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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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Chapter 23: Fiancé (2)
Where should I start?
...Right, to explain this relationship, it’s necessary to understand something called the “Marriage of Pharos.”
As I mentioned before, the Pharos family holds a unique position, different from other noble families.
Though it’s greater and more honorable than any other, it is barred from participating in politics.
Moreover, its achievements are entirely attributed to the royal family.
In other words, an engagement with Pharos cannot be wielded as a weapon in the political arena.
Because of this, the Pharos family has traditionally faced various difficulties in marriage.
However, that didn’t mean they could just bring anyone in to take the seat of the lady of the house.
The family, after all, remains a great one.
The match must be a noble, with exceptional abilities.
Simultaneously, the family must lack political ambitions.
At this point, you may wonder:
Who would want to marry into Pharos, then?
What’s in it for them?
There’s just one answer.
An irreplaceable honor.
Legitimacy.
A name worthy of standing beside the royal family as equals.
There have always been noble families who desired that, and it was the same in my generation.
Numerous candidates were available, but the one considered the best was Beatrice from Baron Gilfur’s house.
Baron Gilfur’s house was only about 100 years old, severely lacking in legitimacy.
Constantly attacked for this lack, they were in desperate need of a sturdy marriage alliance to counterbalance it.
During such times, Beatrice von Gilfur was born into that family, bringing with her an astounding magical talent hailed as a gift from the heavens.
She joined the Magic Tower at the mere age of six.
And by sixteen, she’d broken through the Third Rank, known as the Commoner’s Wall, reaching the Fourth Rank.
The public proclaimed it: She would be the next head of the Magic Tower, and the age she led would be the most glorious era of magic.
Thus, Beatrice was a fitting match for Pharos.
The advantage of this marriage was evident.
For Pharos, there was the benefit of passing on a talent destined to head the Magic Tower to their heir.
For Gilfur, there was the legitimacy gained through Pharos’s power, and for the Magic Tower, the relief of escaping pressure from the royal family.
It was a calculated engagement.
One that offered a suitable benefit to both sides, with only minor inconveniences to bear.
It all aligned so perfectly, it seemed heaven had arranged it.
As a noble marriage is rarely a personal affair, neither this woman nor I felt compelled to resist.
That’s the essence of my relationship with Beatrice.
‘A sort of alliance.’
A relationship forged for mutual gain, where personal feelings were stripped away, leaving only the practical.
Our shared meals were the same.
They served as a sort of custom, reminding both of us that our engagement was still ongoing.
And this engagement fell apart…well, because I slapped a commoner girl.
After that incident, the crown prince, who was infuriated, lashed out, and we ended up in prison together.
How could the marriage alliance remain intact after that?
But in hindsight, I’ll admit.
"Are you not going to answer?"
"And if I am, then what?"
"Why so bold...?"
"Is it bold to skip a meal we agreed on to go meet that girl instead?"
I answered with a scoff, hands in my pockets.
I could see her flinch, but so what?
To be honest, I don’t have a good opinion of her, so I couldn’t speak kindly if I tried.
Why did I slap that girl?
Because this woman skipped a meal with me to meet her without a word, leaving me to sit at the table watching the food grow cold for over three hours.
Was I sad?
Was my heart broken?
Hell, no.
It just pissed me off.
I never felt any romantic interest in her anyway, and she knew that too.
We were just maintaining our relationship for the sake of mutual benefit.
I’d wanted to get dinner over with and go drink myself silly, but that didn’t happen, so I was fuming.
And maybe my pride was hurt by the fact that I’d been stood up for a commoner.
At the time, that was it.
Of course, hitting a woman was wrong.
I don’t expect to be forgiven for it, nor do I want to explain myself.
For a single slap, I rotted in prison long enough to pay my dues.
Besides, I already abandoned the childish, victim-complex notion that it was all her fault, or that it was because of the crown prince who threw me in prison over a single slap.
That ended in my first year behind bars.
Now, with time turned back, I simply know better.
So, I’ll act accordingly.
"Let’s not do this here. We both made mistakes… No, in our case, the bigger fault lies with you. Me slapping that commoner girl isn’t something I need to apologize to you for."
I turned my back.
"Let’s eat. I’m starving."
Looking at her irritates me.
Not because she left me.
After putting those feelings behind, there’s a deeper reason.
‘If only she’d survived…’
The reason I truly dislike her is simple.
She’s the one who brought down the Magic Tower and led to its destruction.
* * *
Most of the events I know about were told to me by my sister while I was in prison.
