Episode 280
“Excuse me. Could you tell me where the Minister of Magic’s office is?”
“Go straight down this hallway, then take a right.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re with the Royal Palace Guard, aren’t you? Is this about tomorrow’s agenda? I’m the person in charge, so if it is, I can escort you back together.”
Barsabe shook her head, clutching a stack of reports to her chest. These were the unfinished matters from earlier at the conference. Though it was late at night, once dawn came, things would get hectic. Honestly, it wasn’t anything urgent, but Jerrat had ordered her to wrap it up quickly.
“No, these are reports from the conference.”
“I see. Well, good luck with your work.”
“Thank you! You too, tomorrow!”
Barsabe’s hearty farewell made the wizard smile as he passed by. In truth, he was exhausted and barely had the energy.
Following the wizard’s directions, Barsabe stopped in her tracks.
‘Wait, is the office even open right now? It’s my first time coming to another department this late. Usually, the night staff would receive visitors.’
At the far end of the corridor, a grand door stood, radiating an imposing presence. A faint light spilled through its crack. Suddenly, Barsabe realized why the wizard hadn’t corrected her to go to the night duty room.
The Minister of Magic apparently didn’t know what “leaving work” meant. The office was always open, without exception. How terrifying and astonishing.
Barsabe approached cautiously and knocked softly.
Knock knock.
“Come in.”
No questions asked? Crazy. Was the minister waiting for a report? Barsabe peeked inside and greeted him.
“Good evening, Minister. I’ve brought the conference reports.”
Ian didn’t even glance her way, continuing to scribble with his pen. She couldn’t tell what he was working on, but the desk was cluttered with old books rather than reports.
He gestured with his left hand for her to place the papers down.
‘Maps?’
There were maps of different scales, foreign history books, administrative archives, official diplomatic letters from previous generations… This didn’t seem like the kind of work a Minister of Magic would handle. Since he didn’t seem to be hiding anything, Barsabe set the reports down and asked.
“Sorry to bother you when you’re busy. Is this personal work?”
“Could be, I suppose.”
Looking closer, the maps were of Burgos and the Kingdom of Luswena. Feeling her gaze, Ian finally looked up.
“…My apologies.”
“You probably don’t expect curiosity from a knight.”
“Uh, well, um…”
Even after handing over the reports, he showed no sign of letting her leave. Ian set down his pen and raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to get to the point quickly.
“Captain Jerrat wants to resolve the issues from today.”
“Resolve? How?”
“I heard the biggest problem was guarding His Highness after Siaoshi was injured. So, I wanted to ask if I might serve as His Highness’s personal guard until Siaoshi recovers.”
“You?”
Ian repeated, sounding incredulous. Barsabe placed a hand over her chest, showing proper palace etiquette.
Clack!
“My health isn’t fully restored yet, but I’m capable of standing in for Siaoshi. I will dedicate myself entirely to His Highness’s safety.”
Ian tapped the desk with his fingertips, studying her. A long silence stretched between them. Just as Barsabe, growing anxious, was about to say more—
“Very well.”
“Eh? Really?”
“…Was that a joke?”
“Of course not! How could I joke about such a thing!”
“Due to the selection schedule, we’re short-handed. Since Captain Jerrat offered to handle it, I have no reason to oppose. But this is strictly about guarding His Highness. You should get His Highness’s permission first. It’s too late now, so ask him at his residence when the sun rises.”
“Understood. Thank you.”
“Barsabe.”
She paused, turning back as if still stunned by how easily she’d been granted permission. Ian smirked at her expression.
“You’re also responsible for assisting with Beric’s training.”
Though Siaoshi hadn’t been sparring, he had been doing everything else for Beric—fetching water and towels, running alongside him, helping with push-ups and basic conditioning to improve his records.
Barsabe muttered reluctantly, pursing her lips.
“Y-yes, understood…”
Click.
As the door closed, Ian closed his book and glanced over the reports she’d brought. Faster than expected, better than expected, and clearer than expected. He smiled as he flipped through the pages.
‘I knew Barsabe would come. Captain Jerrat must have thought she’d be easier to accept than a stranger. But Barsabe might be a bit clumsy for anything beyond guarding.’
Removing Siaoshi from Jin’s side and placing a Royal Palace Guard member there was clearly a form of control.
He’d told Siaoshi it wasn’t certain yet, but that needed correcting. Jerrat was serious about this.
“But she lacks a foundation.”
Being able to stand up to Ian meant being independent from palace politics. Standing alone, how could she have a solid base?
Honor, power, and wealth. Grouped together, these three hold meaning. The Royal Palace Guard has honor but lacks power, so it’s still insufficient.
Scratch, scratch.
The pen glided over paper. Ian suddenly recalled the day he woke up at the Bratz estate. Back then, he’d been organizing the future just like this, with an indecipherable note from the illegitimate Ian.
—Jin, the palace, Timothy’s naturalization, the Magic Department annex, the political situation of the three nations, the appointment ceremony, Melania and the Rutherford guild…
Like unraveling a tangled thread, Ian pinpointed each fragment and laid out his plan.
Branches kept extending. The points where cause and effect ripened and burst, and where new branches sprouted—all calculated in Ian’s palm.
Cut, cut, and cut again…
‘No, this way Burgos will—’
Swish.
‘No precedent. Too uncertain whether they’ll accept the proposal or not. I don’t know how Jin would react if it came to this. Hmm. Rather than this—’
Swish.
Predicting the future is foolish, but building it depends on will. Each stroke of his pen created and erased dozens, hundreds of possible futures. Until the best one emerged, Ian kept extending his branches of thought.
Knock knock.
Click.
