Chapter 402
Tap, tap.

Ian tapped his fingertips lightly, half-cradling the box resting by the window. The cold, crisp dawn seemed to settle deep within his eyes.

The mages stood silently, a step back, unable to face their returning comrade’s severed head. Ian offered no words. When asked what to do with the corpse, he remained silent, as if lost in some vast cosmic void, his thoughts drifting far beyond.

As the sun began to rise on the horizon, Ian murmured softly,
“…What are the chances that Luswena handed Jean over to Burgos?”

“Huh?”

Startled by the sudden question, everyone turned their heads sharply. But Ian stayed still, unmoving. The faint sunlight filtering through the window settled gently on his eyelashes.

He spoke again, more to himself than anyone else.
“Could Luswena really have handed Jean over to Burgos?”

“Well, assuming the kid’s story is true, I don’t think so,” one replied.

“I agree. They might have handed over a robe or two to sow confusion, but handing over a mage’s prisoner is a direct act against Bariel. There’s no way they’d give him up so easily to Burgos.”

Had Ian been thinking about this all along? The mages exchanged glances. Since yesterday afternoon until now, at dawn, Ian had shed countless tears, seemingly sinking deeper into despair—though it was a side effect of magic.

Given that only the severed head of his subordinate had returned, Ian’s breaking of the silence was understandably puzzling.

“Ian.”

“Has Luswena sent any reply yet?”

“No. They said they’re preparing so that Prince Noah can verify it when it arrives. You’ll be the first to receive it, Ian. But… are you alright?”

The mages hesitated, then cautiously approached Ian. The box he held—the one containing Selena’s head—felt almost like a weapon aimed at him.

Ian tilted his head coldly.
“What is it?”

“Selena…”

“…”

“If you’re okay, could we have her? We want to hold a proper funeral.”

“No. Without her body, how could I?”

Ian refused firmly with a decisive gesture. Then, as if unaffected, he stepped down from the windowsill and approached the mages. Standing tall and composed, he placed a hand on the nearest mage’s shoulder and said,
“I’m fine. Though my heart feels heavy and cold winds blow through it, what must be done now is to safely bring back the rest of my men and behead Damon to show Burgos our sacred resolve. So don’t speak of worrying about me anymore. Your words don’t reach me.”

They don’t reach me. They don’t change me. He meant for them to hide their worries, fears, and anxieties. His face and voice were calm and steady, but the grip on the mage’s shoulder was tight with resolve.

Ian took a breath and slowly turned his body.
“Now, we’ll try again. If anyone has anything to add, speak freely and without hesitation.”

He knew he wasn’t in the best state. So if there were any gaps or oversights, he wanted them pointed out immediately.

The mages nodded hesitantly. Ian had sworn to personally retrieve Damon’s breath. This was clearly the opening act of his revenge.

Haah.

Snap!

Ian inhaled lightly and flicked his fingers again. His previously slackened mind twitched slightly.

But it wasn’t enough. He needed to be calmer, quieter—like a god watching from the heavens above.

“It seems certain that Burgos and Luswena met secretly. But why is the response from the two countries so different in speed?”

One mage raised a hand.
“If Luswena is this slow, maybe they won’t reply at all? Since they’re aligned with Burgos, they might think there’s no need to act.”

“Rejected. No. If they left the statement to Burgos just because they share the same will, they’d lose priority in leading the war and future negotiations. Knowing Eriphoni’s nature, that’s impossible.”

“Then is it a matter of coordinating opinions?”

“With whom?”

“Well, maybe Burgos and Luswena haven’t agreed… or perhaps between King Eriphoni and his subordinates.”

“That’s plausible.”

Ian nodded in acknowledgment, and the mage smiled faintly.

They sat quietly, watching Ian pace around the table, as if measuring a world only he could see.

“We have Zaira with us. Judging by the atmosphere, it seems Luswena’s mages haven’t cooperated with the palace. With the elder dead and Zaira captured, internal dissent must have reached its peak. The prolonged negotiations could be related to that.”

“Then how about sending another message? Propose exchanging Zaira for Jean.”

“That’s for them to suggest, not us. Because by detaining the mages, they’ve officially stepped into this war. With Bariel’s neutrality and retreat so crucial now, we’ve already done our part by sending one envoy.”

Ian understood. Now, especially Damon of Burgos, would use the mages as hostages to get what they wanted.

Bariel’s declaration of neutrality.

Or the land’s fracture caused by Ian’s rampage.

No letter had come—no hint, no warning—almost as if daring Ian to guess their next move. Ian knew this was a clear provocation, a strong play laid down by Damon.

Clench.

