknown.

“I will answer every question Your Majesty wishes to ask.”

Sophien narrowed her eyes, glancing between Deculein and the rod before letting out a scoff and, with a slight nod, replying, “Very well. I accept. Now, what is this?”

“It is an instrument for today’s instruction.”

“For today’s instruction?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Deculein said as he pulled away the black cloth.

Whoosh—

And beneath the black cloth, the revealed object was…

“A fishing rod?” Sophien muttered, a slight furrow forming between her brows.

***

We were fishing at a private lake, nearly the size of a river, specially prepared by Crebaim, the late Emperor. Seated on a small chair, we stared blankly at the water’s surface, watching the fishing line ripple in the gentle flow.

“… This is instruction?” Sophien asked, disbelief coloring her tone as about fifteen minutes passed.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Fishing and magic share certain similarities—both require a clear state of mind and the patience to wait without rushing,” I replied.

Sophien remained silent.

“Your Majesty’s runic language has stagnated. But this is not a matter of talent or skill.”

I had taught Sophien everything I knew about the runic language. At the very least, the knowledge itself had been thoroughly passed on. The foundation—the hardware—was perfectly assembled, and now, it was time to implement the software.

“Therefore, I will guide Your Majesty in the essence of a clear state of mind—the grace of tranquility.”

Clunk—

Without a word, Sophien set down the fishing rod, brushed off her clothes, and rose to her feet, ready to leave.

“Have we ever cast our lines together before?” I asked.

At that moment, Sophien’s steps paused, and she slowly turned back toward me.

“… What do you mean by that?” Sophien asked, her eyes widening as she looked down at me, sensing a deeper meaning in my words.

A breeze swept in, sending ripples across the still lake as the fishing rod trembled.

“I am merely asking, Your Majesty, nothing more.”

“For a mere question, your phrasing is rather unusual.”

I remained silent.

“No, that is not a question one asks without reason. You…”

Sophien’s words trailed off there, left unfinished.

“Your Majesty, in Rohakan’s vineyard, I saw fragments of a memory—one that does not belong to me. And within it, I was with you,” I said, looking out over the lake.

Sophien remained silent.

“I seek to reclaim that memory.”

The vineyard of Rohakan had revealed a glimpse of another worldline. But if I could not recall it myself, it held no meaning. This instruction was meant for Sophien—but it was just as much for me.

“And for that, I will need Your Majesty’s assistance.”

Sophien remained silent, the air so still that even the sound of her breathing had disappeared.

I raised my eyes to Sophien, her tightly pressed lips trembling, and in her crimson eyes, there was my reflection. It was a rare moment of unease—no, it was a side of Sophien I had never seen before.

“I will reclaim that memory—no matter what,” I concluded.

Sophien lowered her eyes, her expression stripped of all sovereignty.

“… So, all that remains is to wait for the fish to take the bait?” Sophien muttered, sinking back into her chair.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Let us set the quota at thirty-three.”

Sophien gripped the fishing rod once more, and I watched it in silence.

What she held was the World Tree Staff of Murkan. Even though she possessed the keenest magical perception of anyone else on this continent, Sophien had yet to recognize its true nature—for a reason. The moment it left Rohakan’s hands, the staff had bound itself.

“Your Majesty, that fishing rod is my humble gift to you,” I said.

Right now, the Staff of Murkan was nothing more than an ordinary rod. So, using Ductility, I reshaped it into a fishing rod. This was the second purpose of this instruction—to delicately establish an unconscious bond between Sophien and the staff, guiding her to naturally become its third master.

“… It seems you’ve placed some sort of trick on this fishing rod—”

At that moment, the fishing rod gave a sudden tug—a fish had taken the bait.

“You!”

Sophien quickly yanked the fishing rod, but the lake’s fish were clever. Using the force against her, it snapped the line and bait in a single motion. The sudden movement sent Sophien’s chair tilting backward.

Creeeeak—

I caught her, chair and all, before she could topple over completely.

“… Oh.”