For that reason, I don't know the detailed inside story, only the clear-cut cause and effect.
That’s the context.
Of what happened after I was imprisoned and our engagement was annulled.
—The young lady attempted to summon a demon.
She, in the near future, attempts to summon a demon.
Right in the heart of the Magic Tower, sacrificing numerous magicians as offerings.
Of course, that kind of thing isn’t easy.
In fact, in the history of the Empire, demon summoning succeeded only once, 300 years ago.
There was no way it would work.
The summoning itself failed.
Not due to Beatrice’s lack of talent.
But because the magicians of the tower, gritting their teeth, managed to stop the demon from being summoned.
They succeeded in preventing it, but there were casualties.
The cost of protecting the tower was the annihilation of the highest-ranked magicians.
Likewise, all mid-ranked magicians also fell, succumbing to the demon’s magic corruption and dying within a year.
The exact reason Beatrice attempted such a thing is known only to her.
Whether she intended to sacrifice the magicians is also unknown.
However, it was later discovered that the demon she attempted to summon was one that enforced “favors.”
This led to speculation that the person she wanted to enforce favors on was that commoner girl.
Her true intentions were never known.
For one reason.
—The young lady took her own life.
She committed suicide after causing such a disaster.
About two weeks after she was imprisoned.
—When found, the young lady’s body was covered in self-inflicted wounds. It seemed she was mentally cornered. Was it guilt? Or…
Even my sister didn’t know Beatrice’s true intentions.
And I didn’t care.
It was just “oh, so that’s what happened.”
And then that came back to bite me during the Empire’s war.
‘If only we’d had a magic division, we wouldn’t have been so devastated.’
In other words, because of her actions, mid- and high-ranked magicians all perished.
That void was never filled, even up to the time of the war.
Magic depends more on talent than swordsmanship.
After the Magic Tower was uprooted, how could it possibly rebuild so quickly?
One of the reasons for the Empire’s strength was the knowledge and power they held.
Without it, they were like a soldier who lost an arm, and the Empire was forced to abandon many strategic means.
In the early stages of the war with the barbarians, we had no means to counter their “sorcery,” so we were at a severe disadvantage.
Even after I was released from prison, it was the same.
While the crown prince and I were less affected due to our own power, our troops were haunted by that damned sorcery.
We wouldn't have suffered so terribly if we’d had a division that could handle defensive magic.
The more that need became apparent, the more I grew to resent her with each passing day.
That’s the reason.
‘At least the crown prince took responsibility for the Empire until the end.’
This woman chose to escape through suicide.
It hasn’t happened yet.
It’s something that, if it happens, must absolutely be prevented.
But even apart from such public matters, I dislike this woman.
And that dislike is only growing as we continue to share this meal.
“…”
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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I feel her gaze.
There is not a single grain of goodwill.
It’s reassuring to know we feel the same.
I’d be glad if she finished her meal and left.
“Go on, eat. Our chef woke up early to make this because you were coming.”
“…”
“If you’re not going to eat, give it to me. It’d be a bit impolite to leave it untouched, wouldn’t it?”
Our chef is very sentimental.
If he sees untouched food, he gets a little glum, wondering if it didn’t taste good.
I can’t let her make him feel that way.
Looks like my stomach will have to put in extra work.
Just as I was about to reach for the food—
"...Do you really have nothing more to say to me?"
A hollow laugh escaped me.
The hostility in her gaze was unmistakable.
“Aren’t we engaged? While we may have come together for mutual benefit, I believe there shouldn’t be lingering resentment between us.”
"I don’t know what you mean."
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your dinner appointment. But I… … .”
Ah, I can’t listen.
"Hey."
"...Hey?"
"Yeah, you."
Honestly, I've been thinking about this for three days now.
Setting aside her strategic value, in a broader sense, do I really need this woman to accomplish my ultimate goal, the revival of Pharos?
Is she suitable to be the lady of Pharos?
‘Fuck.’
No matter how much I think about it, the answer is no.
This woman?
She’s necessary.
Her talent is undeniably great, to the point that not even the current Tower Master can counter her.
In terms of offensive capabilities, her skills are essential.
But that’s only when it comes to war.
‘I still don’t understand what makes her so amazing….’
Rebecca or whatever—what is it about her that makes all these supposedly capable people fall head over heels, panting for her?
I still don’t get it.
But there’s one thing I do know: any woman obsessed enough with some girl to hang herself over it doesn’t deserve to be the lady of Pharos.
So,
“Let’s just break off the engagement. You don’t want to marry me anyway.”
I don’t even feel the need to be polite anymore.
