The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master - Chapter 85

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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 85
It was a letter in a familiar black envelope.
“I tried to wrap this up on my own, but it was beyond me. The Emperor wanted me to give this to you.”
Cecilia accepted the letter Nox held out. Sure enough, it was an invitation from the Emperor.
She scanned the brief contents quickly. In her previous life, he’d cited the crown prince’s investiture as his reason; this time, it seemed a banquet was being held to commemorate the princess’s birthday. Since she happened to be at the Monastery, she was being asked to attend the party.
As her brow furrowed at the unwelcome proposal, Nox added hesitantly.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
Nox spoke of trying to refuse on her behalf somehow, or that approval wasn’t actually so urgent, but from experience, to receive “approval,” she had to go to the Imperial Palace in person.
Yet she no longer had reason to seek approval, nor the will to do so. So it made sense to avoid this tedious affair and the hostile looks that would greet her if she went—but.
“I’ll attend.”
Cecilia decided to accept the Emperor’s invitation readily.
It seemed Lien’s absence was connected to this very thing, and besides, she had business with the Emperor.
After all, the enemy of my enemy is my ally.
She meant to draw the Emperor in to counter the Pope, who had the Grand Temple backing him.
‘This time, I won’t be foolish enough to be caught off guard.’
For that, she was willing to extend her hand to an enemy. Even if that enemy was the Imperial Family itself, or Dilan She.
* * *
The banquet preparations unfolded much as they had in her previous life. This time too, Melanie insisted on having new clothes tailored, faced blunt rejection from several dressmakers, and fumed angrily in response.
Cecilia, who had expected as much, remained unbothered. Rather, she brought out her Ceremonial Robe as if she’d been waiting for this moment.
It was the one she’d worn at her coming-of-age ceremony, a garment with almost no exposed skin save for her hands.
Yet she could be confident it would be more striking than anyone else’s in the Banquet Hall.
Last time, she’d avoided it out of a desire not to draw undue attention, but now, with no need for caution, she donned the Ceremonial Robe without hesitation.
Melanie couldn’t hide her disappointment, but once her golden hair was combed down smoothly and light makeup applied, the saint was complete—sacred and noble, as though she had lived her entire life in service to God alone.
“See? The Ceremonial Robe isn’t bad, is it?”
“…It’s not bad.”
Melanie grudgingly conceded, seemingly satisfied with the result of her own handiwork.
“Then I’ll be going.”
Cecilia bid farewell to Melanie, Leto, and the other servants, then boarded the carriage.
This time, neither Lien nor Miguel would be accompanying her, so the escort fell to Nox.
Dressed in formal attire rather than priestly vestments, Nox was not embarrassingly inadequate as a companion.
…Though she hated to admit it, judged by appearance alone, he was quite impressive.
As Nox discoursed on a hundred ways to remain unswayed when dealing with the royal family and ninety-nine ways to avoid trouble in the Imperial Palace, Cecilia let his words wash over her, and before long the carriage arrived at their destination.
Before her ears could bleed, Cecilia quickly descended from the carriage. She seized Nox’s arm and made for the Banquet Hall with a combative air that left it unclear whether she was giving or receiving an escort.
“You act like you’ve been here before.”
Perhaps it was her ease that made him suspicious. Nox narrowed his eyes and pressed her on it.
Realizing her slip too late, Cecilia shrugged with affected innocence.
“That can’t be right. When would I have ever come to the Imperial Palace?”
“…Well, that’s true, but…”
As Nox conceded reluctantly, the doors to the Banquet Hall suddenly opened.
“Cecilia Webdin and Nox Webdin, please enter.”
The Banquet Hall within was nearly identical to her memory. It blazed with splendor and grandeur.
What hadn’t changed was more than just the hall itself. The flood of sharp stares that met them upon entry remained unchanged.
But compared to a sword piercing one’s heart, this was hardly even uncomfortable.
Cecilia crossed the hall with perfect composure—neither marveling at the space nor intimidated by its occupants.
Nox, however, seemed considerably displeased.
“They’re going to stare holes through you.”
Nox quipped with a forced smile.
Just as his barely-constructed smile faded and his paper-thin patience reached its limit, the masters of the Imperial Palace made their entrance.
Cecilia offered a perfunctory bow in acknowledgment, then reached for a glass of Champagne.
The nobles nearby, who had kept their eyes fixed on her, waiting to catch her in some misstep, began to whisper among themselves in anticipation.
It was not the subject of their barbed remarks who responded, but Nox.
“…Cecilia? Now doesn’t seem like the time to drink?”
“If not now, I won’t have time to drink at all.”
