The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master - Chapter 78

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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 78
After the coronation was complete, it fell to the Pope to bestow a blessing upon the Crown Princess.
“To the new leader who shall carry the blood of the Imperial House forward, I shall offer my blessing in the stead of God. Please, come forth.”
Regina approached the Pope dressed in white ceremonial robes, her vivid red hair all the more striking against the colorless fabric.
As Regina knelt before the Pope, he dipped his fingers in holy water and marked her forehead with a sign.
With a brief blessing spoken, the Pope turned to Cecilia.
“The Holy Maiden—bring the dagger here.”
Her feet moved at his command, independent of her will.
Cecilia withdrew the short dagger from its sheath and approached them with deliberate steps.
If she placed the blade in the Crown Princess’s hands and the Holy Maiden fell to it, neither Regina nor the Imperial House could escape blame.
‘An excellent opportunity for the Temple to dominate the Imperial House.’
Cecilia took her position before Regina as the Pope had commanded.
She stood where the Crown Princess’s figure obscured her from the onlooking crowd.
“Holy Maiden.”
Regina seemed delighted by this unusual ceremony, calling her name softly with a faint smile.
Cecilia returned the bitter smile and placed the dagger’s hilt into Regina’s hand.
“It will be over soon.”
“What?”
And holding Regina’s hand firmly in place, she drove the blade into her own heart.
Thud!
At the sickening sound, everything froze.
The pristine white ceremonial robe bloomed scarlet, and blood spilled from her lips in a crimson torrent.
Below the platform, the Imperial Guard and the Holy Knights scrambled upward in chaos, while the crowd erupted in shrieks and cries.
Staring at the pandemonium that erupted in an instant, laughter bubbled up unbidden.
Absurd. Utterly, unbearably absurd.
The scene felt like a frame from some insufferably tedious film.
Cecilia, her body rigid and trembling, looked down at Regina.
‘I’m sorry.’
Moving her blood-soaked lips silently, she watched violent confusion bloom across Regina’s face.
She wanted to offer more apologies, but time—regrettably—was not generous with her.
Cecilia stumbled toward the Pope. The playwright of this grotesque farce was watching the climax unfold with keen interest.
‘As the lead, I cannot disappoint.’
Her hands trembled violently with pain far worse than she had braced for. It felt as though she might lose consciousness at any moment.
But she could not.
She had finally finished this wretched command.
The play was over—only payment remained to be collected.
Clenching her teeth until they threatened to shatter, Cecilia withdrew the blade from her chest and plunged it into the Pope’s neck.
It was possible only because the Pope firmly believed she could never harm him.
“How… is this… possible?”
“Impossible…!”
Blood fountained from the Pope’s neck. Clutching his throat, he stared in disbelief at the blood flowing wetly through his fingers and at her in turn.
‘You die too, you bastard.’
No voice came anymore—only her lips moved soundlessly.
That was the end. Cecilia, having expended every reserve of strength, collapsed to the floor.
The Holy Knights, a moment too late, surrounded the Pope and howled incoherently, their Divine Power pouring out in desperate waves.
By the look of things, if she was unlucky, even the Pope might survive.
If that happened, it would be tiresome, nothing more. In any case, she would be dead by then. What good would anger do her?
Besides, by striking down the Pope directly, she had already rendered his plans worthless.
The Holy Maiden in her madness had thrown herself upon the blade—even if the Crown Princess spoke truth, who would believe her? With hundreds of witnesses present, both aggressor and victim would become the Temple’s alone.
‘Fitting.’
Cecilia, sprawled on the cold floor, exhaled ragged breaths.
The mad woman who had stabbed the Pope was no longer a saint the clergy needed to tend.
No priest should lift a hand to save her.
Yet the first to reach her was the Archbishop who had been standing on the platform to assist with the ceremony.
“What… what is the meaning of this! Did I not say I would go to God first?!”
His words were as listless as ever, yet laughter would not come. His hands were shaking terribly.
Kiar poured his Divine Power into her. Suddenly, the unbearable agony ceased as though it had never been.
But the wounds were severe enough to bring on shock, the blood loss already substantial. Her heartbeat was slowing, methodically, moment by moment.
“Why, why would you do something so foolish…!”
He wanted to tell her—why didn’t you go to the Pope, why did you suspect him for being gloomy, why did you apologize to him—but the words would not come.
Even parting her lips and moving her voice felt like too much effort. All she wanted was to sleep.
But…….
“Cecilia!”
A voice she could not ignore reached her.
Unable to push through the surging crowd, Lien used magic to leap onto the dais and rushed toward her.
Did he not care that he was casting magic inside the Temple? His robe was even torn open in the process.
‘Foolish man.’
[God seems to hate me terribly for turning back time. No matter how hard I try, I’m always one step too late.]
She remembered that confession from that night, the anguish he could not hide.
One step too late again, he pushed Kiar aside roughly and gathered her into his arms.
“It’s a lie, all a lie. No, I can’t—not again, not this time. I can’t fail, Cecilia, please.”
This time it was not Holy Power but Magical Power that poured into her body. Yet her body itself seemed to obey an order to end itself, refusing to recover at all.
“Why! Why won’t magic work, why won’t Divine Power work!”
His eyes burning crimson with tears, he raged. He screamed.
But despite his desperate efforts, her breath grew fainter and fainter.
In the end, the terrified man broke down and begged.
“Cecilia, please, please don’t die. Don’t leave me behind again. Please?”
Warm droplets fell one by one onto her face.
Beyond her blurring vision, she could see him weeping bitterly.
“I can’t—I can’t bear it anymore. I just found you, and now to be left behind—I can’t. Please, please…….”
There was no way she would survive this now, no matter what was done. If any lingering attachment remained, it was this man before her.
‘Come to think of it, I never properly told Lien that I love him.’
Now she regretted it.
I should have confessed my heart again that day on the hill, without hesitation. To him who confessed his love dozens, hundreds of times, I should have told him in return that perhaps I too might love you. That just as the time he spent with me felt like a dream, so too did I treasure the time we spent together.
So much so that I would not mind never waking from this dream.
There were actually so many moments when I could have confessed. But somewhere in my heart, I knew you would return someday. Perhaps I hid behind that excuse, avoiding the truth.
Look at this. Even as I was dying, behind the worry for him lay an undeniable hope.
[I wanted to return to my original world.]
When I asked that question, the answer from the book I had read.

That was why I had been truly angry at the Pope’s command, yet had not despaired deeply.
Because I could finally return.
Yet had I known he would grieve like this, had I known that seeing him in such pain would bring such regret, I would have avoided this worst of endings.
But regret always comes too late. Selfish to the end, she offered her final prayer not to God, but to him.
That you, who weep so easily, might cry just a little less.
That you said you were tired of this repeating life—so may you weep no more and live your own life forward.
And if you are foolish enough to turn back time once more, may this time bring you a true miracle—not a false Cecilia, but a real Cecilia who loves you.
Simply, may you be happy in whichever life you find yourself.
Instead of speaking all those words, she placed her hand over his, stained with blood.
She wanted to wipe away his tears, but now she was so terribly drowsy that she could not hold on any longer.
“Cecilia!”
By the time his voice calling her name had grown distant and faint.
I’m sorry.
With the sound of someone’s stifled weeping as the last thing she heard, she sank into a deep sleep from which she would not 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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