* * *
Beatrice had to put in considerable effort to keep her expression steady.
Ever since she stepped into the Pharos estate, she’d mostly felt one thing: bewilderment.
‘…Was he always like this?’
The crass language, the careless and inconsiderate behavior were still there, but something was different.
There was a certain depth.
She didn’t understand why she felt this way, but Yuren was clearly different from the fool she once knew.
She knew he had risen to the rank of High Minister.
Perhaps it was his new position that had changed him.
Or maybe he’d always been this way, and she simply hadn’t realized.
It was impossible to know now because Beatrice had never truly paid attention to him before.
But his words stung.
For some reason, she couldn’t shake the thought that she was making a big mistake.
But she had no intention of acknowledging that.
"Do you really mean that?"
Beatrice's expression grew colder, her icy aura subtly filling the air.
But Yuren was surprisingly unaffected.
Instead, his indifference pressured Beatrice.
"Do I look so stupid that I’d say this thoughtlessly? Or is that just what you’d like to believe?"
He wiped his mouth with a napkin as if he’d lost interest, or maybe just didn’t think it was worth discussing further.
Beatrice's fingers trembled.
His gaze, filled with distant indifference, or perhaps even contempt, seemed to carry a deeper meaning.
“Seems like not all magicians are smart. Or maybe you’re too far gone to think straight?”
“Take that back….”
“I don’t think so.”
Fwoosh—!
Suddenly, Yuren’s mana flared, and Beatrice froze.
‘…?!’
A natural affinity with mana, an innate blessing.
Her instincts told her.
His mana was sharp, almost vicious.
‘Why?’
Now, all of a sudden?
Just recently, his aura had been utterly unremarkable.
Confusion flickered through her but didn’t last long.
His words shook her to the core.
“Listen. That commoner girl? I’m not interested. Same goes for you. I only want one answer from you: yes, let’s break off the engagement. Do you know why?”
“……”
“Because you’re unworthy. You put personal feelings above Pharos’ affairs. You’re not fit to be its lady.”
Words hold different weight depending on the speaker.
Beatrice still couldn’t forget the aura she’d just sensed.
Even now, his words felt like they were chastising her, making her feel guilty.
Those words were trying to tear down one of her core beliefs.
A sense of crisis welled up.
She tried to stand, but…
“Sit down. I’m not finished.”
His voice carried an unyielding force.
It wasn’t a physical compulsion.
His overwhelming mana affinity made it feel as if she had no choice but to obey.
“…I don’t want to hear it.”
“I need to vent too. I was willing to give you a chance, just to see how you’d explain yourself. But now, what’s the point? You think you’re in charge, don’t you? Arrogant.”
Yuren leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs as he spoke.
“A little calculation would have given you the answer. That woman was more important to you than meals with me. Thanks to your foolish judgment, the Tower, your family, and I are all inconvenienced. Can’t you tell? Or is it that being that woman’s footstool is so much fun?”
A burst of anger flared up inside her.
Beatrice’s gaze turned fierce, and Yuren clicked his tongue.
“I don’t care if you enjoy dalliances with other women, but you should at least have a sense of priorities.”
“Take that back.”
It wasn’t some romantic attraction.
What Beatrice felt for Rebecca was something far beyond love or lust.
It was an unchanging feeling with a value beyond ordinary measures.
Yes.
She’d set aside all public responsibilities and caused a mess, but Rebecca was worth it.
The fulfillment only Rebecca could provide was a type of satisfaction that no wealth, honor, or power could replace.
At least Beatrice believed this with conviction.
She couldn’t bear him insulting Rebecca, so she refuted him.
But it was in vain.
"Pathetic."
Yuren rose from his seat, his gaze dull.
Beatrice once again felt like a sinner.
What should she call this feeling?
"His Highness is one thing… but you’re even worse. At least he pretended to listen."
His eyes looked at her as if she were a mere stone by the roadside, unsettling her.
Beatrice pressed her lips together, following him with her gaze.
But he no longer looked at her.
“Tch, how do I smooth things over with the chef?”
He muttered, picking at his food.
Then he said,
“Go. I’ll proceed with the annulment, so keep that in mind… Oh, and one more thing.”
His next words sent a shiver down Beatrice’s spine.
“Stop with the stupid stunts. Cleaning up after you is a hassle.”
They were passing words, but they struck deeply for a reason.
‘…Does he know?’
It was because she had something to hide.
The uneasy suspicion that he might know something about her plans.
“What are you waiting for? Get out.”
Beatrice felt utterly confused.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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