The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master - Chapter 65

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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 65
When Cecilia had left the Greenhouse, twilight was just deepening into night. Winter was drawing closer than she’d realized. The sun had slipped below the horizon entirely.
As darkness fell, the temperature seemed to plummet further. Or perhaps the turbulent emotions that had flooded through her had simply receded, and only now were her senses returning to their proper state.
The moment Cecilia felt the delayed chill and drew her shoulders inward, a large Robe enveloped her frame.
Without hesitation—despite being outside—Lien had shed his own Robe and draped it over her.
She didn’t need to bury her face in it to catch his scent. It clung to the fabric’s weave, carrying his warmth. It felt as though she were being held by him.
Comfort bloomed through her, and her rigid body relaxed of its own accord.
‘This is ridiculous.’
Not even an hour ago, he’d been the source of her tension and fury.
She was adapting with remarkable speed.
With a bitter smile, Cecilia looked up quietly at the man standing before her in merely a shirt.
His eyes were flushed red, and his split lip was crusted with blood. Yet despite looking such a disaster, he smiled as though nothing in the world could please him more—she couldn’t fathom why.
What on earth was she to do with this man?
He carried Dilan Che’s blood within him—a liar, someone whose depths she could never plumb, a sinuous and unknowable creature.
And yet, his love for her was undeniable. It was something she could not hate, no matter how she tried.
‘Can I forgive his deceptions?’
Cecilia gripped the flower stem in her hand more tightly, asking herself the question.
In truth, she might have already forgiven him to some degree—perhaps even before the petals had ceased their fall.
The white-hot fury that had consumed her had evaporated so hollow and swiftly, and now, seeing him exposed and defenseless against the biting wind, she found herself worried for him. That was telling enough.
Even as she inwardly cursed herself for being an utter fool, Cecilia found that all she could manage was a halfhearted threat.
“If you lie to me even once more, we’re finished.”
“Yes, yes!”
His wet eyelids trembled slightly as he nodded rapidly in agreement.
Then, as though something had occurred to him, he hesitated before adding more.
“It’s not exactly lying, it’s more… withholding…?”
“What else are you hiding from me?”
“Well, that is…”
He bit his lip, though it clearly caused him pain. As she watched fresh blood bead along the wound with displeasure, he took a sharp breath and suddenly burst forth with his confession.
“The truth is, I’m actually a g-genuinely disagreeable person!”
It was hardly appropriate to say in the middle of the Imperial Palace, but it was also entirely unsurprising.
‘How sudden. Self-reflection now of all times?’
Sensing her lukewarm response, he continued his confession in an even more trembling voice.
“A-and a gloomy one at that.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. I suspect it’s far darker than what you imagine…”
‘Darker than this?’
Cecilia, who had been responding casually, pressed her lips shut in surprise.
‘How could he possibly be more gloomy than this?’
Her meager imagination could not conjure such a picture.
Reading her hesitation, Lien continued his appeal with considerable desperation.
“I cannot tell you everything right now, but I promise I will tell you all of it someday. Could you wait just a little longer?”
She didn’t need the flowers to understand. His pleading—faint and fervent—rang entirely true.
After all the suffering his lies had caused her, it was foolish to yield now. She knew that.
And yet…
Cecilia chose to be that fool anyway.
“All right.”
After all, the fact that he was willing to set himself against his own house for her sake was real.
Perhaps more real than life itself to him.
But there was one remaining matter she could not retreat from, could not ignore.
“But in exchange, you have to be honest about my situation. And the real reason you came to Werberdin.”
* * *
The Crown Prince Investiture Ceremony proceeded with remarkable swiftness, as though it had been anticipated all along, unfolding in an atmosphere that was austere despite its simplicity.
Cecilia, one of the sparse attendees, clapped her hands readily.
Not because she had any wish to see the Crown Princess achieve her aims, but because the lengthy Monastery schedule had finally, mercifully ended.
When the ceremony drew toward its conclusion, Cecilia quietly began edging backward. She had already received her permission, and had witnessed the investiture at the Emperor’s behest. Her plan was a clean escape.
Yet behind her, the Emperor’s attendant stood waiting with perfect stillness.
“His Majesty requests your presence.”
“…Yes.”
Cecilia’s dreams of escape came to nothing as she was dragged reluctantly before the Emperor.
“I pay my respects to His Majesty.”
“Thank you for keeping your promise. Now that the investiture is complete, you’re planning to head straight back to Werberdin?”
