The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master - Chapter 91

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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 91
Cecilia’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart lurched downward, compressed to its limit, then swelled with a sudden, violent thump.
“I thought perhaps a rat had gotten in, but it seems we have a Saint among us.”
The Pope swung the wardrobe door wide open. The stale air trapped inside rushed out, replaced by the sharp chill that settled against her neck.
Cecilia wrapped her trembling arms around herself, goosebumps prickling across her skin.
“Come now, don’t lurk there in that cramped space. Step out.”
He extended his hand toward her.
Rather than take it, Cecilia shrunk backward—but the wardrobe was too narrow. Her back struck the wall almost at once.
The Pope looked down at her, trapped and cornered, then slowly tilted his gaze lower.
In an instant, he recognized the object she’d clutched to her chest.
“How fascinating. So you do know of the Record of God. Yet the woman who woke up chasing the Magic Tower’s Master seems hardly the person I’ve been waiting for all this time.”
When had he assigned a watcher to her?
The Pope knew every detail of what had happened at the Monastery—even that the professor she’d met was in fact the Magic Tower’s Master himself.
“In any case, it belongs to me now. Return it at once.”
Her voice was soft yet resolute. The moment the words left her lips, her hand moved of its own accord.
That vile sensation—she would never forget it.
Her hand thrust forward again, beyond her control.
‘Why? This is still a Consciousness Transfer—I shouldn’t have consumed any Divine Fruit in this life.’
Since awakening in this body, she hadn’t set foot in the Temple once.
Yet when it had happened, she couldn’t fathom.
Her confusion dissolved only when the Pope spoke again.
“Your recent movements have been anything but ordinary. It was wise of you to enlist the Marquis’s aid.”
‘What?’
The only Marquis she knew was Weberdine, Cecilia’s father.
She recalled him—sincere, genuinely concerned, pouring out worried words for his daughter’s sake.
Then came the memory of a fruit tart she’d eaten at lunch mere weeks ago.
Crimson pomegranate seeds adorned its surface. They resembled the Divine Fruit so closely….
It wasn’t betrayal so much as hollow devastation. All strength drained from her body.
Why hadn’t she suspected sooner? It was a contradiction: a father so worried about his daughter, yet failing to notice when her very essence had been exchanged.
Blaming her own stupidity and negligence changed nothing—the milk was spilled. She clenched her teeth until they ached, drawing blood to her lips.
The Pope continued, judging her as though he himself were divine.
“It seems you know far more than I anticipated. What shall we do? Since this attempt has failed, I suppose it’s only fitting to kill you again.”
He murmured to himself, weighing possibilities, then his eyes suddenly brightened as though a brilliant idea had struck him.
“I hear the Magic Tower’s Master followed Weberdine to this place? Once this Ceremony concludes, have him killed.”
At the absurd command, her head snapped up from the slack position it had fallen into.
“Ideally, he’ll kill you instead. But should you succeed, simply follow him along afterwards.”
……
“Ah, and I shall strip away your Divine Power so you may perish without resistance.”
Whether he truly possessed the strength to seize another’s Holy Power or whether mere words sufficed to suppress it, she couldn’t say.
But one thing was certain: without Divine Power, she stood no chance against the Magic Tower’s Master.
So the Pope expected her to fall victim to that Master’s hand, driven by the threat to his own life.
Yet….
There was something this man had overlooked—that the Magic Tower’s Master was none other than Lien.
Lien would never tolerate her being harmed or killed.
If his aim was to break her spirit, it was a masterful strategy.
And it very nearly worked.
But Cecilia forced her crumbling mind back into order.
Rage whitened her vision, yet panic now would be poison.
She swallowed the urge to curse and strike out, composing herself with effort before she spoke.
“Is it to summon a god into this body that you wish Cecilia dead?”
[I wait for one who can comprehend this diary at a glance. For that purpose, Cecilia had to die.]
[At first I believed you were that person… but alas, you were not.]
The meaning of his words was unmistakable. He had always known another dwelled within Cecilia’s flesh. More than that—he had made it so himself.
To summon that being, that god, into this body.
Though some unexpected twist had resulted in her, not a god, taking possession instead.
So the day she’d opened her eyes in the Prayer Room was the day he had murdered Cecilia.
A murderer speaking with the pious sorrow of a true man of the cloth.
“This world has grown desperately ill, far beyond the grace it once knew when under God’s care. As in the beginning, only God can save us now.”
……
“When one must choose between saving tens of millions or a single soul, even should that one be someone precious to me, I am bound to choose the former.”
So she had no choice but to sacrifice one person—Cecilia.
Unable to stomach the sophistry any longer, she asked with irritation.
“And what about that one person’s opinion?”
“Pardon?”
“That one person doesn’t care whether tens of millions die or live—they just want to eat well and live well. So why are you forcing your will on them?”
