Tweller took a deep drag from his cigarette.

While the smoke descended to his lungs, wandered through his body, and rose again, Ian watched him with an unwavering gaze. Though time was short, his eyes urged Tweller to get on with whatever he wanted to ask.

Tweller had to admit that the Ian before him now was vastly different from the one he’d seen by moonlight just days ago. He had seemed like someone who wouldn’t easily break.

This is why magic was both dangerous and wondrous. To transform someone so solid in an instant.

“Lord Tweller.”

“About the fissure beneath Clifford’s soil. I’m curious if that information is reliable.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Although they’re conducting geological surveys in Clifford, isn’t it just a suspicion without evidence?”

Ian touched his forehead as if he’d heard something ridiculous.

“The magic anomaly detectors installed at the border showed readings significantly higher than average. There have also been several earthquakes, so circumstantially, it fits.”

“I find it more curious that you’re using the word ‘circumstantially.'”

He’d expected Ian to be someone who would make judgments based on something more precise and certain than mere circumstances—like King Damon was doing now.

“We need to address how King Damon knows about the fissure beneath Clifford. You mentioned magic anomaly detectors? Those fall under Bariel’s jurisdiction, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“If that information was leaked, we can’t rule out the possibility of a spy within Bariel, can we?”

The magic anomaly detectors were manufactured by the Ministry of Magic before jurisdiction transferred to the Imperial Guard. That’s why the initial reports came through Jeirutt.

In any case, Burgos knowing about this information was certainly something to be wary of, as Tweller suggested.

“It would be good not to rule that out. But we’re in a war situation now. We have no energy to spare for such matters. Lord Tweller, you seem curious about how King Damon is so certain about the fissure.”

“Precisely.”

Tweller smiled slightly, wiggling his finger. The cigarette smoke wavered faintly with his gesture.

“……”

Ian fell silent for a moment.

Damon’s certainty likely stemmed from his experience. Having gone back in time, he would know what had happened in Clifford.

Ian calculated whether sharing this with Tweller would be beneficial or harmful. This man had just come down with Crown Prince Jin’s trust, desperate to establish his position and seize this unprecedented opportunity to solidify his standing.

What would happen if he shared what could be Damon’s secret—and possibly his weakness?

“Lord Ian. Let me say one thing: I am Crown Prince Jin’s man. I’m prepared to give all glory to His Highness—I swear this on my life. On my fallen comrades, my sinful hands, and on Bariel.”

Tweller had caught the scent. Ian knew something the Bariel Imperial Palace didn’t.

“Damon knows.”

Ian decided to reveal only half the truth—that ambiguous border between truth and falsehood.

“Timothy—she was previously spotted in Bariel. His Highness knows this too. She came to Bariel looking for the legless gypsy, a woman who foresees the future. Damon seems to be searching for her and planning to use her, but like all gypsies, she’s as elusive as the wind. Even mages couldn’t stop her.”

“A prophet?”

“Something like that.”

Hmm. Tweller chewed on his cigarette.

Burgos bordered the northern territories and had a culture deeply steeped in sorcery. It wasn’t implausible, but something still felt insufficient.

“I see. One more thing.”

“Go ahead.”

“What will you do if not all the mages return? Our mission is the safe return of the Ministry of Magic. More precisely, Crown Prince Jin wants Lord Ian to return to Bariel.”

If not all the mages return?

Ian pretended not to hear, turning his head to look at the shadows lingering outside. Everyone was waiting for the conversation between Ian and Tweller to end.

“…How is Crown Prince Jin?”

“Yes, of course. His authority reaches every corner of the Imperial Palace. There’s nothing he won’t be able to accomplish in the future.”

He had already achieved remarkable things at such a young age. He had replaced the Minister of Imperial Defense with his own hands and was learning firsthand how to place his people in key positions. I guarantee that when he matures, Bariel will enjoy a golden age among golden ages.

Ian rested his chin on his hand, lowering his eyes slightly.

“I see. I’m relieved to hear he’s doing well.”

Jin, that precious child, was destined for the Emperor’s path. This was a fact Ian knew and history had laid out.

Then what path should I take?

Ian touched his forehead and made a request to Tweller.

“Minister, I’m sorry, but I’d like to be alone for a while.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll follow Captain Jeirutt. The Imperial Guard is working to rescue mages in a foreign country—the Imperial Defense Department can’t just stand by and watch.”

Creak.

Tweller crushed out his cigarette and rose from his seat.

Left alone, Ian stood quietly, gazing out the window. The moon was exceptionally bright. It looked like an exit from the darkness that imprisoned him.

‘Naum.’

What advice would you have given if you were by my side right now? Asking himself this question made Ian’s mind feel clearer.

The path I should take.

It can only be found within, not in the past or future. You are the center of your world, and only you can determine your path. That’s what you would have said.

‘If history has mapped out Jin’s future, mine must be mapped out too.’

Knock knock.

The sound interrupted Ian’s thoughts.

Through a small gap, a mage extended his hand, looking extremely apologetic for defying Ian’s request to be alone.

“Lord Ian. I apologize. A message has arrived from the Imperial Palace. I’ll just deliver this.”

Creak.

And the door quickly closed. Did they realize he could see them all clustered at the window?

Ian chuckled as he picked up the message. He thought it would be a reply from Jin, but the sender was the Prime Minister.

-…Burgos’s envoy Timothy has defected alone.

Cutting through the unnecessary sentences at the beginning and end, this was the content that caught Ian’s attention.

