Ian, who had been listening intently, turned his head in surprise. The eyes of the child before him were unwavering, seeming to ask, Isn’t this what you wanted?

It was then that Ian noticed Roel’s eyes were a rather peculiar shade. While his own and Philea’s were like leaves bathed in sunlight, Roel’s were akin to the lush, dense foliage of a jungle. They held a powerful life force, a gaze that seemed to channel the raw spirit of nature itself.

After a brief hesitation, Ian asked, “Roel, did you see something?”

“It’s not that I saw,” the child corrected him. “It’s that I see.”

See? Ian wondered. As if she’s dreaming while wide awake? But the child’s gaze drifted to a vacant point in the air, and she said no more.

Ian placed a hand on Roel’s shoulder and turned to Philea. “Mother, did you know about this?” That she was special.

Looking troubled, Philea fidgeted with her fingertips before glancing at Nersarn. Though she loved everyone in the room, Roel was the child who would one day carry the future of the Cheonryeo tribe. Her eyes pleaded with her husband, asking what she should say. Nersarn gave a slow nod, a silent agreement to reveal the truth.

“Yes, we did. But we only found out a short while ago ourselves. She first spoke of it on our journey from Hielo to the capital. It seems it’s her destiny to succeed Chief Winchen, now that her grace has passed.”

“…Winchen. So she’s gone.”

“She was smiling in her final moments, my son.”

I see. I suppose it was inevitable. Ian thought, a pang of sorrow echoing in his chest. She was old, and the Silasque I had was never going to be enough. To feel the chasm of years through the news of someone’s death… He met Roel’s steady gaze. If Roel is to succeed Winchen, then it means one day, she too will need the Silasque.

The Bastard Ian—or rather, the god who had been in his place—had possessed two artifacts: Idgal and Silasque. While some of Idgal’s secrets had been unveiled, Silasque remained a complete enigma.

“Roel,” Ian said gently. “Please, tell us what you see. This is something that will help you in the end.”

Roel’s pupils lost their focus, her gaze turning distant, yet her voice remained as clear as a bell, as if she were simply describing a scene unfolding before her very eyes. “The two humans who were with you when you fell into the Abyss, brother… they’re with them now. A man and a woman.”

“The sunset is a deep crimson, and black spears rise from the ground everywhere. Toward the setting sun, there is a low hill where blood-stained flowers bloom with a terrible beauty. People clad in black armor are burying bodies.”

Listening intently, Romandro’s pen flew across his paper, as if he couldn’t bear to miss a single syllable. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the child to continue, but Roel’s lips merely parted a few times before she fell into silence.

A brief stillness hung in the air.

Beric broke it, running a hand back through his hair. “Fantastic,” he muttered. “Just fantastic. She didn’t tell us where it is.”

“We’ll just have to guess, I suppose. Hmm.”

“Since she saw it happening in real-time, it must be somewhere with a time difference that isn’t too far from Bariel, right?”

“And she mentioned a hill, so that rules out any major mountain ranges.”

“Wait, hold on a moment. The first thing she said—the two humans who went into the Abyss with Lord Ian. Isn’t that the most important clue?”

The mages’ questions ceased as every gaze in the room focused on Ian. Countless people had fallen into the Abyss with him that day. How could they possibly single out one man and one woman? If they were among Rutherford’s followers, identifying them would be impossible.

But Beric, ever the optimist, just shook Ian’s shoulder insistently. “Come on, Ian, you can figure it out! Who could it be? Huh?”

“Beric, do you think Lord Ian is some kind of fortune-teller?” another mage retorted. “How could he possibly know every one of Rutherford’s underlings?”

“Hey, you’re looking down on Ian! Ian! He’s disrespecting you!”

“I’m not disrespecting him! I’m just being logical—”

“…Melania and Clark?”

Ian’s quiet murmur cut through the argument, silencing the room. The mages stared blankly for a second before erupting all at once.

“What? Who did you say?”

“Melania? You mean the daughter of House Hayman?”

“That’s insane! So they really are a family of traitors, jumping right into bed with Rutherford!”

