The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master - Chapter 41

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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 41
Examining the names inscribed on the invitation envelope, most belonged to the Emperor’s faction.
‘They want to gawk at me like a zoo monkey.’
Perhaps they meant to insult the Temple’s honor or break her spirit.
‘Well, I’m not going anyway.’
Cecilia flipped through the invitations with indifference.
She had no desire to throw herself into the middle of a power struggle, and besides, she never knew when another threat might emerge—she needed to preserve her strength.
But when she reached almost the last one, her hand froze.
It was an envelope with a familiar style of decoration: a black background bordered in gold.
‘Surely not.’
Cecilia tore open the invitation and checked the sender.
It was indeed from the Imperial Family, but the sender was not the Emperor.
The one extending the invitation was Regina Hill Lishatria.
The sole princess of the Lishatria Empire.
Cecilia recalled the information about the Imperial Family she had gathered before departing the Monastery.
The Emperor had two children: a princess and a prince.
The princess was said to be as sharp and remarkable as the current Emperor, but she had always suffered from poor health.
Because of this, most speculation suggested that the next Succession Selection would fall to the prince, not the princess.
‘Then why does she want to see me?’
They had no connection, and besides, she would see her at the banquet soon enough—there was no reason for the princess to invite her privately. Cecilia couldn’t begin to guess her intentions.
‘I wish Lien were here.’
Setting aside the question of trust, his counsel and insight would prove quite useful.
But she quickly shook off the thought.
‘I’ll just ask the steward.’
Having decided, Cecilia left her room with the invitation in hand.
For some reason, the Manor seemed quieter than usual. She had nearly reached the bottom of the main staircase when—
She spotted a figure standing motionless near the Manor’s entrance.
A suspicious man in a dark, mottled robe, allowed past the knights without hindrance—his identity was easy enough to guess.
Cecilia approached the still figure slowly.
“Lien? You’ve just returned?”
“I’m back, Cecilia.”
“Where in the world have you been——”
—doing all this time that she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. That was what she meant to press, but—
Cecilia stopped. His face, visible beneath the robe, was alarmingly pale.
Seeing the cold sweat clinging to his skin, her heart sank.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Cecilia rushed forward and pushed back his hood. In the light, his cheeks, eyes, and neck were covered in raw, unhealed red scratches.
“What happened to you? Were you fighting? Don’t tell me someone beat you?”
Alarmed, she fumbled to examine his cheekbones, and he curved his mouth in a weak, pained smile.
“……You’re laughing right now?”
“Because I’m happy. That you worry about me, that you touch me without hesitation.”
It makes me so, so happy.
Lien murmured softly, pressing his cheek into her palm.
It was a harmless, childlike gesture—but Cecilia flinched and drew her hand back. His skin temperature was unnaturally cold. Like a corpse.
Yet he seemed to accept her withdrawal not as refusal but as something else, and he corrected himself darkly.
“I misspoke. It’s just—your hand is warm, that’s all. That’s the only reason——”
Watching him attend to her feelings even in pain, something sharp and thorny lodged in her chest, aching with each beat.
Growing unsettled, Cecilia withdrew her hand entirely.
Lien, deprived of the heat source that would not comfort him anyway, looked as sorrowful as a dog rejected by its master.
Cecilia clenched her hand into a fist, the soft sensation still lingering. She swallowed the sigh rising in her throat and let her troubled gaze fall to the floor.
“…….”
“…….”
The awkward silence did not stretch long. He called her name in a strangled, muffled voice.
“Cecilia.”
“……Yes?”
“Have I done something wrong to you?”
She had tried to hide her suspicion of him, being as cautious as she could. Instead, this very guardedness had made him sense a strange distance, an unease between them.
Unable to even steady himself, he grasped the hem of her sleeve desperately.
“No, I’m sure I’ve done something stupid again.”
“…….”
“Just say the word, and I’ll fix whatever’s wrong. So please……!”
At his unstable appearance, she opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again without a sound.
What could she say? That she suspected him of being the culprit trying to kill her? That because of it, she couldn’t trust even the emotions he showed? That despite all this, her mind kept circling back to him, wanting to reach out, turning everything to mud?
None of it could be spoken aloud.
Cecilia made a deliberate effort to steer the conversation elsewhere, keeping her tone even.
