Chapter 9.2

“You don’t need to worry about anyone noticing. I’m the only mage active in the capital’s socialite scene.”

The rest of his colleagues—mages raised in the Tower like himself—were all too eccentric or reclusive to leave their cloisters.

“In any case, if you don’t wish to rely on the heir apparent, you can seek someone else… but without a similar method, it will be difficult to receive mana.”

He could, technically, provide some assistance for medical purposes… but he doubted it would end very well.

The day he’d visited the Rensier estate, Alec had infused a small amount of mana into the back of Rosaline’s hand as a bit of emergency aid, driven as much by scientific curiosity as by genuine concern.

And today, Rosaline Rensier had arrived at the banquet ball with her entire face softly glowing.

Considering how Synox Aphlenta had reacted, perhaps that outcome was inevitable.

* * *

That day had been Alec’s first deployment in a civilian rescue mission.

Normally, mages of the Tower lived as if a treaty of non-interference existed between them and the outside world.

Unless it was something that endangered national security, such as war, plague, or natural disaster, they never got involved, bound by their contract with the state. Which meant that most of the time, they didn’t care if people lived or died.

Unless something extraordinary happened.

In Alec’s case, it had been the Crown Prince’s direct command. One of his most important sponsors, while Alec was working as an Imperial Mage.

The crown prince had appointed him as a temporary investigator for the incident, saying,

“I’d rather not give Count Rensier any reason to feel disappointed.”

Given that the Rensiers were one of the wealthiest houses with a very thick coin purse, Alec had gone to the estate himself. And just before crossing the threshold of their gates, he encountered Synox.

Synox Aphlenta.

The son who had inherited not only the name but the formidable talent of Lexer Aphlenta, a mage renowned for his mastery of time and mind magic.

In the academic world of magic, Lexer was nothing short of a legend.

Within the Tower, countless mages would have gladly sacrificed a finger, or perhaps even more, just for a fleeting glimpse into Lexer’s private laboratory.

When Lexer suddenly passed away, a wave of interest surged over his legacy. Many mages cast greedy eyes on what he left behind.

Some were even willing to attack his son to get it.

But not even six months passed before they all abandoned the chase. Those who had dared pursue Lexer’s legacy—those who’d gotten as far as reaching Synox Aphlenta—returned having forgotten everything they had ever researched.

Before the Tower became filled with acquired fools, Niradne, the Archmage who had long ruled over the capital and was heir to the Tower, personally visited Synox.

No one knows what was exchanged between the aging mage and the newly-of-age prodigy.

Only one thing was publicly announced that day.

Niradne’s proclamation.

[No mage of the Magic Tower shall covet the legacy of Lexer Aphlenta.]

Since then, no more mages had returned from Synox’s presence as fools, but within the Tower, Synox Aphlenta remained a dangerous figure.

It didn’t matter how many glowing rumors followed him outside the Tower, or that he’d been formally designated the successor. That truth remained unchanged.

To say Alec wasn’t curious about such a man would’ve been a lie.

But Synox had not spared him a single glance.

“Head west and Retrieve Miss Rosaline Rensier.”

That was the only thing Synox said to Alec.

The next time Alec saw him again was just as he was carrying the rescued hostage in his arms.

“Rosaline.”

The man arrived in the shortest time possible from the other hostage site, his face ashen.

“Rosaline Rensier.”

Synox whispered her name like it was a question he didn’t want answered.

He caressed her face as if to check she was real, his fingers trembling like the claws of a beast too afraid of harming the fragile creature beneath him. Those same hands, Alec knew, had incinerated centuries of magical research without blinking.

And yet, upon Rosaline’s cheek, those hands trembled with terror. It made no sense. It was impossible. But Alec saw it clearly, etched onto the breathtaking face of a mage more beautiful than any mortal should be.

Fear.

A mage becomes far more dangerous when terrified than when angry.

Thus, Alec had been on high alert for some time, ready to report to Niradne the moment the capital showed any signs of going up in flames.

Thankfully, the second daughter of the Rensier family had been safely returned, and the capital—the source of most of Alec’s research funding—remained intact.

…Even if Rosaline Rensier had returned soaked in the magic of the Tower’s successor.

That was why Alec wanted to avoid any relationship beyond simple friendship with her.

He wanted to preserve his research journals, to one day pass them down to the Tower. And he had no desire to become a glittering corpse, drenched in someone else’s magic.

Still, he couldn’t quite smother his curiosity.

“Miss Rensier, among the symptoms you’ve experienced recently—”

Just as Alec was trying to gather more information in Synox’s absence, someone called out from the balcony.

“Sir Alec, please return now! His Highness the Crown Prince is asking for you!”

The Crown Prince had invested a small fortune in Alec. Some joked that Alec alone accounted for half of the crown prince’s budget for courtly splendor.

Such a patron demanded priority.

Alec raised his hand toward the voice above.

“I’ll be right up!”

For now, it seemed he would have to postpone further conversation with Miss Rosaline Rensier.