I reached out, wrapping my arm around both her shoulder and the tilting chair in one motion. Fortunately, my arms were long enough.

Sophien stared at me in silence, her crimson eyes unexpectedly soft. It was the first time I had ever met the Empress’s eyes from this close.

“Are you alright, Your Majesty?” I asked.

Soon, Sophien’s eyes belatedly began to narrow slightly and asked, “… A mage who forsakes magic to use his own hands?”

“How could I dare use magic on Your Majesty?”

“Tch. Let go,” Sophien said, pushing me aside as she straightened herself, then gripping the fishing rod once more with her eyes locked on the water. “Damned fish. I’ve figured out how to catch you. My hands remember the feel of it now. This won’t happen a second time.”

Sophien was someone who never stumbled over the same stone twice—one experience was all she needed to master the whole.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

I nodded but noticed something unusual. Sophien’s hand, wrapped around the fishing rod, was trembling ever so slightly, and her thumb and forefinger fidgeted with the rod, betraying a hint of unease.

“What are you staring at?”

Of course, those emotions quickly vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Sophien shot me a brief glare before leaning back into her chair with ease. Just then, a gentle breeze swept through, loosening the strands of her crimson hair, letting them flow like the fading light of dusk.

“Nothing, Your Majesty. Let us return our focus to the instruction,” I said.

***

After the afternoon’s instruction, Sophien lay in her chamber, staring silently at the ceiling as she replayed the lesson in her mind. Fishing as instruction—Deculein’s reasoning had seemed absurd, and she had nearly walked away. But then, he had dangled the memory of a time before regression like bait, vowing to reclaim what had been lost.

And…

“… Were his eyes always that blue?” Sophien muttered.

Deculein’s blue eyes, brilliant like polished crystal yet tinged with quiet sorrow, had met hers from just a breath away. Even now, long after he had gone, that moment remained vivid in Sophien’s mind.

“Hmm,” Sophien murmured, placing a hand over her heart. Its beat remained unchanged, its rhythm as slow as ever—like that of someone standing at death’s door.

“Sophien, you will come to love Deculein.”

Suddenly, Rohakan’s prophetic words surfaced in her mind—the future he had spoken of with certainty.

“… How strange.”

Had Rohakan not spoken those words, such thoughts would never have crossed her mind, nor would she have questioned these emotions. Yet, because he did, Sophien now found herself pondering the depths of her own heart.

“He…”

The more Sophien questioned whether she could ever love Deculein, the more the thought tightened around her, as if fate itself was weaving a future where she inevitably would.

“Could it be that…”

Rohakan, that Black Beast, was after this all along? Sophien thought.

“Your Majesty.”

At the sound of Ahan’s voice, Sophien turned her head in silence, her eyes resting upon her.

“The summoned knights are arriving one after another,” Ahan added.

Those were the knights personally chosen by Sophien as candidates for the Empire’s guardian knight. Of course, they had not been informed of this from the start—they believed they had been invited to a formal banquet.

“How would you like to proceed, Your Majesty?”

Among them was Yulie—the woman Deculein held dearest above all else.

“Let them rest and recover from their journey. I will see them one by one starting tomorrow,” Sophien said, her lips slightly twisting.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ahan replied, bowing without turning her back, then stepping away and leaving the chamber.

Sophien looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought, her mind—once unshaken by politics or matters of governance, concerns she had never troubled herself with—now consumed by an entirely different kind of dilemma, unfamiliar and inescapable, weighing upon her mind…

***

… Meanwhile, beneath the starlit sky of the capital, the University of the Empire’s Roteo Hall was alive, and the evening’s admissions briefing was well underway, covering various fields of study—the Department of Business Administration, the Department of Medicine, the Mage Tower, and more.

“Wow! I’d love to sit in on the admissions briefings for the Business and Medical departments too, I mean, really~” Maho said, her eyes sparkling as she took in her surroundings.

With curiosity like that, it’s only a matter of time before she gets herself into danger again, Charlotte thought, releasing a quiet sigh.

“It’ll be fine~ We’re her escorts, after all!”

