Chapter 110 – What Love Is
2024.02.18
The attendant quickly realized that the man who had just been groveling for his life before Anton with a cloak pulled over his head was none other than Maximilian. With that, he hurried away.
Just before the coffin was to be lowered into the ground, Anton gestured toward the priest who was preparing to recite the prayer. The priest bowed and approached him.
“What is it, my lord?”
“The burial will be postponed. You may leave for today.”
“Pardon?”
“My lord…”
The steward, who had been listening nearby, grimaced. But Anton repeated himself firmly.
“Leave. I will summon you again when the time comes.”
“My lord, you must let the young lady go. You should release her, so she may rest peacefully.”
“She’s my daughter! I brought her into this world, so it is my decision when she leaves it!”
Anton’s bloodshot eyes blazed as he roared at the steward. Fearing that anger might turn on him, the priest quickly retreated.
So it’s true—the head of House Embly has gone mad after losing his daughter.
No matter what magic had been used to preserve it, a corpse inevitably carried a foul stench. She should have been buried long ago. Clicking his tongue, the priest gathered his scriptures and departed Embly Castle.
Thus, the funeral fell apart without ever taking place. Rosalyn’s coffin was not lowered into the earth, but instead brought back inside the castle. Many attendants whispered among themselves, but none dared say Anton’s actions were wrong.
“M-My lord…”
Maximilian was dragged forward by the knights, his body swaying like a paper doll.
Anton raised his sheathed sword and struck his head. He repeated the act several times—so many that, in the end, he looked as if he were carrying out a mere task without emotion.
When the sheath was finally soaked in blood, Anton flung it aside.
“Ugh!”
“Speak. Repeat what you said earlier.”
“…Within Atilley, there exists an ancient magic passed down through the generations.”
Maximilian panted for a long time before regaining enough strength to speak. Blood streamed from his forehead and scalp, but no one paid it any mind.
Anton jerked his chin, urging him to continue.
“As you know, reviving the dead is a forbidden act among mages. But a taboo is only a taboo because it can be broken. Atilley was brought back using that very magic.”
“He claimed to have used a soul-transference spell.”
“All lies.”
Maximilian spoke with fierce conviction.
“The so-called soul transference is nothing more than legend. Not a single person has ever succeeded with it. Atilley fabricated that story to conceal the forbidden spell he truly used.”
Maximilian hissed like a serpent, pleading for his life. Anton was half-mad with grief, yet still sane enough not to accept his words without thought.
“Do you have proof this magic exists?”
“Of course.”
As if he had been waiting, Maximilian pulled out a scrap of paper from his robes and handed it to Anton. It looked so old it seemed it would crumble at a touch.
Anton examined it, but he could hardly understand anything written there.
“Unfortunately, this single page is all I managed to obtain from Atilley’s forbidden grimoire. If you doubt it, summon your own mages to verify it. They too will acknowledge it records a forbidden spell.”
“Fine. But it has already been a month since Rosalyn died. Can she truly be revived?”
“Atilley returned after three months. It is a slow-working magic. As long as the body is well-preserved, it is possible.”
Maximilian answered smoothly, without hesitation. Anton clung to his words like a drowning man to a rope.
“Where is Rosalyn’s soul now, that it can be recalled even after death?”
“That, I do not know. But what is certain is that Atilley knew the way—and succeeded.”
Logic screamed that Maximilian was lying. Yet to Anton, he seemed like a man who had appeared precisely for his sake—a single ray of light piercing the abyss.
Even the faintest possibility was something he could not ignore. He immediately summoned the mages of House Embly and gave them the page Maximilian had shown him.
The mages’ eyes widened upon seeing it.
“What is written there?”
“It… it speaks of forbidden magic.”
“What kind of forbidden magic?”
“A spell to revive the dead. But, my lord, you know well—it is no real magic. It’s only a myth, passed down from long ago.”
“Then what do you call this writing?!”
Anton’s voice thundered. The method to restore the dead was right before their eyes, yet they denied its existence. He glared fiercely at them.
