Chapter 223: Under a Starry Night Sky

Despite her poor magical talent, lackluster noble upbringing, and troublesome personality, Rebecca had always been the most favored member of the family. After all, by her generation, the Cecil family had completely declined, and the elders had no other heirs to nurture or care for.

So Rebecca had received countless gifts throughout her life—so many she could hardly keep track.

Yet few of those gifts ever left a lasting impression on her.

Whether it was pretty dresses or new spellbooks and history tomes, none of it felt fresh or exciting. Unlike typical noble girls who adored flowers and new clothes, Rebecca had little interest in history or etiquette. But ever since her ancient ancestor had risen from the grave, she finally found someone she could relate to—someone who always brought novelty and excitement: a forebear from seven centuries ago. Rebecca had assumed Gawain would be the most rigid, serious elder she’d ever met, but to her surprise, this ancestor was incredibly interesting, full of wild ideas that rivaled her own.

Even the gifts he gave her were fascinating.

Still, holding this thing called a “telescope,” Rebecca felt conflicted—maybe even sulking a bit. “I don’t like looking at stars! Never have—what’s the point?”

Gawain just smiled and gently led the silly girl up to the lord’s manor rooftop terrace. Under Hetty’s astonished gaze, he helped Rebecca set up the telescope’s mount and adjust the focus, then pressed her head down so she could look through the eyepiece.

Half a minute later—

“Looking at stars is actually really fun!!” Rebecca exclaimed, completely losing her usual stubbornness.

“Ancestor, is this… the gift you said you gave Rebecca?” Hetty, drawn by the commotion, put down her astrolabe and came over. “There’s no magical aura… what is this?”

“You can try it yourself,” Gawain said with a smile. “Well… it doesn’t come with a star chart, so it’s not as professional as your astrolabe for astronomy, but if you just want to observe distant objects, it should be easier to use than your magic tools.”

Hetty pushed Rebecca’s head aside with some effort, then peered into the eyepiece herself, her expression turning to surprise.

In this world, the Eagle Eye technique and the derived “astrolabe” had become the main ways to observe distant objects and stars. Though limited to spellcasters, these methods had stifled any exploration of optical science. The physical laws of optics here were no different from what Gawain knew, but since a single spell could reveal distant sights, who would think to combine convex and concave lenses to build a telescope?

The two approaches were just too far apart.

Rebecca stared blankly at the strange metal device, circling it several times. She couldn’t find a single rune or magical material on it and scratched her head in confusion. “But why is it like this?”

Hetty looked up curiously. “Yeah, why?”

Hearing their questions, Gawain’s lips twitched into a smile.

They were finally learning to ask “why”—to dig into principles rather than just accept things as they are. This was exactly the mindset he had been trying to instill in the technicians of the domain, and now he was seeing the fruits of his efforts in these two descendants.

“This calls for a talk about how light travels,” Gawain said after a moment’s thought, deciding to keep it simple. “You at least know what a magnifying glass is, right?”

He explained the effects of convex and concave lenses and the basic principle of the telescope, but he avoided going too deep or sounding too certain. Instead, he described how the telescope worked as a hypothesis, cautious because—

This strange world’s physical laws were so odd, who could be sure that the telescope’s optics followed Earth’s standards? Maybe on a macro level, light behaved as he knew it, but what if at the microscopic level, “light” here was something entirely different?

He knew how much influence he had on Hetty and Rebecca. Even if they already had a scientific mindset, his words would leave a deep impression. So he always avoided speaking too definitively about magical principles—unless the knowledge was thoroughly tested—to prevent skewing their future research.

Rebecca listened, wide-eyed. She knew magic theory, math, mechanics, and some alchemy, but had never thought to explain the world’s workings from this angle. It was exhilarating. “So the light we see everywhere… actually has such interesting properties?”

As she spoke, she eagerly looked through the telescope again, imagining those distant starlights traveling across the magic-filled atmosphere, finally passing through the lenses to form clearer, magnified images. She saw more stars than ever before, brighter and more numerous, and even faint celestial structures hidden between them.

Though the first telescope’s craftsmanship limited its magnification, preventing her from uncovering too many stellar secrets, the unexpectedly brilliant night sky was enough to make her gasp in wonder.