“But who in the world is Clark?”

“Clark, Clark… That name sounds familiar.”

“Lord Romandro, right? I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere, too.”

“If only Beric and I know him, does that mean he’s from Hielo?”

“No, all of you, be quiet! We’ll find out if we just listen to Lord Ian!”

Clap!

Unable to stand it any longer, Akorella silenced them with a single, sharp clap of her hands. It was a stern warning: if they didn’t shut their mouths, the next sound wouldn’t be her palms meeting, but one of them meeting their skulls.

Instantly, they all fell silent, their eyes wide and shining like well-behaved children. Ian tapped his cheek, gathering his thoughts.

“When I confronted Rutherford, I believe I caught a glimpse of Melania and Clark.”

“Melania was definitely there,” Akorella confirmed. “She was inside the exhibition hall. We even made eye contact right when my ankle was broken. I have no idea who Clark is, though.”

“Clark is a trusted subordinate of Lady Lien Merellof,” Ian added.

“Ah! Now I remember!” Romandro exclaimed, the fog in his memory clearing. “The man who went to Tuloon!” He grabbed Beric and shook him in his excitement, but Beric just scratched his ear, still completely lost.

Ignoring them, Ian’s focus remained unbroken, his brow furrowed in concentration. “After I vanished, when the authorities were securing the scene, their bodies would have been recorded if they were found.”

“Yes, that’s right,” a mage agreed. “But no such record exists.”

“Melania was already well-known in the palace, and Lord Romandro knows Clark by face. The fact that they weren’t found proves they must have gone into the Abyss with me.”

“Assuming they went into the Abyss is one thing,” Romandro interjected. “But many others followed Rutherford that day. Why are you so certain it’s Melania and Clark?”

“Most of those who followed Rutherford were mages,” Ian explained. “And I eliminated all the mages in the Abyss.”

“Ah, well… I see.” Romandro’s lips formed a small ‘o’. Hearing Ian speak so calmly of eliminating people, with such a youthful face, was unsettling.

“It is exceedingly difficult for an ordinary person to survive in the Abyss, and escaping from it is next to impossible. However, Melania knows the secret of my childhood. It’s possible she made a deal with the Gypsies to travel with them.”

“Your childhood secret?”

“The contents of the magical contract between Rutherford and me. I’ve lost the memory, but she seemed to know all about it.”

“Ah, if that’s the case, your theory has merit.”

“I’m certain the woman is Melania, but I cannot be sure if the man is Clark. Not that it matters a great deal in the end.”

The Gypsy Who Ate Secrets. The thought of tracking down beings who moved freely between Gaia and the Abyss had been a daunting prospect, but thanks to Roel, the scope of the search had narrowed considerably.

Jin, who had been listening in silence, issued a command to Xiaoshi. “It will be easier to find Melania. Issue a wanted order throughout Bariel and the neighboring nations.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And deliver Roel’s testimony to every department. Have them gather their opinions. The same goes for the Ministry of Magic. I expect a full analysis and report.”

“Ah–” Romandro started to reply out of reflex but quickly clamped his mouth shut and glanced at Ian. He had just acted on the duties he had partially assumed while the Minister’s seat was vacant, a role that was no longer his.

Ian, sensing Romandro’s thoughts, smiled warmly. “Understood, Your Majesty. I will see that the report is submitted.”

“One more thing.” Jin nodded toward Roel. “What is your answer to Roel’s question? ‘Have you seen God?’”

“Oh, right,” Beric piped up. “We almost glossed over that. And that part about ‘dying several times’ was strange, too, Ian. I don’t get it.”

“Ah.” Ian paused. He couldn’t possibly explain that the Bastard Ian’s very existence was the result of divine intervention. Not only had the Gypsies consumed that secret in the Abyss, but revealing it now, at a time when he needed to dispel suspicions about his own royal lineage, would only create more confusion. And even if Jin had matured enough to handle the truth of a half-brother, why burden him with more weight?

And above all else—

Philea is here.

Unable to predict how Philea would react, Ian judged that silence was the better course. He looked at Roel, who was smiling faintly as he glanced around the room.