It was a rational conclusion drawn from experience—though Nox didn’t seem to approve.
Cecilia, unbothered, sipped her Champagne and watched the dialogue and events unfold like a rehearsed play.
Apart from the opening remarks shifting from the crown prince’s investiture to congratulations on the princess’s birthday, and the princess’s dress being slightly more revealing, the evening was tediously identical to the previous one.
“As you can see, we are graced with such distinguished guests.”
Even that remark, deliberately made while looking at her.
Hostile glances descended like arrows. So blatant were they that Nox’s face went rigid.
But Cecilia drained the remaining Champagne in her glass in one go and rose to her feet.
Before the Emperor’s aide could seek her out, she decided to find the Emperor first this time.
But Nox stopped her, his expression unusually anxious, playing the protective older brother.
“Where are you going?”
“To see His Majesty. I made a point of mentioning it, so I should at least pay my respects.”
“Then I’ll come with you.”
“No, I’ll go alone.”
Cecilia removed his hand with gentleness but absolute firmness.
There was no help for it. The conversation she needed to have with the Emperor had to remain secret, even from family.
* * *
A soft melody played, woven from piano, violin, and harp. Paired couples began to Waltz in time with the beautiful tune.
Steps flowed one after another, and the dancers spun in unison, rotating clockwise in a gentle circle.
As Cecilia watched the scene unfold—something that looked as though it had stepped straight from a classical film—a familiar silhouette caught her eye.
Just beside the Dance Floor, standing tall in a dark robe next to the Princess in her Jeweled Dress, which could be spotted from across the room, was a broad-shouldered man.
‘Lien.’
Was it a mistake? For an instant, she thought she’d met those crimson eyes.
“Lady Webdin?”
Cecilia turned quickly toward her dance partner, startled. In those moments watching the floor, she’d almost forgotten the Emperor stood beside her.
She forced the stray thoughts away at once.
She’d already found the Emperor and asked him for privacy, making her way up to the Second Floor Space.
“Do you enjoy drinking?”
“I manage reasonably well.”
“Surprising.”
The Emperor offered her a glass of Wine and began the conversation.
“I’ve heard that you met with the Princess privately. She seems rather taken with you, but I don’t care much for people I find suspicious.”
“Our interests simply aligned.”
The very fact that she knew of the Princess’s illness would have seemed suspicious enough.
Whatever explanation she offered, her position as both Webdin and a Saint would make it difficult to earn trust.
Rather than waste words on pointless justifications, Cecilia raised her chin without a hint of shame.
The Emperor made no effort to conceal his disapproval, setting his Wine glass down sharply on the railing.
“So what is it you wanted to discuss with me in secret?”
Cecilia shifted her gaze from the crimson liquid to the man with the vivid red hair.
It might be easier on his mind to dance around the subject…
But she decided it was better to speak her true purpose plainly rather than waste time with unnecessary tension.
So she made her proposal without any dressing, blunt and unadorned.
“Would you be willing to overturn the Temple with me?”
“What?”
The Emperor was so startled that he repeated the words without dignity, his expression blanking.
To prove she hadn’t misspoken and had no hidden meaning, Cecilia continued more deliberately.
“Given my position, it must be difficult for you to trust my word. So I must ask—could the Imperial Family spare me the Flower of God that you possess?”
“…How did you know that was in the Imperial Palace?”
“This is actually my second life. I learned it was there during my Previous Life.”
“…Is that some sort of joke that’s popular with young people these days?”
“Was it not amusing? The truth is, a Saint can see such things through Foresight.”
Cecilia smiled with false sweetness and lied without hesitation. She hadn’t expected him to believe the truth anyway.
The Emperor seemed to find the latter explanation more credible, accepting it without much questioning.
“Bring it to me.”
The Emperor commanded his aide.
It didn’t take long to retrieve the flower.
She held it, and for some reason, its petals seemed fuller than they had been in her Previous Life.
“I’ll explain further. I intend to ruin the Temple—or more precisely, the Pope.”
“Ha! You, a Saint, seek to ruin not me, your Emperor, but the Pope?”
“Yes. If you share my purpose, I ask that you abandon any plans to harm me and help me instead. What do you think?”
“It sounds mad enough to be unbelievable… but looking at the flower, it seems to be the truth.”
The Emperor fell into contemplation, his expression deeply troubled. He was weighing gain against loss.
After the music changed two or three times.
The Emperor, having reached his conclusion, spoke.
“A deal should be fair and just.”
The Emperor took back the white flower from Cecilia’s hands. Then he made his vow.
“I swear to neither harm you nor to aid you—but to help you.”
Just as with Cecilia, not a single petal fell.

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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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