‘If God needs it so badly, let Him offer His own body.’
He was utterly ridiculous.
“The greater good is difficult to grasp easily, I understand. But it’s alright. God has given me the strength to attempt this again and again.”
He muttered on, genuinely believing every word.
Like a fanatic.
* * *
The day before the Relief Ceremony.
As the sun set and darkness settled deep over the world in the dead of night, Cecilia slipped quietly from her room.
Her feet carried her to the very Prayer Room where she had first awakened.
Cecilia stood motionless before the statue of God, gazing up slowly at what was, in truth, nothing more than marble.
“Isn’t it rather late for prayer?”
At the low voice behind her, she turned. Lien stood in the doorway.
“I didn’t think you could actually enter the Prayer Room itself.”
When she’d sent word asking to meet him here, she’d thought it might be impossible.
But the Magic Tower’s Master seemed far more capable than she’d imagined.
The truth was, she’d summoned him because there was something she needed to ask him to do during tomorrow’s ceremony.
Instead of broaching the subject, Cecilia studied his face, shadowed in darkness, committing every detail to memory.
By the time she felt she could draw his features from her mind’s eye with her eyes closed, she asked him with a sharp smile.
“Tell me—do you believe in God?”
Mages, by and large, do not believe in God. They believe only in truths yet to be uncovered and truths already revealed.
It would be the same for Lien, and likely for her as well.
“I think faith is sublime. A signpost that points life toward perfect direction—that’s what I think.”
What followed was almost a whisper to herself. Perhaps it was closer to disbelief.
Because she’d come to understand that one person’s twisted faith had caused suffering to both herself and him.
Cecilia hunched her shoulders and lowered her eyes, falling silent at last.
Lien, who had listened to her words in quiet contemplation, answered.
“If faith is the only eternal thing a human can possess, if it’s like the very force that keeps us alive, then I’ve chosen to believe in you.”
In your existence, in the feelings I hold for you, in the words and time and memories you’ve given me.
He confessed it matter-of-factly.
Cecilia’s eyes widened at his unexpected answer, and she murmured bitterly.
“I’ve never heard such a grand confession before.”
Cecilia asked the man who was choosing to believe in her—neither saint nor science—once more.
“What if I suddenly disappeared?”
“……Disappeared?”
“Hypothetically.”
“I’d find you. Wherever you are, whoever you’re with.”
“And then lock me away?”
“No. I’d beg just to be by your side. Every day.”
[What would you do if the person you loved liked someone else?]
[I think I would ask only to remain by their side.]
It was a familiar answer. And yet not one she’d hoped to hear.
“Then if I died, so that I couldn’t even be by your side anymore?”
“I’d bring you back, no matter what.”
He stated it without a moment’s hesitation.
In that instant, what surged through her was pity.
Would this Lien before her undergo the same process?
Would he too fail to accept his own death, turning back time? Turning it back dozens of times, suffering dozens of times? Would love be all that remained while everything else crumbled? Would even that love eventually be abandoned?
She felt tears threatening. Her throat tightened with something—guilt or anguish, she couldn’t tell.
“Because there’s no reason to live without you anymore.”
His voice had grown tender. That you’re necessary. That you’ve become so important. That I’ve come to hold you so deeply in my heart.
That quiet confession pierced her chest like a bullet.
In the sharp pain that followed, Cecilia finally understood the mistake she had made.
No. This shouldn’t happen.
“Then just… die instead.”
‘Don’t wait for someone like me.’
‘Don’t repeat that wretched life again.’
“Don’t search for ways to revive yourself. Just live out your years in peace.”
She spoke without thinking, then suddenly understood what she’d said.
[I told him to simply accept death.]
[It seemed no different from any other life.]
[No. Rather, because of those words, I felt that he truly cherished me.]
That night, as she confessed her long suffering, he had said precisely that.
In the first life, she had spoken those words, and because of her, he had come to love—or so he’d said.
‘So you truly were the Lien I loved.’
‘The one who destroyed Lien wasn’t Cecilia, wasn’t anything outside myself—it was me all along.’
Cecilia stood before a man not yet stained by anguish, before he had begun his foolish Regression.
What terrible thing had she done to this person?
Had she only known this timeline was where it all began, she would never have sought him out. Never have stayed with him. Never have let their shared moments become something she’d wish would last forever.
Yet already his crimson eyes held only her.
She wanted to embrace this foolish man. No—she wanted to cling to him, screaming for him not to do this. No—she wanted to kneel and beg his forgiveness, confessing every fault as her own.
But Cecilia did none of these things.
She merely reached out with her chilled hand and covered his eyes.
“Cecilia?”
The way he questioned it without pulling her hand away was so like Lien—past Lien, or perhaps Lien yet to come—that it undid her.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
Cecilia pressed her lips reverently against the back of her own hand where it rested over his eyes.

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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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