“You haven’t done anything wrong. Come on, we shouldn’t stay here like this. Let’s get you to your room.”
He looked ready to collapse at any moment. Urgent now, she didn’t call for knights or attendants—instead, she supported Lien herself, taking his weight.
She guided him, noticeably slower than usual, toward the guest chamber that had been assigned to him.
She sat him on a bed that had never been used before, still somewhat cold from disuse.
Before he could lie down, she reached to help remove his robe, but he shook his head—an expression far more despondent than before.
“Thank you for the help. A rest should see me right again. You needn’t trouble yourself with any fuss.”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
He couldn’t even undress himself, and yet he spoke like this.
His condition was more serious than she’d realized.
His clenched lips had gone pale, and his broad shoulders trembled like aspen leaves in wind. His chest rose and fell in rough, uneven breaths.
‘Should I call Miguel?’
His remarkable Divine Power might restore Lien’s condition quickly.
‘No—Divine Power might be harmful to a mage’s body.’
The forces were fundamentally different; they wouldn’t harmonize and might cause complications instead. Even if they did merge safely, in his current state, he’d be exposed to Miguel immediately.
‘And then I couldn’t keep him near anymore.’
‘……This is ridiculous.’
She didn’t trust him, was pushing him away, and yet she worried over something like this.
She felt disgusted at her own contradiction. Cecilia, who’d been smiling bitterly, quickly shook off her spiraling thoughts.
For now, she decided to at least call a physician.
“Just hold on a moment. I’ll fetch a doctor.”
Cecilia turned to leave urgently. But before she could take a single step, her sleeve was caught gently.
“It’s truly fine. It’s nothing serious—I can recover on my own.”
“Nothing serious? Look in a mirror and say that!”
Without knowing why, anger surged up and burst from her voice.
She hadn’t liked the way his spirit seemed to waver the moment he’d dodged the question, and she disliked his pretense of composure when his body clearly couldn’t hold itself steady.
No—the real source of her displeasure was something else entirely.
Why was he suspicious? Why must she suspect him? And why did it gnaw at her so constantly?
When Cecilia’s brow furrowed darkly, he stammered like a child caught in a grave mistake, then finally confessed.
“A physician, a healing mage, a priest—none of them will be able to restore me.”
“Why? Has something truly serious happened? You can’t be healed?”
“No, that’s not it…… Sometimes when I overuse magic, I fall ill like this. Until my magical power returns, no treatment will help.”
If even a Tower Master could be laid low this way, what spell had he needed to cast, and why?
The question rose to her throat, but she swallowed it.
‘What good would interrogating a sick man do.’
Cecilia sighed deeply and trudged toward the door. Rather than leave in a fury, she called an attendant who was nearby.
For him, whose lips were trembling, she had them light the hearth despite the season, and asked them to bring warm water and pain medicine.
After giving him the medicine, she clumsily helped him out of his robe and carefully tucked the thick blankets up to his chin.
“Rest now.”
Yet despite her commanding plea, Lien couldn’t close his eyes—his gaze followed her movements persistently.
Afraid she’d leave his side. Afraid she’d abandon him.
He couldn’t hide his anxiety. Finally, Cecilia dragged a chair to his bedside and sat down heavily.
“I’m not going anywhere, so rest. Please.”
“……Yes.”
Only then did his eyelids close gently. He must have been pushing himself hard; he fell asleep at once, like losing consciousness.
Cecilia carefully wiped the cold sweat from his brow with a cloth dampened in warm water.
‘What happened to him.’
What was he doing out there? What was his true identity? Could this injury be related to his work somehow?
The unexplained absence, the prolonged silence, his precarious state now—it was all deeply suspicious. And yet, if he seemed pitiful rather than sinister to her… what was she supposed to do?
She gazed down at the sleeping Lien, continuing to ask questions without answers.
The flickering crimson light of the hearth dancing across his face. In that sunset glow, he looked lonely—like someone abandoned to face the world alone. Or perhaps only pitiable.
His hair clinging to his sweat-soaked brow, the bridge of his nose creased with pain, the faint whimper caught in his throat, and…….
“……Don’t abandon me.”
A plea so faint it seemed to fade away, slipping from his parched lips.
Cecilia, who’d been watching with a troubled heart, finally felt her eyes distort.
“……What exactly do you want from me?”
He muttered listlessly, but still no answer came back.

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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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