Episode 741

Deep within Ian flowed a still, vast reservoir of water. It lay quiet and undisturbed, yet every so often, the surface rippled in time with a pulse that surged up from within.

Ian found that trembling unsettling. What troubled him even more was that he couldn’t pinpoint the exact moments that stirred it. Everything in the world—every sight, every sound—intermittently struck his heart like a distant drum.

A nameless wildflower blooming by the roadside, sand swirling on the wind, the sunburnt skin of soldiers, the laughter of mages, Beric’s meaningless jokes, piano music that seemed to echo like a phantom, the valor of warriors, a mother clutching her child as they fled…

At any such moment, when these fragments of life brushed against some hidden chord inside him, Ian would stiffen without realizing it. Enduring the ache in his chest without breaking was deeply uncomfortable. Yes, “uncomfortable” was the perfect word.

The pulses came irregularly, unpredictably. On an already uncertain battlefield, that was something he could never allow.

At first, he tried to ignore it. But the more he turned away, the more it unsettled him. So, he began to accept that these moments were simply part of the burden he had to bear. Just as he reached that understanding—

“You don’t seem to understand.”

He met the father of King Toorun.

Ian lowered his sword and gripped the man’s neck. He felt the pulse. Was it his? Not his own? That very pulse that had shaken something deep inside him, tearing apart his center without mercy.

With every thump, Ian had to endure a sharp sting alone.

“I am Ian Hiel of Bariel. My mother is Philia, my father Nersarn. We were the people of Bariel and the guardians of the desert. Your child stole my parents’ breath, so I have no reason not to do the same.”

“Ugh! Ugh ugh!”

Flames roared up. Oil spilled from a lamp, soaking the carpet and crawling toward the edge of the bed’s canopy.

The child reflected in the mayor’s eyes looked unreal, almost like a hallucination. Had Judge Mer deceived him? Or had he been deceived as well?

Ian didn’t know. Even seeing this man before him as the Minister of Magic for Bariel, he could hardly believe it. The heat—was it from the fire, or from those blazing golden eyes? He couldn’t tell.

“Gah!”

The mayor struggled desperately as his vision blurred. But the harder he fought, the stronger the force holding him became. His gaze finally drifted into empty space, and only then did Ian’s grip loosen.

“……”

The man lay sprawled, naked and pitiful. Ian wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Was it sweat or tears? This was both a gift and a reply to the king. He tightened his grip on his sword, determined to leave a mark on the corpse.

Tap tap tap.

“Master!”

“Gah!”

At that moment, the mansion’s servants burst in, responding to a woman’s cry for help. They froze when they saw Ian standing alone in the blazing room.

When they first heard the story, they’d been ready to beat the insolent slave senseless—

“Ma-master?”

“Is he dead?”

But now, facing Ian, they couldn’t bring themselves to take a step closer.

They peered cautiously from the doorway toward the bed. The mayor lay dead, trapped beneath amber-colored crystal.

Swish.

Slash!

Without hesitation, Ian swung his sword at the corpse.

To wound the dead was a clear insult. Yet no one dared intervene. Ian pointed the bloodied blade at the servants.

“If you want to live, leave this place now.”

“Eek!”

“And tell everyone: Bariel’s judgment has come to the capital. Those who wish to survive must bow and beg for mercy.”

The servants quickly grasped the situation and fled outside. It was better to call the guards or the militia—this was beyond their ability to handle.

As the mansion’s people fled, Mer awoke and grabbed someone’s arm.

“What’s going on?”

“The mayor is dead! That slave isn’t human!”

“What?”

“His eyes—they were flashing! We have to get out of here!”

“No, wait—”

The servants had no time to explain and dragged him along.

Mer glanced back as they were pushed forward. Smoke billowed in the darkness, flames growing larger. Leaning on the railing, the boy watched down on them. Now he understood why the servants called him less than human.

“A mage.”

Mer immediately recognized his identity and led the servants out of the mansion. Many townsfolk had already gathered along the street, staring at the fire.

“Hey! Put out the fire!”

He shouted at the dazed crowd, rushing forward. That mage’s gaze on him was no accident.

“Inform the palace.”

His role was clear: go to the palace and report that mages had invaded the capital.

He wondered if following the mage’s wishes was the right move, but he had no other choice. He, who had only ever extorted petty bribes at the tribunal, was no match for a mage.

Neigh!

He spurred his horse toward the palace. Citizens, noticing the commotion, gathered in small groups. They wore light clothes but moved cautiously.

“What is this—”

“Fire!”

“Help us! Damn it, we don’t have enough sand!”

“Water! We need water!”

“Miss? Miss Aris?”

“She’s safe. Just a little shaken—”

“Hey! You there! Why are you just standing there? We need help!”

