The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master - Chapter 22

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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 22
In truth, she’d spotted the man’s lie the moment she noticed his worn shoes.
If he’d truly separated from his attendant, that meant he was nobility—yet for someone of such elevated station, supposedly too frail to walk properly on his own, his footwear was far too scuffed and battered. It didn’t add up.
‘So he must have come with some scheme in mind.’
Judging by Lien’s unusual reaction and the way the man had stepped forward to support him, she could easily deduce that he was either Lien’s subordinate or colleague.
But there was no point in pressing for details.
Sometimes it was wiser to play the role of someone oblivious.
‘If he’s showing himself so openly, it must be urgent business.’
The conversation seemed likely to stretch on. With that thought, Cecilia turned her feet toward the shade and walked away with measured steps.
* * *
The moment Cecilia’s gaze fell away, Lien dropped the man he’d been supporting without ceremony.
With a pathetic thud, the man crumpled to the ground, releasing a thin groan.
“Ugh, I fear something may actually be broken, my lord…….”
“Is that so? You’re after acquiring a genuine chronic illness, then?”
“Hardly, sir.”
He sprang to his feet as though he’d never fallen at all.
Hiltein dusted off his disheveled clothes, then glanced cautiously at his superior.
He knew well enough what his lord disliked.
Being bothered, and disobeying orders.
And Hiltein was doing both—following despite being told not to come.
As expected, the displeasure was written across his superior’s face, his presence growing rougher and heavier.
“……Hiltein.”
“Sir.”
“Did I ever permit you to pursue me all the way here?”
The affected stammering, the incomprehensible black robe, even the enormous doll tucked under one arm—all of it was absurdly ridiculous.
Yet meeting those quiet violet eyes, a chill crawled down his spine.
Hiltein instinctively took a step back, bowing his head.
“My apologies.”
Back when he’d stood before the Saint and his superior with such brazen composure, his courage had seemed boundless. But here and now—even as it shriveled pathetically—he remained, for all intents, the Tower Master’s most trusted aide, laden with dark rumors.
Hiltein pressed on despite the sensation of throttling.
“If you find my pursuit distasteful, you need only return to the Mage Tower.”
“…….”
“Or rather—I humbly ask that you do return, sir. Matters requiring the Tower Master’s approval have accumulated like mountains.”
Had his colleagues witnessed such audacity, they would have gasped that overwork had finally driven him mad.
But as things stood, whether he died by his superior’s hand or beneath the weight of bureaucracy, an early grave seemed certain either way.
So even if he fell dead on this very street, he had to speak his mind.
Yet in the face of such insubordination, his superior merely frowned with annoyance.
“Well, by all means—perhaps you should become Tower Master instead.”
“Shall I submit my resignation now, sir?”
Hiltein drew out the letter of resignation he always carried on his person—and in that same instant, it burned away to ash.
“……Life.”
Hiltein’s shoulders slumped as his last hope vanished.
His indifferent superior paid him no mind, his gaze drifting elsewhere instead.
In a direction much like the one from which they’d come.
If his posture seemed slightly anxious, surely that was mere imagination.
‘It couldn’t be.’
Hiltein swept away the thought and quickly moved to his main point.
“I came despite my rudeness because there is urgent news to relay.”
“……Urgent news?”
“Yes. Duke Dilan She has discovered that you are in Weberdine.”
Dilan She.
At those three words, an irritated sigh burst from his superior’s lips.
Lien dragged his hand roughly across his face, then spoke with sharp irritation.
“Then the conversation becomes simple. Tell him I’ll handle things here, and to keep his nose out of it.”
And to refrain from any foolish meddling.
The added words carried a menace far colder than before.
Hiltein, grown somewhat paler, nodded mutely.
And as his superior’s mood sank to depths unknown, there was, unfortunately, one more piece of bad news remaining.
“And there is another person who has learned of your whereabouts, sir.”
“……So it would seem.”
Lien’s brow furrowed sharply, and he cast his gaze behind Hiltein’s back.
“Come out.”
In truth, he’d been sensing a nagging presence ever since he and Cecilia began wandering through the festival.
The moment Lien spoke in that glacial tone, a small shadow emerged from around the corner.
“Hehe, caught.”
It was a boy with the frame of a five-year-old.