Though he understood it logically, could he fully accept it emotionally? Ian clenched his fist inside his sleeve and hesitated.

The mages, who had been eagerly voicing their opinions, sensed the shift and fell silent.

“…There’s one thing I want to ask of you.”

“To ask permission? What do you mean?”

“Why would Ian do that for us?”

“Yes, really. You say that, and it scares us.”

Ian gave a faint, pitying smile.
“No. I’m the one asking.”

The statement was ambiguous—was he asking permission, or was he asking to save the remaining mages?

“I swear with everything I have: if Yan, Kanchi, Tomi, and Jean can return, I’m ready to risk it all. But we are the Mage Department. Under Bariel. In wartime, responding to the enemy’s demands must be done as a nation, not out of personal feelings. It’s the will of His Majesty the Emperor. So, in that process, if someone—”

Even if they die and return, don’t mourn like I do. Blame me for my shortcomings, but never forget you are Bariel’s mages.

Ian’s purpose was grand: Damon’s death, and peace across the continent under Bariel.

The mages stepped closer again.

“Ian, we’ve said it countless times. You don’t have to bear the risks for us. This is our choice and will. Please respect that.”

“And you don’t negotiate with human lives. Yan, Kanchi, Tomi, and Jean are suffering in enemy territory, but they haven’t forgotten who they are—Bariel’s mages.”

“So, we’ll follow only you, Ian. What will you follow?”

One by one, the mages clasped their hands together. They embraced each other, feeling their shared presence.

“From the moment Selena returned like that, everything was foreseen. We dream for everyone to come back alive, but we mustn’t forget reality. We’re at war.”

“Let’s do our best. But if it’s impossible, don’t cling to regrets. For the greater cause, we must accept sacrifice as sacrifice.” The mages’ eyes told Ian this.

Ian placed his hand over theirs and murmured,
“As Minister of Bariel’s Mage Department, I will pursue the glory of Bariel and the Mage Department.”

“We stand with you.”

“So stop blaming yourself. Or I’ll quit.”

“Me too. After the war, I’m taking my severance and running.”

“I understand. If Selena were here, she’d surely join us and hold our hands.”

Amid their playful comfort, Ian nodded.

Sometimes, you want something desperately—and yet you have to let it go. Now was that time. More than anyone, Ian wanted those four mages to return safely, but all the more reason to firmly seize the upper hand in negotiations. As if their deaths—five mages lost—meant nothing to them. What a cruel irony.

Beric leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Ian. Every time their eyes met, he bared his teeth with a fierce glare.

“I’m watching you. Cry again, and I’ll bite.”

Beside him, Akorella kept checking Ian’s condition, jotting down notes.

Ian picked up a leather glove from the table, donned it solemnly, and checked his pocket watch.

“One hour.”

If no reply came from Luswena within the hour, Ian and the mages would launch an assault on Burgos’s main base.

Though their numbers had dwindled and Ian’s condition was far from ideal, Damon had crossed the line. Cutting off the foot that stepped over was the right thing to do.

“Damon’s rough tactics to provoke me mean that the fissure hasn’t been sufficiently agitated yet. It also suggests that the great earthquake is drawing dangerously close. There’s only today left. No fluff—be concise. Take out the enemy’s commanders—”

“Keep your eyes fixed on Damon’s neck. Watch closely. I will crush his breath, just as Selena will.”

Snap.

The mages placed their hands over their chests and bowed in the formal Bariel palace salute.

That’s settled, then. Ian nodded and turned away, fingers still adjusting his gloves.

He was prepared to face the deaths of four mages, but just thinking about it made his chest tighten, his breath catch.

No showing weakness. When the sun rises, he would become Ian Hiel, Minister of Bariel. Just like in the days when he was emperor, he had to endure even if something inside him shattered.

Knock knock.

“Ian.”

Everyone turned toward the door. A message from Luswena? The mages’ eyes burned fiercely, and the attendant took a cautious step back.

“N-no, it’s not from Luswena.”

“Oh? Then I guess I was just imagining things.”

“What is it?”

“The young mage. The one in confinement.”

“Zyra?”

“Yes, yes.”

The attendant bowed deeply and relayed the message.

“She’s been thinking a lot overnight and wishes to see you, Ian. She wants to pay her respects properly… Should we bring her in with the magic seal stone in place? I don’t know the details, but she said there’s something important to discuss about King Eriphoni of Luswena. She’s cast a spell, but says she’ll only speak directly to you.”

“Let her in.”

She was still clever. Whether that cleverness would lead to wisdom, Ian didn’t know, but he nodded to grant permission.

His gloved hand moved smoothly, the leather firm with resolve.