Unlike the servants who ran to fetch water, the citizens stood idly by, watching the fire. Even when urged to help, they remained rooted in place.

“Why should we?”

“…What?”

The firelight illuminated their faces, all of them looking entranced, almost satisfied.

The servants hesitated, glancing at the crowd.

“The mayor tried to kill us. Why should we help him?”

“Exactly. He stabbed us with a spear earlier. My child’s forehead is still torn.”

“He called himself the mayor, but it felt like we were serving two kings. Whether the mansion burns or not, who cares? It was built with our blood and sweat.”

“Good to see this after so long. Yeah, that’s it.”

“This is madness…”

“Don’t bother trying anymore. It’s too late. Without the mansion, you’re no different from us.”

“Yeah. It’s over. The mayor’s done for.”

Hearing the murmurs, the servants stopped moving. It was true—the mayor was already dead in his bedroom. Only young Aris remained, but could she pay their wages?

One by one, the servants set down their buckets. Even if the citizens helped, struggling alone to fight the fire was pointless.

“No! Everyone, move! Please!”

Aris whispered, desperate, but no one listened. After a while, her sobs quieted, and she simply stared blankly at the mansion.

“……”

At dawn, the charred pillars of the mansion sagged, collapsing weakly.

---

Creak.

Ian gently grasped the doorknob of the building Vanusa had pointed out.

It was a faint, almost imperceptible sound. But at that moment, a clatter came from inside. Ian hesitated, then carefully pushed the door open.

“Ian-nim!”

“You’re here!”

The mages crowded in, faces pressed close, tangled together as if ready to spill out the door. Their eyes shone with relief. Ian instinctively took a step back, then smiled and ushered them inside.

“Such a ruckus.”

“The noise outside was worse. People were running everywhere, it was chaos. Glad you returned safely.”

“Ah, just give us orders and we’ll handle the dirty work. Ian-nim, are you hurt anywhere?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

That casual answer somehow felt reassuring. Ian shrugged off his robe and hung it over a chair, then looked at the unfamiliar children.

“Who are you?”

“We’re Vanusa’s kids.”

“I see.”

“Speak properly! We’re from the Vanusa family. These little ones sure know how to talk—stirring up the citizens and getting them riled up is our specialty.”

“But why only children?”

“The palace rounded up all the adults under the pretense of conscription. Only the kids managed to escape and hide here.”

“The palace must be desperate.”

“Seems that way.”

Ian nodded and glanced at Vanusa. Now that they had entered the capital, there was only one path left.

“By now, the palace must have received word. Any response from the king?”

“Not really…”

“Then there’s no choice.”

Ian smiled faintly, as if anticipating something. He was genuinely curious to see the king’s expression upon hearing of his father’s death. Since no one would tell him, he’d have to see for himself.

“Tayla, Yen.”

“Yes, Ian-nim.”

“The three of you will circle the fortress and disable the gates. Start from the side farthest from where Bariel’s forces will enter.”

Mages have the freedom to move as they please. Using that to draw the guards’ attention toward the farthest castle gate would minimize the main force’s casualties. It would also simplify the entry process.

“Understood.”

“Once inside the capital, you won’t be free from the puppet master’s attacks. Keep that in mind and stay quick on your feet.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll handle it.”

A polite way of saying, “Be careful, it’s dangerous.” Ian placed a hand on Hale’s shoulder and addressed the other mages.

“Hale, Tommy, Nakina, and I will enter the palace directly. The rest of you stay outside to support Bariel’s troops and be ready for anything.”

“Only the four of you are going in?”

“The palace interior is like the king’s own palm. Too many people inside will only cause trouble.”

The mages pressed their lips together anxiously but said no more. They trusted their superiors’ abilities above all else and nodded firmly.

“Understood! We’ll keep relaying messages through magic.”

“Alright, gather up!”

Acorella beckoned the mages with a flick of her fingers and wrapped an arm around Ian’s shoulder. They huddled close, heads together, locking eyes.

“Don’t die. Come back alive.”

“Of course!”

“If you die, I’ll personally make you pay.”

“My life goal is to outlive Acorella.”

“Ian, say a few words.”

“Wait—did you really tie a ribbon before going in?”

“You really don’t get the mood—!”

Smack!

Acorella smacked the forehead of the mage who asked, and Ian just laughed, patting the backs of the mages standing with him.

“Stay safe—”

Ian hesitated for a moment, then continued.

“We’re almost there. Let’s all go home together.”

“Yes, Ian!”

“Let’s go!”

The mages clenched their fists tightly, letting out short, sharp shouts.

“……”

Banusa stood with arms crossed, watching them silently.

Soon, the sun would rise.