“A single page cannot prove anything. If someone writes about a horned horse, does that make it real?”
The elder mage calmly replied, but Anton no longer heard reason.
“Then how do you explain Atilley’s return from death?”
“That… well…”
“The Elector of Atilley simply transferred his soul back into his original body. He never truly died, so calling it a resurrection is misleading.”
The argument raged on, logic against desperation. The more the mages explained, the more Anton’s eyes strayed back to Maximilian’s page.
“Useless fools! Even the faintest chance of such a method existing—you should have brought it to me at once!”
“…Forgive us, my lord.”
That was all they could say. Anton dismissed them and began pacing by the window.
The roses outside had withered, their yellowed petals drooping. The sight filled him with sudden rage.
Why had Leonard Atilley alone returned by this method?
Why must only he live again, while his own daughter remained dead?
“Bring Maximilian to me again.”
The attendant bowed and left, returning shortly with Maximilian, who wore a faint smile.
“My lord, I never speak falsehood.”
“Is Atilley the only one who knows how to perform this magic?”
“Yes. It is a secret passed only to the head of his house. I do not know the full contents.”
“Then, for Atilley to use it to bring back my daughter—”
“He would need his disciple.”
“As a hostage, you mean?”
Anton rubbed his jaw with a low groan. He had considered such a tactic to protect Daniel, but the risks remained high. He could not predict how Atilley would respond.
“Indeed. Though the attempt failed because of Ebrard’s Treasure, it remains the only way to control him.”
“Ebrard’s Treasure?”
In answer, Maximilian briefly explained the bracelet Cordelia possessed.
Anton’s mouth parted slightly in astonishment. Even he, ignorant of magic, was impressed.
“Such a thing truly exists?”
“Yes. It is extremely rare, nearly impossible to obtain—yet he gave it to his disciple. Proof of how dearly he treasures her.”
Maximilian drew a breath, then lowered his voice.
“That is why it is all the more necessary to capture Vasquez and make her consume Tarcia.”
“But if she carries such a treasure, how could she be kidnapped and poisoned? Even bribing those around her would be difficult.”
“All that is needed is to lure Vasquez out alone.”
“And after that?”
“We can erect a barrier to nullify her magic, just long enough to subdue her and make her take the poison.”
Anton listened intently. Maximilian spoke as though he had planned everything in advance. The scheme to kidnap Cordelia and force poison upon her grew increasingly refined.
By the time their discussion ended, the sun had set and the moon had risen.
After dismissing Maximilian, Anton went to Rosalyn’s chamber, where she lay in perfect stillness. Thanks to the constant cleansing and enchantments cast on her body, she appeared merely to be in a deep slumber.
“Just a little longer, Rosie. Soon, we will meet again.”
Several days had passed since Cordelia had been kidnapped—and escaped by using Ebrard’s Treasure.
Much had happened since.
The summoning of a demon had left Wilas in ruins, and nearly all the Seiriuses were frantically occupied trying to restore order. Leonard was no exception, making it difficult for Cordelia to even see his face.
For her safety, she had returned to the Mage’s Association. Baron, of course, was barred from entering, and her teacher as well as all the other familiar Seiriuses were so busy that Cordelia spent nearly every day shut away in the laboratory with Candias.
Her only chance to encounter others was when she went to the communal dining hall twice a day.
“What exactly is love?”
“Well, well. So you’ve finally taken an interest in such things?”
Ilias grinned slyly, giving Cordelia a nudge under the table with his foot. She pushed her empty dishes aside and replied,
“Don’t you dare start talking about that nonsense ‘good relationship’ again.”
“Nonsense? Everyone else—okay, okay, don’t go.”
When Cordelia immediately stood as if to leave, Ilias quickly stopped her.
“But really, why bring up love all of a sudden? Did someone catch your eye?”
“It’s not like that…”
Cordelia mumbled, swallowing her words. The way Leonard’s eyes had burned with emotion lingered deep in her heart, impossible to forget.
Ugggh. What a terrible choice of person to ask that of