“Yes, I’ve been away from my post for some time, so I intend to return promptly.”
“It’s a pity—your company has kept me from growing bored. Ah, and congratulations on becoming a Saint. It must have been tiresome for you, but I’m glad we had the chance to meet.”
“Ah… yes.”
Cecilia nodded with obvious reluctance.
It didn’t seem they’d ever shared such a pleasant rapport, yet the Emperor’s gaze held an unmistakable warmth as he regarded her.
She decided it was simply the Emperor’s good mood on his son’s happy day.
“I ask for your continued support.”
‘I’m never coming back to the Monastery. What could he possibly be asking of me?’
Even as Cecilia grasped the hand he extended, she could not hide her bewilderment. And her confusion was soon answered.
In a decidedly unfavorable way.
At last, the day came to depart for Werberdin.
A strikingly ornate carriage arrived in front of the Town House early that morning—a purple conveyance with wheels the height of a man, draped in gilded ornaments, from which emerged none other than Crown Princess Regina.
“… What?”
‘Am I dreaming?’
Startled, Cecilia found herself lapsing into casual speech without thinking.
Lien, who had been dogging her steps since morning, leaned in close and whispered quietly.
“It’s the Crown Princess.”
‘As if I didn’t know that.’
With both sides rendered speechless, it was Miguel—stationed at Cecilia’s back just as Lien was—who stepped forward to intervene.
Positioning himself between Cecilia and the Crown Princess, he spoke with crisp formality.
“May I inquire your business with the Saint?”
“And if there is?”
The Crown Princess paid no mind to the Holy Knight’s cutting edge and addressed Cecilia directly.
“Saint, you’re departing for Werberdin today, correct?”
“As you can see, I was just about to leave…”
“What fortunate timing. The reason I’ve come is nothing grand—I’d like to travel with you. That’s acceptable, isn’t it?”
“… Pardon?”
She was already exhausted dealing with Lien’s recent clinginess and Miguel’s stern rebukes to keep his distance from her. This was something else entirely.
“I have business at the Holy See as well.”
“Business?”
“To become a ‘true’ successor, there’s one final procedure—and you of all people know this best, don’t you, Saint?”
‘… Right.’
How could she not? She’d come all the way to the Monastery for approval and had only just finished her own grueling ordeal.
Just as Cecilia had needed the Emperor’s approval, the Crown Princess—despite having undergone the investiture ceremony—required the Pope’s blessing to become a true Crown Prince.
But this was an exceptionally rare case where the Saint herself had come to the Monastery in person; typically, letters or a representative of the Archbishop’s rank would convey the approval and blessing.
‘But she’s determined to go herself?’
As Cecilia’s perplexity deepened, the Crown Princess withdrew a letter from her pocket and thrust it toward her without preamble.
On plain white paper unmarked by any design, the neat handwriting was immediately familiar.
‘It’s from His Holiness.’
Unlike the letters sent to her, this one read with bureaucratic coldness—and when condensed to its essence, it said:
‘Since you’ve all given the Saint a hard time, you should experience it yourself. Come down here directly.’
Cecilia’s hand trembled as she released the letter, recalling the Pope’s gentle face. This was surely his form of retaliation against her, but…
‘This is not the kind of revenge I appreciate.’
Cecilia’s shoulders sagged helplessly as she found herself burdened with an additional passenger for her journey home.
* * *
With the Crown Princess and her imperial guards added to an already overflowing retinue, the party took on the appearance of a great army marching into enemy territory.
The oppressive spectacle threatened to overwhelm her senses, yet unfortunately that was not the only problem.
For reasons she couldn’t fathom, those surrounding her on both sides—and even ahead—began to quarrel among themselves.
“Saint, the carriage is quite spacious. Would you like to ride with me for a while? I can keep you company.”
“That won’t be necessary, Your Highness. I am sufficient company for Cecilia.”
“But I was asking the Saint, not you. And does the Saint really say you alone are sufficient? That seems unlikely.”
“… Then perhaps there are no other options.”
“What, so you’re saying you’d eliminate that option—me? Saint, did you hear what this man just said? Honestly, I can’t stand brooding types like him.”
“Wait. Neither of you may board the same carriage as the Saint. I cannot allow the Saint to be exhausted.”
With Miguel now joining in, the argument devolved into chaos. Caught in the middle, Cecilia gazed blankly up at the sky.
‘… I don’t care anymore. I just wish you’d all disappear.’

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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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