“I will report to His Majesty separately,” Ian stated, his meaning clear: there were too many ears present.

Jin shrugged in understanding. He pulled a pocket watch from his coat and checked the time.

Click.

“The grand conference will begin shortly. Lord Ian, as the Head of the Ministry of Magic, your attendance is mandatory. I have been briefed on the general situation and will ensure there are no issues.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

“Akorella.”

“Yeees?”

“You mentioned the recovery potion has side effects. I trust you, as a woman who meticulously calculates risks and rewards, but I am also concerned for Lord Ian, who has only just returned.”

“Oh, my! Your Majesty!” Akorella burst into laughter, waving a dismissive hand. As if she would give Ian anything that could harm him! She had brewed it with the utmost care and affection. There might be a side effect, but it was trivial. Besides, for Ian to prove his identity at the conference, a demonstration of his magic was essential. He had to show them all he was powerful enough to lead the mages, so no one could dare question the Minister’s return.

“Don’t you worry. It’s always the ones who haven’t tried it that make the most noise. I had a whole bowl of it myself yesterday! See? I’m perfectly fine, am I not?”

“You don’t seem fine at all, Captain,” a mage muttered under his breath.

“Ahem, who was that? Who’s making that racket?”

“Then it is settled,” Jin declared. “Lord Ian, the choice is yours. I will take my leave. We will speak again soon.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will see you in the conference hall.”

“You’re leaving? Farewell, then!” Beric called out cheerfully.

“Beric! That’s no way to address His Majesty!” Romandro scolded, landing a light thwack on his head.

As Jin departed, graciously accepting the mages’ farewells, Vivi scampered into the seat he had vacated. She said nothing, simply adjusting her glasses and staring at Ian with a look of pure fascination, her eyes sparkling so brightly that Ian couldn’t help but smile.

“Wow, you’re even more amazing when you smile,” Vivi breathed.

“Vivi, what about me?” Beric leaned into her space, grinning widely. “I’m handsome when I smile, too, right?”

Vivi shoved his cheek away. “Uncle Beric, you should probably just keep smiling all the time. Otherwise, things might get tough for you.”

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean? You should smile more, too!”

“I am smiling right now. Can’t you see?”

While the two bickered, Ian gently tapped the shoulder of Roel, who had been standing quietly. The child turned her head, raising a single eyebrow in question.

“How much did you see?” Ian asked softly.

“…”

It seemed Roel had indeed witnessed Ian’s time in the Abyss, but her opening question—Have you seen God?—suggested she didn’t know the full story. Ian tried to probe further, but the child gave no answer, instead turning and melting into her mother’s embrace, a clear sign she wished to speak no more.

“Roel,” Philea said, her tone gentle but troubled as she patted her back.

Ian shook his head slightly, signaling her to let it be. “You look well, Mother.”

“…You too, Ian.”

The words were few, but they carried the warmth of a heartfelt inquiry into each other’s well-being.

Akorella began herding the mages, urging them to get a move on, while Romandro finally managed to pry Beric and Vivi apart, a task not unlike separating a quarreling dog and cat.

“Alright, let’s start getting ready,” Akorella announced. “Lord Ian, what are your orders?”

“The mages from the North are to gather and organize all reports sent to the palace to date. The rest of you, bring me every record pertaining to my disappearance ten years ago.”

“Yes, understood!”

“Whoo, time to work! We’ll be on our way!”

“Oh, and should we also prepare the report from Clifford in the south?”

“Yes. Bring everything to me. I intend to be familiar with it all before the conference begins.”

The mages departed the Minister’s office, grins plastered on their faces as if they’d been given the greatest of news. Ian took an empty teacup and held it out to Akorella, who nodded in approval and began to pour the potion.

“By the way,” Ian asked, “what exactly is the side effect?”

“Ah, that?” Akorella handed him the teacup, motioning for him to down it in one go, and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

A moment later, a single eyebrow arched on Ian’s face. It seemed the side effect truly was nothing of consequence. He brought the cup to his lips.