At that moment, Ria and Leo spoke up, offering reassurance to Charlotte.

“… Right.”

Charlotte had hired these two young adventurers, along with Dozmu, as escorts.

“The Red Garnet Adventure Team should be reliable enough,” Charlotte muttered.

They were younger than expected, but as members of the Red Garnet Adventure Team, their skills were certain.

“So, you said you guys came down from the Northern Region?” Charlotte asked.

“Yeah, we just got back from the Land of Destruction,” Ria answered.

“… The Land of Destruction? What were you guys doing in such a dangerous place?”

“Umm… We went for work? Because a lot of people there were looking for adventurers too.”

“That makes sense. Rumors are spreading that the Empire will soon launch an expedition to the Land of Destruction,” Charlotte said, pausing in thought before nodding.

“Char~ Come on over~ The Mage Tower admissions briefing is about to start~” Maho called.

“Yes, I’m coming,” Charlotte replied, and Leo and Ria followed closely behind.

Mage Tower Admissions Briefing—Head Professor Deculein

Across the grand stage of the briefing hall, one name was prominently displayed—Head Professor Deculein.

“Char~ It’s Professor Deculein~ The professor, the professor~”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Come and take a seat~”

Leo and Ria sat stiff with tension, while Maho took her seat with a bright smile.

— Testing, testing, one, two. The admissions briefing will begin shortly. Please take your seats.

As the host’s voice settled in and the lights dimmed, a hush fell over the hall, like a concert hall before the first note. In that expectant silence, Deculein made his entrance.

Thud— Thud—

With measured steps, Deculein approached, sweeping his eyes over the hall filled with aspiring mages as he spoke.

— Greetings. I am Deculein of the Yukline family, Head Professor of the Mage Tower at the Imperial University and Chief Examiner of the entrance exams.

Maho watched Deculein’s presentation with her eyes gleaming.

— Each of you gathered here has no doubt claimed the highest honors at your respective academies.

Leo and Ria remained alert, their senses attentive as they scanned their surroundings, prepared for any hidden assassins or unexpected threats.

— However, academic excellence alone is not enough to embody the ideal mage that the Mage Tower seeks. In this entrance exam, I will assess not only your theoretical knowledge and written proficiency, but also your practical command of magic and your ability to adapt under pressure. Therefore…

At that moment, Deculein’s voice faltered for a brief second as his eyes wandered somewhere in the crowd, and a slight furrow formed between his brows.

“… Oh.”

Ria flinched under his stare, her shoulders tensing. Deculein let out a quiet click of his tongue before continuing his speech.

— Therefore, you should expect a far more demanding and dynamic examination ahead.

At that moment…

Boom—!

A sudden loud noise echoed through the hall, cutting off Deculein’s words. The entire audience blinked in confusion, their eyes darting around to find the source.

“… Huh? What was that? What’s going on?”

While most sat in confused, Ria, with her keen senses, felt it clearly, sprang to her feet, and dashed toward the exit of the hall.

Bang—!

Ria grabbed the door handle and threw it open, stepping forward—only to find nothing beneath her feet. The space beneath her gave way, and she quickly pulled back before she could tumble into the void.

“Woah!”

When we entered, it was the briefing hall of Roteo Hall… but now, beyond the door, there’s nothing. No, just empty air? The sky? Darkness? Or maybe… some kind of barrier? Ria thought.

“W-What… What is this?!”

Somehow, the briefing hall had been detached from the university, left floating in the abyss, swallowed by darkness.

“… This… What?”

“What is this?”

“W-Why… why is the outside gone?”

The examinees who witnessed the impossible scrambled to their feet, crowding near the door, murmuring anxiously as they peered into the darkness that had swallowed the world beyond.

— Silence.

With a single word, Deculein silenced them, his voice cutting through the tense murmurs of the examinees.

— It is a sudden magical terror attack. For the time being, remain seated and compose yourselves for now.

At Deculein’s announcement of a magical terror attack, a wave of panic swept through the hall, and his call for composure was momentarily lost in the growing chaos.