“I used to want to throw giant fireballs at the sky to blow the stars down,” Rebecca said, blinking up at the heavens. “But they’re so far away…”

“Actually, you know, most stars are basically huge burning fireballs,” Gawain said with a smile, quickly adding, “Of course, that’s just my guess.”

“Stars are burning fireballs?” Rebecca stared at him in surprise. “What do they burn? How can they keep burning for so long?”

Back home, it was hydrogen, but who knew what these stars burned…

Gawain could only laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know either.”

“Ancestor, you’re not lying to me, right?” Rebecca eyed him suspiciously. “Stars can’t really be giant fireballs!”

“Don’t talk to the ancestor like that!” Hetty shot Rebecca a stern look. But just as Gawain was halfway moved, she added, “The ancestor used to hang in the sky, so he must have seen how stars burn—right, ancestor?”

Gawain: “Uh… yes, yes…”

“Wow, that’s amazing!” Rebecca exclaimed dramatically, then rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “So, if I made a fireball really, really big and threw it really, really far, could it become a star?”

“…That’s probably impossible,” Gawain said, hands spread in a helpless shrug. “Stars are way bigger than you imagine. But again, that’s just my guess.”

Hetty looked thoughtful. “Ancestor, then is ‘Ao’ also a burning fireball?”

“Ao… probably.”

Gawain crossed his arms and gazed up at the brightest star in the night sky.

Of course, he knew what it was—or at least, he could guess.

This planet beneath their feet (assuming it was a planet) wasn’t a standard one. It was likely a moon orbiting a gas giant, which people called the “sun.” That gas giant itself orbited another celestial body, which was very likely “Ao”—the brightest star in the sky, sometimes visible even during the day, a mysterious lone star with a special place in the minds of magicians and astrologers: the ultimate mysterious star.

Supernaturals had many interpretations of “Ao,” but all agreed it held a unique role in mysticism: it was the reference point for nearly all astrological observations, the mental focus for magicians’ meditations, and in some religious legends, the gateway to the gods’ realm—a guiding lighthouse to the divine abode.

Rebecca looked up and suddenly noticed something. “Come to think of it… ‘Ao’ seems brighter tonight than usual.”

“After winter begins, Ao’s brightness increases. Didn’t you know? That’s basic astrology!” Hetty sighed at Rebecca. “I don’t know what you did with all the stuff you learned as a kid.”

Rebecca shrugged. “I know that, but this winter, during the Constellation Festival, ‘Ao’ seems even brighter than before!”

“Really…” Hetty looked skyward skeptically. She couldn’t detect such subtle changes with the naked eye, but she knew Rebecca had an uncanny sensitivity to these odd details, so she half-believed her. “Maybe something’s changed… Actually, I remember reading in some obscure magic books that when the constellations align just right, the ultimate mysterious star ‘Ao’ strengthens its connection to the mortal world. The gates between the gods’ realm and ours loosen, and the prophesied years of perfect constellation alignment are supposed to be in the near future.”

Hearing Hetty’s cryptic words, Gawain felt an odd sense of déjà vu.

Constellations aligning… that sounded ominous.

As he pondered whether this “perfect alignment” was just a wild legend or some magical phenomenon, the terrace door suddenly burst open. The sea siren’s panicked voice rang out: “Oh no, it’s a disaster, a disaster, a disaster!!”

“What disaster?!” Gawain was startled. He’d never seen Til so frantic before—usually the seafood creature was lazy and slow. This sudden outburst caught him off guard. “Are they trying to cook you?”

“The constellation alignment! The constellation alignment!” Til flailed her fish tail as she hurried over, gesturing wildly. “Today’s the day the stars return to their places! When the constellations reach the right positions, the giant squid in the deep sea… the giant squid…”

Gawain had just been thinking about the stars and the deep-sea eldritch gods. Hearing Til, a deep-sea creature, mention that suspected ancient god in such a panic made cold sweat break out on him. “Explain clearly! What happens to the giant squid when the constellations align?”

“The giant squid goes unlimited!” Til was so upset she was nearly in tears. “I missed dinner!”

Gawain: “…What?!”

(End of chapter)