Walking with the stiff, unnatural gait of a puppet suspended by strings, the child’s cheeks and forehead bore dark Magic Circles visible only to mages.
“Hello, Lien. How have you been?”
The boy’s unfocused eyes widened and he grinned lopsidedly.
“I told you to stop that magic. It makes my skin crawl.”
“What else can I do? You left me bound tight in the Mage Tower, so I can’t come in person. Besides, this spell doesn’t harm the host’s body at all.”
The boy shrugged in an exaggerated manner.
“But what’s with that ridiculous way of speaking? I’ve heard whispers that you’re losing it lately, but I never thought it would actually be true!”
Lien glanced silently at Hiltein beside him.
Hiltein gave a small start and hastily moved closer to the boy.
“If I hadn’t seen it myself today, I’d never have believed it! You blushing and smiling! I almost screamed—it was that disturbing!”
…………
“So what game are we playing? Don’t tell me you’ve finally discovered the beauty of women?”
“Stop talking nonsense.”
“Good news, at least—though the fact that your target is the Saint is rather poor taste, if you ask me…”
“Asilien Chetwind.”
The boy, who’d been chattering away, shut his mouth with a snap.
Lien’s face, which had worn only exhaustion and disdain, had frozen into something terrible.
“Stop making that face! Seriously, it’s frightening!”
The terrified boy—or rather, ‘Asilien’—yelped loudly.
“I’m even lending you my name, playing Deputy Tower Master for you, and this is how you treat me?”
Asilien whined to Hiltein about how heartless Lien was, how utterly devoid of mercy.
But three syllables, delivered with ominous weight, cut short his complaints.
“Get to the point.”
“If you’d just speak more kindly, your words wouldn’t sting so much… Ah, fine, let me report!”
…………
“Your men and I are still watching that place you mentioned, but there’s nothing unusual. Access itself is difficult, as expected.”
Lien showed no particular disappointment, as if he’d already anticipated the result.
The boy shook his head gently and continued with a faint sigh.
“So when are you coming back? Playing you for once or twice is one thing, but the old fools in the Mage Tower have already caught on.”
“…Soon.”
Lien’s gaze lingered on the doll he held in his hand.
He thought of the woman waiting for him in a place not far from here.
The one who had accepted him as a friend, not a gardener. The one who had tolerated him, the head of all mages.
Unlike ‘that person’—who had scorned him, told him to disappear, and wouldn’t spare him a single glance—this woman had reached out her hand, smiled, and given him gifts.
But he knew well that it was only because she believed him to be ‘Asilien Chetwind.’
‘If she ever learns the truth…’
So before this brief reprieve ended, he had to achieve his original purpose.
Even if it meant deceiving her to the end and walking back to where he belonged with his own feet.
“Is that all the report?”
“Oh, I’ve got one piece of personal advice left—if you want to make a woman happy, you shouldn’t bundle everything up so tight. You need to bare yourself generously, if you know what I mean—”
Before the endless drivel could finish, Lien flicked his hand through the air.
The Magic Circle inscribed on the boy vanished without a trace.
The child blinked once, and his unfocused eyes cleared.
Confused about why he was standing alone in the middle of the street, he quickly dashed into the crowd.
Hiltein, who had been watching the boy’s small back with quiet eyes as he rejoined his friends, suddenly spoke.
“The item you commissioned has been completed, sir.”
Perhaps pleased by the declaration of return, Hiltein’s face brightened considerably as he withdrew a palm-sized box from his breast and offered it.
Lien took the box and lifted the lid with a soft click.
Inside lay a necklace with an amber gemstone that bore an uncanny resemblance to someone’s iris.
“As you commanded, I’ve minimized all magical traces. Even the Pope would likely not detect it.”
This very task had been one of the reasons Hiltein had fallen into his current weakened state.
Satisfied it seemed, Lien drew out only the necklace and slipped it into his pocket.
“Then I’ll await you in the Holy Capital.”
Only after Hiltein had quietly withdrawn did Lien check his watch.
More time had slipped away than expected.
He quickened his pace, urgency finally breaking through.
“Isn’t the Saint supposed to be over there?”
“Really? Come on, let’s go!”
Saint—those two words caught his ear, and his expression hardened like stone.
A soft wind swept past, and even his shadow had vanished in its wake.

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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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