So it finally happened. Ian leaned against the wall, repeatedly mulling over Timothy’s name. Some things didn’t change, even with Damon’s time travel or his own reincarnation.

If anything changed here, it would be small droplets that wouldn’t interfere with history’s major currents.

“…Beric.”

Bang!

Crash!

“Hey! Did you call me?!”

“Aaaah, you lunatic! Why would you open it so suddenly?!”

Ian had whispered very softly, but Beric had noticed and flung open the door. Simultaneously, mages came tumbling in. Ian looked at them in disbelief, and the mages awkwardly smiled as they scrambled to their feet.

“Uh, Lord Ian. We were worried about you. We were guarding the door. Yes.”

“Ian! Why did you call me? Huh? Why? What do you want to do?”

“Should we leave again? You just need Beric, right? Um, Captain Jeirutt and Minister Tweller went to the operations room with Prince Noah.”

As everyone hastily got up and tried to back away, Ian shook his head.

“No. Come in. That’s why I called.”

“I-I see. Should we bring you some food?”

“Yes. You must be hungry. We haven’t seen you eat anything recently.”

Ian tilted his head, staring at those concerned for him. Seeing them with his own eyes gave him a strange feeling. As a leader, I have a duty to guide and care for them, but why do they follow me?

As Ian continued to stare without saying anything, they all exchanged glances while sweating profusely.

‘Is Lord Ian going to cry again?’

‘Damn it, that lunatic Beric suddenly opening the door. Shit.’

‘Someone say something. Or call Captain Hale. Or even Captain Akorella.’

‘Are you crazy? Not Captain Akorella.’

“Are you all right?”

While they were all whispering with their eyes, an unexpected question came. It was Ian asking. They looked at him with wide eyes.

“Pardon?”

“Lord Ian, that’s what we should be asking you.”

“Exactly. From confronting forbidden magic to everything else, your physical and mental fatigue must be severe. Why do you keep saying what we should be saying?”

“That’s right, Ian! The problem is these guys who only supported you from behind while you fought alone. Why do you keep acting like this?”

…This bastard.

The mages glared at him, but they couldn’t retort because he was right. If they had been more capable, they wouldn’t have let Ian bear all the burden alone.

“…Isn’t that what I should say?”

“Nope. Not unless you’re saying it to make these guys suffer. Think about it. Why is a smart kid like you acting this way? These guys got hurt because of Ruswena’s mages, and because that creepy bastard Damon started a war. So why do you keep acting like it’s your fault? What are you, the—mmph!”

The mages were shocked as they covered Beric’s mouth. They knew he was crazy, but he’d completely lost his mind!

They all groaned as they pulled at Beric’s limbs.

“Of course he is, you idiot! He’s Lord Ian!”

“What? I’m not wrong! No one needs to suffer, but if you’re suffering, we suffer too!”

“It’s a side effect of magic, you bastard!”

“That doesn’t work on Ian! Don’t you know him?”

“No, we do. But why is he like this? Did he secretly eat something bad?”

“Lord Ian. We’re sorry. We’ll wait outside. Um, get some rest.”

Beric was truly angry. From trying to send him under the Imperial Guard’s command to acting so unlike himself—it made him not just irritated but anxious.

Ian vacantly watched this scene and nodded slightly.

“…Food.”

“What?”

“Bring food. Let’s eat together.”

“Ah, yes! Yes, yes! I’ll have it brought right away! Lord Ian, when the stomach is hungry, the mind is hungry too. You made a good decision.”

Ian still hadn’t accepted it—Beric’s words that it wasn’t his fault.

But if everyone insisted on it, perhaps he needed to accept it even if he couldn’t truly accept it. He recognized that mental issues were intertwined with the self, making them difficult to perceive on one’s own.

“Beric. Am I strange right now?”

“Yeah. Super.”

“…I see.”

Beric’s eyes widened, and Ian calmly met his gaze. Then he neatly folded the Imperial Palace letter and put it in his inner pocket.

At Ian’s order for food, the mages happily bustled about the corridor.

“Eat, sleep some more, then wake up. I’ll tell you again whether you’re strange or not.”

“And if I’m still strange then?”

“Eat again, sleep again.”

“Then when do we fight the war?”

“I’ll do it instead of you. I can really do well this time.”

Ian didn’t realize that engaging in small talk and welcoming those who approached him was a way of sharing the burden.

He frowned at the churning feeling deep in his chest, and Beric pressed his fingertip against it.

“Don’t frown. It doesn’t suit you.”

***

“Ah.”

A brief cry.

Jin woke up, drenched in sweat. Xiaoshi also noticed the movement and lit a lamp. He called out to the child with concern.

“Your Highness?”

Did you have a bad dream? As Xiaoshi prepared a wet cloth and approached, Jin threw off the covers and got up completely.

It was still dawn. With many meetings scheduled during the day, getting up this early could lead to fatigue issues.

“Your Highness. Even if it’s difficult, please continue to sleep. I’ll bring some warm tea.”

“No, don’t.”

“Do you have orders for me?”

“…The documents Timothy brought.”

“Yes.”

Jin wiped the sweat dripping from his chin and commanded:

“I need to send a copy to Lord Ian.”

“Now?”

In Jin’s dream, Roberside had appeared after a long time—his mysterious ancestor on his mother’s side who had protected him from Arsen’s evil.

Xiaoshi wiped Jin’s sweat, but Jin pushed his hand away and ordered:

“Immediately. As quickly as possible. Prepare someone.”

“…Understood.”

There had been a mysterious message that Ian would break otherwise. Jin ran to his study, his heart pounding heavily in his chest.