The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master - Chapter 15

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 15
“The original owner of the mansion came to the Mage Tower seeking me. They wanted a rare Magical Artifact, so I gave it to them in exchange for this property.”
“So you’re saying we became neighbors purely by chance?”
To that question—which may have carried a trace of sarcasm—Lien shook his head hesitantly.
“The decision to move here was… because I was curious about you, Prospective Saint.”
“……Me?”
“Yes. Did you know that articles about you appear occasionally not just in Weberdine, but in the Capital as well?”
She hadn’t.
That a mere Prospective Saint was regarded as something of a celebrity—the thought had never crossed her mind.
Only then did she realize that the Pope’s earlier words about so many people wanting to see a Saint were no exaggeration.
“I happened to come across an article about the next Saint some time ago. That’s why I wanted to meet Cecilia in person, if the opportunity ever arose.”
Good grief.
Cecilia pressed her lips firmly shut, afraid they might fall open in shock.
‘So he was already interested in Cecilia before he started this whole scheme!’
She couldn’t decide whether to be pleased that Plan D was on the verge of success, or disgusted by how skillfully he’d concealed his true intentions all along.
But before her heart could settle in either direction, Lien added softly,
“I was curious about the Holy Power you possess.”
‘Ah.’
Well, that made sense. So it was simply curiosity about the Holy Power.
Cecilia recalled the white light that had poured from her hands.
The nature of a power with unclear causes but clear effects was something that intrigued her as well.
Yet he was a mage with no connection whatsoever to Holy Power, and moreover, he was the head of the Mage Tower itself.
“Why is that?”
It was a casual question, asked without giving it much thought—which of all things was her mistake.
The moment Lien pushed his large glasses up the bridge of his nose, she understood her error.
“It’s fascinating precisely because Holy Power operates on a different principle from Magic, which draws upon the body’s internal reserves and atmospheric Mana. In an isolated system, energy is neither created nor destroyed—only transformed in state. Magic obeys this same Law of Energy Conservation, converting Mana into potential energy, light energy, thermal energy, or other forms. But Holy Power… it doesn’t follow that rule. The fundamental difference in the nature of the force itself is striking, but what’s particularly intriguing is how the Weberdine family’s Holy Power is inherited through bloodline, suggesting a mechanism entirely—”
There was something unsettlingly familiar about the way he spoke, eyes blazing as he poured out his explanation.
It reminded her of those thesis-enslaved scholars who would sell their very souls for the sake of proof.
“I… I see.”
Cecilia, uncomfortable memories suddenly surfacing, cut him off brusquely.
She had no desire to hear about the Law of Energy Conservation even in another world.
Lien mistook her attitude for anger, his expression falling back into that dejected softness.
“Those aspects are what I find fascinating. But after meeting you in person… I’ve come to want something presumptuous—to remain at your side.”
“…….”
“Because you showed me kindness, someone like me, and became my friend.”
Ah, this stirred a pang of conscience. It had all been nothing but a scheme to manipulate him.
This naive man was laying bare his affection for his first true friend.
“But you must find me detestable for having lied. You’re welcome to curse me, spit on me. I’ll accept it humbly even if you trample me or strike my face.”
“……What?”
As she listened, he seemed to sink lower and lower, practically burrowing into the earth itself.
If she were even slightly moved by his proposal and accepted it, Lien would probably dig his own grave with his bare hands.
‘Then…….’
After a brief but weighty moment of thought, her conclusion crystallized.
‘Just turn a blind eye to it.’
It wasn’t as though he were actually Dilanshae.
A marquis would have clutched his head and collapsed at the mere knowledge that a mage existed.
Whether to trust Lien’s excuses was a separate matter entirely.
There was no reason for the notoriously ruthless Tower Master to perform such groveling before her, and more than anything, that tremor in his voice and the darkness lurking in his gaze could never be mere acting.
“I won’t curse you. I won’t trample you or hit you. And I won’t abandon you either, so lift your head.”
Cecilia brought her hand gently to his cheek, and he obediently raised his face to meet her touch.
The skin around his eyes was flushed and warm.
‘Anyone watching would think I was pleading with a lover at parting.’
She could only speculate, but perhaps it was because she was his only friend. Or perhaps his obsession with a valuable research subject.
