The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master - Chapter 30

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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 30
The Grand Temple was vast enough that the priests’ quarters and dining hall lay some distance apart. One might have grown weary of making the trip multiple times a day to fetch the Saintess’s meals, yet the child’s footsteps never faltered—she moved as lightly as if walking on clouds.
Today was no exception. Sena left the dining hall carrying a tray laden with the Saintess’s lunch, humming a wordless tune to herself as she quickened her pace.
She imagined the Saintess saying “Thank you” without hesitation, offering that soft voice and gentle smile, and couldn’t help but let a grin slip across her face.
In truth, whenever Sena thought of the Saintess, joy bloomed in her chest. Her heart felt as full as if she’d eaten her fill, and sorrow or worry simply dissolved away.
By the Pope’s own words, she had become a “fan” of the Saintess back when she was even younger than she was now.
Sena recalled vividly that miraculous moment when she first met the Saintess.
That summer, her flood-prone village suffered yet another disaster—torrential waters ravaged the land. Meager belongings were submerged, and more and more days passed without even thin cornmeal porridge to eat.
The child’s thin body grew skeletal as a waterlogged plant’s stem. Her hunger gnawed until it ached, and strange rashes began to spread across her skin.
It was a life closer to suffering and misery than to comfort and peace.
“The Lord bestows only as much pain as one can bear. When you endure it and overcome it, you become someone so strong that no one can ever harm you.”
On nights when the child lay sobbing with sorrow, her mother would speak these words with lips cracked and thin, bleeding at the edges.
But was that truly so? Her patience was now so small it could be hidden in the palm of her hand. If she could not bear any more, would the endless hunger and pain finally vanish?
All a helpless child could do was pray to God in the old temple at the village’s edge.
And when her patience had dwindled to the size of a single corn kernel, God truly did grant a miracle. The dignitaries of the Grand Temple came to visit the village.
They distributed warm blankets and shared porridge with meat. Yet what delighted the child more than this unexpected gift was the sight of the Saintess in the distance.
The Saintess from the tales bore an uncanny resemblance to the goddess painted on the faded walls of the old temple. The child could not look away, staring blankly for a long while—only snapping to attention at the savory smell of food.
She had to obtain a portion for her mother, who lay too ill to move, before the food ran out. Pushing through the crowded throng, the child squeezed forward.
But despite her efforts, disappointment awaited her once more.
“Many people are trying to get multiple servings, I’m afraid. I can only give one portion per person—forgive me.”
The woman ladling out the porridge with a broad, round spoon spoke with clear distress.
“Ah…”
The child bit her lip, unable to hide her dismay.
If only she’d known—she wouldn’t have eaten her own share and could have brought it to her mother instead. Self-loathing washed over her for filling her own belly so greedily. Thinking of her hungry mother, she felt tears threatening to spill.
Then, a voice like soft feathers descended upon her—warm and tender. The Saintess had drawn near without a sound.
“Give my portion to this child.”
“B-but…”
The child couldn’t bring herself to accept such kindness, fearing the Saintess might go hungry because of her.
As the child hesitated, the Saintess grasped her grimy hand without pause and placed the food directly into it.
“I won’t die from missing one meal. Take it.”
The child finally raised her gaze from the ground. The young Saintess, whose head barely reached the adults’ chests, her fine pale down still visible on her skin, stood with the composed bearing of someone far older.
“Go carefully now, and don’t let anyone take it from you.”
When those sun-bright eyes curved into a smile, a star shot straight into the child’s heart.
From that moment on, the Saintess became someone as noble and extraordinary to the child as God himself.
Whenever Sena thought of the Saintess, even when hunger gnawed at her belly or fear of darkness crept in, a star in her heart would glimmer and shine. She was no longer afraid or weary.
In the years that followed—when a great flood swept away half the village, when plague ravaged the land, when she had to bid her mother farewell—she grieved deeply, so much that the light of hope in her chest nearly flickered out.
Yet the Lord, as always, showed mercy before her patience vanished entirely, and at last she was able to reunite with her star.
And now, she could serve that star from close beside her!
Days that had been nothing but dreadful were now overflowing with joy. So Sena wished, with all her heart, that her star felt the same joy she did.