Night deepened, dawn creeping in. Normally, he’d have been ordered to eat by now, but the room was strangely silent. The attendants lingered outside the office, then finally made a sound from within, worried he might have collapsed.
“Ian?”
“Shh. Looks like he’s asleep.”
Ian was slumped over his desk, fast asleep. Whether he’d passed out without realizing it or simply fallen asleep, his right hand still gripped the pen. The attendants hurriedly brought a blanket and covered him, placing a meal tray at the edge of the table.
“Hm?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Why is there so much ash on the floor?”
“Looks like something was burned.”
“At this hour?”
Hundreds of futures Ian had conjured from his hand had been incinerated, completely erased. Without even knowing they’d appeared, they vanished again.
And only one sheet of paper remained, tucked beneath Ian’s arm.
The future he had chosen.
Days at the palace passed in a whirlwind. Externally, the grand talent selection continued, while internally, preparations for Jin’s appointment ceremony had begun.
Leaders from all three nations were expected to attend, so the administration and key departments were already on edge.
“Not there, over there! Pay attention!”
“Sorry! There must have been some miscommunication during the handover.”
“What’s the schedule for the remaining matches today? Can we finish before sunset? I heard there are two more promotion matches for the Royal Palace Guard members.”
“The report I submitted took that into account.”
“Huh? Why is the protective barrier so low over there? Magic Department!”
“I’m going to report to Ian. Just a moment!”
Jin munched on a snack, eyes darting around. Unlike the busy staff, the child was leisurely watching the matches.
It wasn’t exactly comfortable to have nothing to do. To make matters worse, Barsabe was sitting beside him, standing in for Siaoshi.
“Your Highness, would you like a drink?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Barsabe offered juice with a mix of formality and nervousness. Despite her efforts to assist Jin, the awkwardness and discomfort were palpable.
It wasn’t just her; the feeling was mutual. Romandro motioned for Jin to look away.
“Your Highness, that’s Sia.”
“Oh, I see. It’s starting.”
“Sia! Do your best! Don’t get hurt!”
“If he wins here, he’ll reach rank three, right?”
“Yes. Since there are so many below the top 100, they assign ranks separately. He showed good form before facing Beric, so expectations are high.”
“Sia! No injuries! Be careful!”
Jin stood up to cheer. The noisy, chaotic arena made it hard to hear anything else, but everyone on the second floor, including Jerrat and Ian, heard his voice clearly. They were watching closely.
Peep!
The whistle signaled the start of the match. Jin kept his eyes on Siaoshi and asked,
“What about Beric?”
“There’s a match coming up next.”
The one who answered was Barsabe. She glanced nervously toward Jarrett.
Honestly, she had always thought that Beric’s skills were exceptional, but never imagined he’d break into the top ten. Barsabe bit her cheek, feeling a subtle sting of defeat.
“Hasn’t he already lost once to a royal guard member?”
“The top ten contenders will be tested repeatedly over several rounds. Most likely—”
“Xiao! That’s it! Keep it up!”
Xiaoshi drove his fist into his opponent’s jaw. Unlike before, his attacks were far more aggressive. Watching the two exchange blows so cleanly, Romandro’s blood boiled, and he kept shouting excitedly.
“Xiaaaao!”
Bam! Thud!
A burst of thick blood sprayed out. The injured fighter moved with impossible agility. The crowd’s cheers swelled louder and louder, shaking the entire arena.
When Xiaoshi slammed his knee into the opponent’s chest, the match was over.
Panting heavily, Xiaoshi looked up to the second floor. On the left, Ian was watching alongside the mages, while on the right, Jin was clapping enthusiastically.
Swish.
“Xiao! Well done! You’re not hurt, are you?”
Xiaoshi looked toward Jin and placed a hand over his chest. Ian gave a faint smile at the sight, then resumed his discussion with the mages. Jarrett observed both of them and finally spoke up.
“Everyone you’ve gathered is flawless. Your judgment is impressive, Minister.”
“All virtues are my duty to uphold. By the way, Beric’s match is next…”
Ian muttered as he flipped through his report. The top ten fighters were about to face their final bouts. Once this was over, the royal guard would undergo a generational shift.
New captains. New members.
And that meant—
‘The captain lineup that will be etched deeply into history is about to be decided.’
Barring any unforeseen circumstances, these would be the ones to face the great beasts. They would be the ones to bring about the downfall of the Atan tribe. A new chapter in history was about to be written. Ian smiled with genuine interest.
“Are you truly stepping forward?”
“This is about selecting the captains. If I don’t approve of someone, they simply won’t make it. We’ll review the rankings starting from number ten…”
Bang! Crash!
Suddenly, the training hall doors were flung open roughly. Beric kicked them wide with force, stepping in with his black sword slung over his shoulder, shouting fiercely. He was the first candidate Jarrett would personally evaluate.
“Ha ha! Beric’s here!”
“…He’s here.”
“…He’s here.”
Jarrett and Ian muttered simultaneously. Beric leveled the tip of his sword at Jarrett with a wicked grin. He was already pissed from recent events, and this felt like a golden opportunity.
“You old bastard. I knew a day like this would come.”
“I didn’t expect you to be this persistent.”
“It’s not persistence, it’s strength! I lost once, but damn, the weight difference was huge! Anyway, this is perfect. Come on down! I’m going to examine you from head to toe. Step right up!”
Before even stepping onto the sparring platform, Beric unleashed his magic. Heat surged from his black sword, instantly filling the training hall. Unlike before, this match allowed each fighter to use their own weapons for the first time.
“I don’t get all that complicated ranking stuff. But if I beat you, old man, that means I get to be captain, right?”