A Runaway Villainess, Now Healing In An Enemy Country - Chapter 29
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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【Chapter 29】
“…A ring?”
It was a voice that sounded somewhat shaken.
I sketched the ring from that time in the margin of the paper.
A silver ring sized to fit an adult woman’s finger.
The ring without a single gem decoration was crude if you called it crude, neat if you called it neat.
However, it was made of high-purity platinum.
“To be precise, I transformed a stone into a platinum ring.”
It wasn’t the ‘orthodox’ magic that Valtrès pursued.
A family that produced generations of outstanding magical power and correspondingly strong pure mages.
That’s why I lived without even knowing that the discipline of magical alchemy existed until I turned eight.
‘I almost lost half my life’s potential.’
Creating gold with my first magic.
Usually, first magic is mostly basic lowest-level magic like generating a sphere of light. Even that genius Noah was the same.
But mine was a much more complex transformation magic, so I was able to gain recognition at once.
“Actually… I’m not sure why it became a ring shaped like this. I just wanted to change it into gold.”
“…”
“Not just anyone can change stone into gold. My first magic manifestation was late, so I wanted to prove something about myself, you know.”
That I was undoubtedly a person of this place, of Valtrès.
Though it was proof that had lost its value by now.
“…”
The Duke remained silent.
He just couldn’t take his eyes off the ring sketch I had roughly drawn, staring at it intently.
I became slightly embarrassed and cleared my throat before asking back.
“Ahem. But why did you ask about this?”
“…”
“What was your first magic, Master?”
Embarrassingly, no answer came back.
He remained motionless as if time had stopped for him alone, looking more like a person in a painting, more like a still life than a person.
I didn’t urge him or add more words.
Tap tap tap.
When the snowflakes hitting the window grew thicker, he took something from his chest and placed it on the desk.
…It was a platinum ring.
One that looked exactly like my sketch made of black lines.
“Was it a ring that looked like this?”
Though he was asking, it was a tone of certainty.
The color, shape, and size were all too similar. If there was any difference from the ring in my memory.
It was only that the Duke’s ring showed traces of once being a magical tool, and that preservation magic was currently cast on it.
‘…Why?’
The moment I saw his ring, strangely enough, some inexplicable sense of déjà vu came before bewilderment or shock.
Frozen, I barely managed to nod my head.
‘Why does he have that?’
The ring’s appearance itself was nothing special. There would be hundreds or thousands of similar rings.
But…
I thought with an intuition that reason couldn’t accept.
But that would be the ‘same’ ring.
“I see.”
The Duke, who put the ring back in his chest, changed the subject instead of resolving questions about the ring.
“Unconscious imagery manifests most strongly in first magic. To use magical power… efficiently, it’s good to focus on calculation processes, but you. If you make that imagery more specific…”
“…Y-Your Grace?”
The Duke rambled uncharacteristically.
So I belatedly realized he was answering my earlier question.
“If you make the imagery more concrete, you… can produce magical power beyond the magic you possess.”
It was good advice, but it didn’t resonate with me now.
I was more curious about what that ring was. But I couldn’t easily ask.
I really wanted to know, but I also didn’t want to know.
Wrapped in indescribable feelings, I looked at the Duke whose eyelids were trembling finely.
That man whose identity I couldn’t know, whose intentions I couldn’t know, whose secrets I couldn’t know, like the greatest puzzle of my life.
“…And my first magic was.”
He seemed to choose his words, then opened his mouth.
“I killed a person.”
* * *
Davuer Winze was born as a saint candidate.
Problems like being the shame of the proud Belmayer Ducal House or being the illegitimate child of the deceased former Duke’s daughter weren’t particularly important.
Since he was born with strong holy power, he might awaken great divinity in the future and become a saint.
So he could receive a castle, even if it was just for show.
It was a time when the prestige of God and the temple was very high.
A human chosen by God to act on His behalf. A saint or saintess who existed only one per generation.
During that period, children with above-average holy power were preciously raised in the Grand Temple as divine candidates.
Education was harsh and duties as candidates were heavy, but life was even more abundant than that.
“I’m worried about you.”
However, the legitimate heir of Belmayer, his older sister five years his senior, didn’t see him as a saint candidate.
