Episode 930

The Ministry of Magic was brightly lit even in the dead of night. Ian was asleep in the lounge, while Arena and the other wizards were still struggling with the mountain of paperwork piled high on their desks. The minister’s office door hadn’t stayed still for a moment, constantly swinging open and shut as people came and went.

Rustle.

“Any response from the Torlun side?”

“No. As of today’s check, there are no abnormal signs.”

“That’s strange. Torlun was the country the Underworld God originally used as a stronghold.”

Arena pushed aside the stacked cups and immediately, her aide poured a fresh pot of coffee.

“It doesn’t seem to be the case this time.”

‘This time,’—the phrase carried a heavy implication. Arena had combed through records from the past hundred years, searching for any information about the Underworld God.

“The power of the Underworld God comes from ‘faith.’ A hundred years ago, it’s recorded that they expanded their influence by exploiting the faith of the people centered in Torlun. But this time, it’s different?”

“Once faith is broken, it’s difficult to restore it.”

That was true. For Torlun, that day in history was nothing but humiliation, despair, and pure terror. The capital was razed by the Underworld God, and under Bariel’s rule, the country declined into a shadow of its former glory. Reinstating faith in the Underworld God there would be nearly impossible.

“If that bastard Underworld God wants to come back out, it’ll need some kind of medium.”

“I agree.”

A protective shield that could gather faith and hide among the Gaia people, who lived under the guidance of the gods. Arena tapped on the map, murmuring as she considered each country.

“Where could it be… Burgos and Clifoford, especially Clifoford, have friendly ties with Bariel, so they won’t act rashly.”

“The only one left is Luswena.”

“That’s a possibility.”

Luswena maintained a somewhat neutral relationship with Bariel, but their feelings ran deeper and more complicated. Bariel had once invaded their capital and executed their king, so their relationship was more like a bitter love-hate.

“Should we start monitoring Luswena’s movements?”

“That would be wise, but…”

The aide added cautiously.

“A hundred years ago, the Underworld God lost its power once and has only just begun to reappear. I think it’s more likely they’ll use a small faction rather than trying to control a whole nation to regain faith.”

Hmm. Arena nodded thoughtfully. It seemed unlikely there would be a large-scale war like before. Instead, the unrest would probably start from within, creating chaos.

If so, the peace of the royal palace could be shattered by ‘someone’—just one person. That alone would be enough.

‘For example, it could be a wizard.’

Arena signed the documents and gave her orders.

“Let’s keep a close watch. Have Ian focus on Luswena for now.”

“Yes. Fortunately, he’s handling his duties well without any issues.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what we’d do without him. What about Idgal?”

Besides opening portals, Ian had another task: to try again to create and control Idgal, just like he did in the Rift Zone.

The aide shook his head.

“He says he doesn’t really understand how he did it before. He hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet.”

“Ah, damn it. I should’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

Aco had gone on and on about it, getting all excited and explaining in a way no one could understand, and Hale hadn’t seen it, so there was nothing to ask. The Imperial Defense Department? They’d definitely try to slander with personal grudges and emotions, so their words weren’t worth listening to.

“Tell Ian to keep trying. If he can freely create Idgal… it could turn the whole game around.”

What would happen? They could suppress the rift, but ironically, it would mean the Ministry of Magic would be restraining itself. It couldn’t be helped. Regulations would be necessary to prevent Idgal from running rampant.

Thankfully, Ian was smart enough to understand the dual nature of Idgal’s existence, but no one could predict how things would turn out.

‘Do this right, Arena. Damn it.’

Smack!

Arena slapped her own cheek, scolding herself, and the aide raised an eyebrow. Ian had to be raised with absolute goodness as his standard—more precisely, following Bariel’s definition of justice.

“But what’s this?”

“Oh, it’s from the Imperial Defense Department.”

“Ugh, smells like trouble. Annoying.”

The aide smiled and handed her a document.

“It’s a proposal for a state funeral for Commander Crony.”

“What?”

Since the top commander died during the war, they were requesting proper honors. Not that they had won, and all the while, they were secretly trying to smuggle out Idgal.

“Wow, that’s ridiculous. The northern tribes still haven’t said a word?”

The northern side had evidence that the Imperial Defense Department tried to smuggle out Idgal. But they were dead set on denying it, even if it meant death. Admitting it would break their ties with the Defense Department.

“Yes. It seems they’re unwilling to sever ties with the Defense Department, probably because of past conflicts with the Ministry of Magic.”

Their relationship with the wizards was already over after all the fighting. To protect the northern alliance, they desperately needed the Defense Department’s help.

Of course, with Crony dead and both the minister and deputy minister positions vacant, how long would they leave it empty? It would be normalized soon enough.

“Anyway, they sure know how to scheme.”

Once the Defense Department was back to normal, they’d try to cover up the Idgal incident and deny it. They had to, or else they’d give the Ministry an excuse. Since their fates were intertwined, the northern side kept denying the Defense Department’s involvement.

