Chapter 788

“Do you remember this place?”

Romandro asked as he led Ian deeper into the alley. Ian glanced around casually and gave a faint smile. Of course he remembered.

“This is where we went on that covert mission together.”

“You’ve got a good memory.”

“It was only a short while ago for me.”

“Ah.”

But wasn’t Romandro the one with the better memory? He’d recalled something from over ten years ago without hesitation.

Romandro smiled awkwardly and stepped into the alley first. Since it was nearly midnight, the streets were mostly deserted except for a few noisy taverns. Ian tightened his robe and briefly grabbed Romandro’s arm.

“I’ll go in alone from here.”

“Hm?”

“There’s a chance we might run into the Eastern mage. Please wait here for my message. If you don’t hear from me by dawn, go to the Magic Department and inform Hale and Akorella.”

Romandro nodded, but he found the instruction strange. It sounded as if Ian might be in danger from the Eastern mage. Ian was unmatched not only in the Magic Department but across Gaia itself… Romandro whispered, telling him not to scare himself.

“Relax. Is it the darkness? Who would want to hurt you?”

“Just in case. We have no information about the other party at all.”

Since opening the portal, Ian’s magic had grown faint, as if all his energy was focused solely on maintaining his body. On top of that, he couldn’t create Idgal. No one knew what intentions or powers the Eastern mage possessed, so caution was necessary.

Ian nodded once to Romandro and stepped into the darkness.

Swish.

Romandro watched anxiously. Ian stopped briefly in the distance, then approached someone else. The other figure also wore a robe, but Romandro recognized her as Melania. They whispered something before disappearing completely.

“Hmm.”

Click.

“Ugh.”

Click.

Romandro checked his pocket watch every minute. After about ten minutes, he suddenly jumped as if burned—someone poked his shoulder!

“Ahhh!”

“Ahhh!”

Startled, Romandro screamed, and the other person flinched too. Romandro and Beric just blinked, frozen.

“What’s wrong? Did you do something wrong?”

“Good grief, you scared me half to death! What do you think you’re doing sneaking up from behind? If I were a bit younger, you’d have gotten an uppercut.”

“Who do you think I am? Of course I’d come from behind. What are you doing here?”

“Oh? And you?”

“Working.”

“Me too.”

Beric’s eyes narrowed.

Romandro subtly looked away and waved his hand as if to say, ‘Go on.’

“Get back to work.”

“I want to, but it’s a bit awkward with His Majesty around. I’ll be quick. The royal guards who came with me are a bit slow.”

“His Majesty? You came with the Emperor?”

“I said I’m working.”

“What’s awkward about it?”

“There is, okay? But why won’t you answer? What exactly are you doing here? I saw Ian and Melania pass by earlier.”

“…You saw that too.”

“Of course. That’s why I came here.”

Beric crossed his arms, silently demanding no secrets.

Romandro rubbed his mustache, feeling cornered. Beric was captain of the Imperial Guard and, more importantly, accompanying the Emperor himself. Was it right to report the meeting with Melania without Ian’s judgment? Romandro decided to keep his mouth shut. Beric, frustrated, grabbed his cheeks and stretched them.

“You think I’ll just give up if you stay silent?”

“Ugh! Uh!”

Romandro slapped Beric’s hands away and finally gave in.

“So, you’re not going to report this to His Majesty?”

“…Huh?”

“If you’re not reporting, then tell me.”

“Why are you putting it like that?”

“If you are reporting, then just go on your way and don’t ask questions.”

Suddenly, a voice echoed in Beric’s mind—the Chancellor’s voice, doubting whether it was right for someone so close to the Magic Department Minister to be captain of the guard, and whether he could make the right choices between the Emperor and the Minister.

Beric sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Haah. Seriously.”

“Beric, sorry, but there’s no other way.”

A damn mess.

What annoyed him more was the sinking feeling that no matter what happened next, there was nothing he could do. They hid their movements, concealed information, and couldn’t fully trust each other’s words anymore—close, yet drifting apart.

“Damn it.”

Beric crouched, rubbing his face wearily. Romandro felt uncomfortable too but clenched his fist firmly, refusing to back down.

A heavy sigh echoed as Beric dusted off his coat and stood.

“Don’t be late getting back. What time is it?”

“You too, Beric. Take care.”

“Who’s worrying about whom?”

Neither asked why Ian met with Melania or why Romandro was waiting here. Beric said nothing. That meant he intended to report what he saw to the Emperor.

As Beric grumbled and turned to leave, Romandro tapped his shoulder—just like Beric had done earlier.

“Beric.”

“…”

“It’ll be alright.”

The politics of the Imperial Palace were like this: outwardly, everyone went their separate ways, but they knew each other well. They parted with concern for one another, so things would be okay. That was Romandro’s message.

Beric wasn’t ready to fully understand yet, but he was prepared to accept the weight gradually.