She worried about the young brother she could barely see three times a year. She secretly looked after him even knowing their parents disapproved.
“Don’t trust the temple people too much. Always be suspicious.”
“Older Sister. Why do you always view the temple badly?”
“Someday you’ll understand too. I hope you won’t be tainted by the temple or used by them.”
Davuer couldn’t understand her. To him, the temple was a strict but kind place.
However, that benevolence resembled a mirage.
The year he turned ten.
On his birthday evening when he was invited to Belmayer’s main castle by his sister and even had his portrait painted.
Returning to the Grand Temple, he had to face ‘penance.’
“Saint candidate, you must perform your duty.”
Even after the previous saint met death, none of the considerable candidates had awakened divinity.
A generation without divinity. It was an unprecedented situation.
When a year passed like that, the temple became impatient.
“It is the will of the great God.”
They began researching methods to forcibly awaken divinity. However, they couldn’t use precious bloodlines for experiments that might break them.
The candidates who became test subjects consisted of children from fallen noble families, illegitimate children, commoners, and those from impoverished areas.
“You must endure. God is watching.”
In the deepest part of the temple, in the cave-like dark underground.
Each time he was isolated in that ‘penance chamber,’ Davuer had his blood drawn or was fed unknown drugs, and sometimes was locked in a room with starving monsters.
He thought something was greatly wrong, but he couldn’t rebel. It might have been because of the magic drugs, or because of his lifelong duty as a saint candidate.
Or it might have been because he was naturally very dull to emotional stimuli.
After months of not meeting his sister, when time underground became longer than time above ground.
“Saint, let us save these people using divine power.”
‘Patients’ tainted with dark magi came to him.
It was an absurd demand.
Because Davuer still hadn’t awakened his divinity.
All he could use was holy power. He could heal wounds, but he couldn’t purify magi.
His holy power naturally failed to save the patient.
“This is not salvation.”
The ‘patients’ who only had their external wounds healed by holy power were killed by the priest. He said he would repeat these salvation attempts until Davuer awakened his divinity.
And he really did just that. Every single day.
“Is this really, huff… right…”
“Of course. You’re doing very well. Since you’re working so hard, you’ll succeed soon.”
And so it continued for several more months.
“Saint candidate, let us save this patient.”
As always, a ‘patient’ was brought in.
A girl who appeared to be my age, wearing an expensive cloak like a sack. Only her attire and age were different from usual.
Davuer habitually used holy power on the child who seemed unconscious.
Only a small scratch on her left cheek disappeared.
The ominous magi in her body, her unstable breathing, her pale complexion—everything remained the same, so he thought he had failed again this time.
“I see. Let’s have her stay with us for a while.”
However, the girl who wasn’t saved wasn’t killed. It was the first change in months.
The priest spoke matter-of-factly.
“She’s worth continuing to experiment on.”
Creak, thud.
The moment the iron underground door closed. The girl woke up as if she had been waiting for the priest to leave.
Her golden eyes, which seemed to cry out that she was still alive even while turning into a demon, glowed strangely.
Her first words were these:
“Shit.”
“Shi… what?”
“Hi there, cough! You’re really pretty. You live in a pretty shabby place though, cough!”
“…This is the penance chamber. My room is above ground.”
“Sure, whatever.”
It was a voice that strangely sounded like a sigh.
Even while coughing constantly, she busily examined the narrow underground room. She knocked on the walls, making sounds like ‘hmm, hmm’ as if gauging something.
Even though demonization was progressing, albeit in its early stages, she was far too calm. She showed no signs of fear about the unfamiliar place either.
Coming back to Davuer, she declared:
“Now, cough! From now on, we’re going to plan our escape.”
“…Escape?”
“Yeah. If we stay here, both you and I are guaranteed to die like dogs. Cough! I don’t want to die, so we need to run away.”
That statement sounded utterly bizarre.
While he had often thought he wished this penance would end quickly, he had never thought of escape, not even in dreams.
It was such an unfamiliar yet sweet-sounding temptation that Davuer replied as if hypnotizing himself:
“I can’t leave. God would be angry.”
“Huh?”
“And I won’t die.”
Then she openly sighed.
“You’re dumber than you look, aren’t you?”
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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