“Should we push a little harder?”

“No, it’s too soon after the ceasefire. For now, have them assess the situation and submit a report. Astana? I heard they’re friendly to the Ministry?”

“More precisely, they seem to be favorable toward Ian.”

“That king over there is a strange old man. If we want evidence, we have to dig into Astana. Officially request talks and invite them to the Ministry.”

“Yes, understood. Minister, what about the state funeral?”

“Tell them to drop it. Who’s going to clean up after Crony when we’re working nonstop? No conscience at all.”

They’d have to refuse on the grounds of manpower shortage.

Anyway, the funeral would proceed without the Ministry. It might be a bit dull without magic, but a memorial march was possible, and they needed an event to boost morale and unity in the fragile Defense Department. Besides, it was customary to honor commanders who died in war.

“Well, with that settled, everything’s fallen apart.”

Arena rested her chin on her hand and muttered softly. She recalled the moment Ian had pleaded to be sent north, determined and resolute. He said Crony had killed his parents, and if he didn’t confront him now, he’d live in fear forever.

‘It ended on a sour note.’

With Crony dead, Ian would no longer be threatened. But at the same time, Ian couldn’t uncover the truth behind his parents’ deaths, nor question the death of Lato Alpat, Crony’s biological father.

“Damn bastard.”

The aide flinched as he gathered the documents and looked back at her.

“You mean Crony?”

“You know me too well. Look at him—after all he did, he just died like that. I never liked that guy from the start.”

“Well, in the end, things worked out.”

“It doesn’t feel satisfying. Unresolved things always cause problems later.”

The aide hesitated. Problems? What problems could arise from Crony, who had been sucked into the rift and whose body was never found? Maybe she was too caught up in Ian’s grudge.

“I’ll take care of the paperwork. It’s already dawn; you should get some rest. I’ll wake you up later.”

“When?”

“In an hour and a half.”

“Ha! Thanks.”

“Won’t you sleep?”

Arena flopped down on the sofa and asked. More than half the wizards left in the office were already dozing off, their heads tilted back.

But the aide just smiled and grabbed the door handle, as if to say he still had work to finish.

Creak.

As he stepped out, a familiar face appeared.

“Romandro?”

“Oh, aide.”

The two exchanged brief nods in the hallway. Both looked worse for wear, which was a bit surprising. Romandro headed toward the lounge, chuckling.

“I brought some clothes for Ian. Looks like he’s been wearing the same outfit for three days straight.”

“Oh dear, I should’ve paid more attention.”

“No, no! It’s my job. You’re busy enough as it is.”

Romandro smiled warmly, carrying a paper bag full of clothes.

“But Ian is really something, isn’t he? I’ve worked at the Ministry for generations, and I’ve never seen a wizard this brilliant. I heard there was someone like him a long time ago, but I can’t quite remember.”

“…Do you know what Ian thinks about Sir Crony’s death?”

“Crony?”

“Yes. The minister is worried. Unresolved pasts always leave marks on the heart.”

“I haven’t had a chance to ask in detail since Ian’s been so busy lately—”

How many times had Romandro seen him since returning from the north? He thought back and answered.

“A couple of times, maybe.”

“They said it’s hard to believe.”

“Hard to believe?”

Even though Crony had witnessed the fracture up close, they still couldn’t believe it? Did it mean it didn’t feel real?

“They said it still feels like he’s alive.”

“…So that’s what the minister meant by a ‘knot.’ When things wrap up so suddenly, swept away by circumstances, it never really feels like an ending.”

“Well, they haven’t even found a body… Honestly, I still can’t quite wrap my head around it either. Ha.”

Romandro nodded toward the lounge as if to excuse himself.

“But one thing’s for sure: from now on, all Ian has to do is grow up safely.”

“That’s right.”

“Time for a child doesn’t stop; it keeps flowing. I’ll have to keep up with him, too.”

It had been a good conversation, the aide said politely, bowing his head.

After parting ways, Romandro carefully opened the lounge door and looked for Ian. At the far end, Ian lay quietly on the bed, breathing softly.

“……”

It was a foolish thing to say, but he was sleeping so peacefully. Romandro tidied the bedding and placed some clothes by the child’s head. Then he quietly reflected on their recent conversation.

‘Yes. Ian’s time will keep flowing, no matter what.’

Romandro smiled, gently poking Ian’s adorable cheek. He wondered what the boy would look like as he grew up. Just then, Ian shifted in his sleep.

“Hmm.”

Startled, Romandro froze, afraid Ian might wake. Thankfully, Ian buried his face in the pillow with a contented sigh and soon drifted back into a deep sleep.

‘Sleep well, Ian.’

Click. The soft light flickered off completely. A stillness, as if the world had stopped, filled the room. But Ian’s time was definitely moving forward—and it would never stop.

Ten years passed like that, until one night just before Ian’s sixteenth birthday.