“I’m going.”

After Beric disappeared around the corner, Romandro pressed his lips together in regret. Click. Time seemed to stand still.

---

“Congratulations on your victory in the war.”

“Congratulations on returning alive.”

Ian and Melania walked side by side, exchanging quiet greetings. To be precise, Melania was a half-step ahead, and Ian noticed the unusual look in her eyes under the moonlight.

Sure enough, she spoke first, silently signaling that something had happened.

“Sir Ian, does the Imperial Palace know that the leader of the Hawan rebels is dead?”

“Yes. The news arrived just today.”

“The timing is perfect.”

“Do you mean they calculated the schedule before contacting us?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

They weren’t far from the place where the Eastern mages waited. Melania relayed all the information she had gathered as succinctly as possible.

“Sir Ian, though you are a mage, you are also Bariel’s minister. It seems they judged it advantageous to meet after the palace learned of the rebel leader’s death.”

Who? Them.

Whether it was about the firearms or the situation in Hawan, with the entire rebel leadership dead, Bariel had no choice but to meet the Eastern mages.

“They are still searching for the ship that came from the East and know that you and the Magic Department obtained it in Luswena. They seem quite wary of the ship’s owner and prefer to proceed discreetly and swiftly.”

Melania entered a building’s basement and pulled aside a curtain. The room was filled with abandoned items and boxes. The thick dust made Ian cover his nose and mouth with his sleeve as he followed her deeper underground.

“This was a trading company building that traveled to and from the East. It seems to have been the only point of contact with them in the capital.”

Suddenly, Ian wondered about Melania’s memories. In a world where the name Ian Verosion was erased, how did she remember him? Had she forgotten even the identity of the god they met as children?

At that moment, Melania stopped in front of a room at the end of the corridor. They were here.

“Be careful.”

Melania gave a warning with a subtle glance. Arrogant, cruel, and impossible to read—the impression she had gathered, brief as it was, from facing the Eastern magicians.

Knock, knock.

“This is Melania. May I come in?”

As the door opened, Ian hesitated.

Long drapes of red and yellow fabric hung from ceiling to floor, fluttering gently as if stirred by a breeze, despite the room being sealed tight. The flickering light behind the paper screens felt unfamiliar, and an exotic fragrance lingered in the air.

“Ah.”

A woman, leisurely smoking a long pipe, greeted Ian with a relaxed smile. As she rose, the fabric rustled softly.

“Surprising. You’re younger than I expected.”

“…I am Ian Hielo.”

“I’m Eunrang, from the Eastern region of Gyeong. That’s Hoheun over there, from Hyeon. Please, have a seat. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Eunrang gestured for him to sit, her tone polite and formal—quite different from the roughness they’d encountered in Hawan. Melania tensed again. Dealing with brutes was easier; those who changed their demeanor depending on the situation were always more troublesome and insidious.

Eunrang smiled brightly and took another puff from her pipe.

“There’s so much I’m curious about.”

Ian glanced at Hoheun, who was watching him intently, holding a single stiff white hair above his eyebrow. Noticing Ian’s gaze, Eunrang waved it off as if to say, “Don’t mind him.”

“In Hoheun’s land, it’s common to do that to strangers upon first meeting. It’s not exactly polite, but please understand.”

Turning Ian’s attention back to herself, Eunrang pulled out a small pouch. It contained idgal, a rare gem given to her by the rebel leader in exchange for firearms. She gently rattled the precious stones as if caressing them.

“I received these in Hawan as payment for the guns. Surprisingly, they absorb magic and neutralize it. I’ve never seen such magic stones in the East, so I found them quite fascinating.”

A thick plume of smoke drifted from her lips. A woman whose pale beauty concealed her true nature—this was Eunrang’s first impression of Ian.

“But I heard that the minister himself made these?”

“That’s correct.”

“I couldn’t believe it. In the East, there are no magicians who create magic stones. Truly astonishing. I was hoping to meet him, and then this young lady led us here.”

Ian sensed something off in Eunrang’s words. Though they seemed like mere pleasantries, there was an odd undertone.

‘…Curious.’

Just as Ian was about to speak, Eunrang leaned on Hoheun’s arm and made a request.

“But before that, could you show us?”

“Show what?”

“That you are the magician who creates idgal.”

A magician who could create magic stones was unheard of even in Gaia. And to produce stones that could nullify magic? It seemed impossible. They wanted to confirm whether Ian was truly a “magician.”

“Eunrang.”

At that moment, Hoheun called to her.

“There’s no need.”

“Hm?”

Hoheun lowered the white hair from his eyebrow. It was a strand from a white tiger that had lived over a thousand years—a sacred relic that lent its power to see through a person’s true nature.

“It’s a lie.”

As Hoheun spoke, Melania’s eyes widened bit by bit.

“The author’s name is not Ian Hielo. Moreover, he is not a being of this world.”