Either way, Cecilia decided to interpret it generously—like a lover, or something close enough to that meaning.
“Does that mean… you’re granting me permission to stay by your side from now on?”
“Permission? What’s there to grant? It was I who asked you to act as my partner in the first place.”
Smiling like the benevolent Saint she pretended to be, Cecilia laughed softly.
“So stay by my side as long as you wish.”
Having resolved to embrace him, she chose to think that Plan D was progressing very smoothly, after all—what’s the harm in that?
The man, who had been rigid as stone, suddenly bloomed into a smile as bright as an open flower, mirroring her own.
“Yes. I wish to remain by your side going forward—no, I shall remain by your side.”
As long as you permit it, I shall continue.
He murmured the words softly, then gently brushed his cheek against her open palm.
The sudden tenderness sent her world spinning, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Continue.”
……
“I shall continue.”
He repeated the same words a third time, murmuring them into her hand.
‘Something about this situation has gone completely off the rails.’
Plan D was supposed to be smooth sailing……?
* * *
When she’d first tumbled into this world, it had been early spring—nights so cold they raised goosebumps on her skin. But now green had spilled across the windows, and a season pulsing with life had crept close.
Over the weeks it took for the Garden’s flowers to complete a full cycle, Cecilia had achieved quite a bit.
She’d proven that Plans A, B, and C—schemes she’d racked her brain to devise—were utter garbage; she’d met Charles, who’d nearly become a quantum possibility; and she’d learned Social Dance and etiquette from the male lead (designate) that she’d never use if she ever made it back to the original world.
‘……Nothing I’ve done has actually worked.’
Oh, but she had made the front page of the Newspaper.
The headline screamed: “The Saint’s Miracle! Even a Severed Head Was Restored……”
Never mind that her head had never been severed, nor had she restored anything.
Still, no shortage of people had witnessed that day’s incident. The faithful servants of the divine had been all too eager to spread word of how dearly God cherished the Saint, how magnificent that Miracle had been.
As a result, her fame—despite still being a counterfeit—climbed higher with each passing day.
By now, every newspaper published in Weberdine and the Holy Land had made her the headline of their front pages.
The Relief Festival was drawing near, and the Marquis’s influence certainly played a hand in it.
But whatever the cause, it led nowhere she wanted to go.
<Grand Holy Temple Announces Saint Will Lead Rituals at Upcoming Relief Festival! Will Another Miracle Occur?>
Especially with articles like this one.
Cecilia deliberately looked away from today’s freshly printed Newspaper. The Pope had apparently caused quite the disaster with his talk of rituals, rituals, and more rituals.
Did the newspapers know?
That their idol, the darling of the Holy Temple, was completely screwed.
Since the day of the accident, in the deep hours of night after Melanie withdrew and left her alone in her chamber, she had repeatedly attempted to turn her two hands into sources of light.
Yet she’d never found the power button. She hadn’t learned how to activate her Holy Power.
‘Should I ask Melanie to smack my head with a Glass Cup?’
She’d reached the point of considering even that last resort.
Knock, knock.
At the sound of the knock, Melanie’s voice drifted from beyond the door.
“Miss? May I enter?”
“Yeah, come in.”
Melanie appeared with perfect timing, carrying a silver tray upon which sat a letter and a Vase filled with water.
“Would you smash my head in with that Vase for me?”
“I must refuse.”
Melanie set the Vase down on the table by the sunny window, her refusal calm and matter-of-fact.
She’d clearly seen it as another instance of the strange behavior Cecilia had displayed when attempting Plan C.
“I was joking.”
“Half-joking, I’d say.”
“It wasn’t even that much.”
Maybe forty-five percent?
“Please exercise some restraint during such a busy season, Miss.”
Cecilia turned her gaze toward the window below, trying to dodge Melanie’s exasperated sigh.
Beyond the green, at a distance that made them look ant-sized, people and horses and carriages milled about near the front gate in a frenzy of motion.
“The Relief Festival sure is drawing a crowd. There are even more people than this morning.”
This morning, Cecilia had been forcibly roused in the unusually chaotic Mansion, only to learn belatedly the identity of the throng of guests who’d descended upon her like a pack of dogs.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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