‘But…’
Sena looked down at the plate in her hands with dismay. As always, it held nothing but plain green vegetables—certain to bring the Saintess disappointment rather than delight.
‘There were such pretty flowers blooming in the garden—maybe if I decorated it with them, it would brighten her mood a little!’
Sena had just turned to head that way when—
“There you are!”
“Lili?”
At the end of the corridor, a figure in a veil came running swiftly—it was Lili, not Liri as Sena usually called her.
“Are you heading to the Saintess?”
“Yes, it’s time for her meal.”
“I see.”
Lili’s breathing seemed a touch ragged, as if she were in a hurry.
Between the fluttering folds of the veil, violet eyes glimmered with an unusual intensity.
‘Wait? Lili’s eyes were a cherry-red color, weren’t they?’
Had Sena misread? She blinked uncertainly—and then Lili thrust a carefully folded note into her hands.
“I need to ask you something—can you deliver this to the Saintess along with her meal?”
“A note? What for?”
“I ran into the Saintess’s friend by chance earlier, and she asked me to pass it along.”
“A friend? Who?”
“A man in robes. Would you deliver it to the Saintess for me?”
Sena let out a small gasp of recognition. When she’d gone on an errand to the village before, hadn’t there been a strange man in robes standing beside the Saintess? That must surely be her friend.
But one question remained unanswered.
“Mari, you could just deliver it yourself, couldn’t you?”
“……I have to go wait for someone.”
Was she meeting a friend? But surely I was her only friend here?
“Lili, you…….”
Sena’s eyes narrowed.
“You’ve been acting strange lately! You’re hiding something from me!”
The veil she hadn’t normally worn until now, the way she stumbled over her words whenever the Saintess was near—everything about her seemed off.
“I-I’m just nervous meeting the Saintess in person, that’s all.”
When Sena pressed closer, demanding answers, Lili waved her off with excuses. And it was, in fact, a perfectly reasonable explanation that Sena was willing to accept.
‘I suppose that makes sense.’
She’d hidden behind the Pope at first herself, too shy to face him directly.
“So I’m going to ask you for a favor.”
“Well, but…….”
Passing along a meal with a note wasn’t difficult. But the Archbishop had warned her repeatedly when entrusting her with this task.
There were certainly people who would try to use her as a conduit to the Saintess. So she was to never, under any circumstances, deliver personal gifts or letters.
And yet the Saintess had looked quite happy standing beside her friend in the village. So perhaps this note would bring her more joy than flowers from the garden.
In the end, Sena took the note and nodded vigorously.
“Sure! Leave it to me!”
* * *
Cecilia didn’t much believe in the “power of words” or the “power of positive thinking”—all that nonsense about desires coming true if you speak them aloud or think positively enough.
Yet in this other world, even baseless claims seemed to hold truth.
She’d sung about wanting to rest, about being tired, and her entire afternoon schedule had been canceled. And when she’d thought of that person, astonishingly, an unexpected gift had arrived.
“The Archbishop did tell me not to grant requests from those trying to approach the Saintess……. But I thought this one was something I should deliver.”
What Sena brought back with the tray was a small scrap of paper, torn roughly from the corner of a book.
Just a single line—not even signed.
“The Saintess’s friend asked me to pass it along.”
But the moment Sena added that quiet detail, deduction became unnecessary.
The only friend Sena knew—the only friend she’d made in this other world—was one person.
‘Lien.’
The instant Cecilia realized who the note was from, she bolted from the room.
* * *
<I will be waiting beneath the ancient tree.>
That was all—just one line. Yet thinking of the person behind those deliberately pressed characters, written with anticipation, made her body move of its own accord.
Clutching the crumpled scrap of paper, she climbed the hill quickly.
Her long robes caught around her legs, and her disheveled hair kept falling across her vision.
She couldn’t bear the anxiety that leaked through her like water, so she had no choice but to quicken her pace further.
Her diaphragm rose and fell; lukewarm air filled her lungs and emptied again in a relentless rhythm.
By the time her breath finally found its place, she had reached the hilltop.
Beneath the ancient sacred tree—the oldest in the temple—a man with beautiful features stood like a painting come to life.

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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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