Chapter 33

With a sip of coffee, Erhen turned to look at Charlotte, who was resting her chin on her hand and staring at him. He asked,

“Magic?”

They were enjoying a private tea time together in the greenhouse. The gentle aroma of flowers and the sweet scent of coffee lingered softly between them. Charlotte blinked a couple of times and asked again,

“Yes, I was wondering—what does magic mean to you, Duke?”

“That’s quite a profound question.”

“What? Are you telling me that the most renowned mage in Rohadin has never thought about something so basic?”

“Maybe it’s because I was born a mage and have lived as one my entire life. Magic feels so natural to me.”

Erhen hummed thoughtfully, then turned his gaze away and took another sip of coffee. Charlotte watched him, lost in her thoughts.

According to the Arbiter, one of the trials awaiting Michael, the protagonist of this world, was the disappearance of magic following Erhen’s death. In reality, Erhen was the last mage born on the continent. He was also known as the “Greatest Mage of Rohadin,” a title that marked him as the most powerful mage on the continent.

The last mage born into this world, and the one with the greatest magical power—wasn’t that akin to a supernova in astronomical terms? The final explosion of a star, emitting the brightest light.

When Charlotte had read the original story in her previous life, this particular detail hadn’t seemed all that significant. It was just one of the many fascinating traits of a supporting character close to the protagonist. But now, that favorite character had become the man she loved. And after hearing about the fate of this world from the Arbiter, Charlotte couldn’t help but be curious.

Eventually, Erhen broke the silence.

“My reason for existence.”

“Ah, that’s… that’s so philosophical.”

Charlotte’s chin slipped from her hand in surprise.

Did the Arbiter secretly take over the Duke’s body? How could he give such a textbook answer that aligned so perfectly with the world’s setting? 

Charlotte stammered, flustered by Erhen’s response, which felt as though he had read her mind and the original story’s background. Amused by her reaction, Erhen, his blue eyes sparkling, added with a light laugh,

“It’s not so much philosophical as it reflects the life I’ve lived.”

For Erhen, magic was indeed life itself.

Born as the last mage in an era where magic was fading, his magical abilities manifested at the age of eight. Despite his parents’ and older brother’s objections, he joined the Empire’s research institute as its youngest researcher to earn funding for his impoverished family. Later, after receiving the title of Marquis, he used his position to become Michael’s shield.

Of course, there were additional conditions that came with being the perfect shield for the king, but the foundation of it all was magic.

Charlotte tilted her head at his words and said,

“Life? Hmm. So, you’re saying magic is everything to you, Erhen.”

Having a rough understanding of Erhen’s life from the original story, Charlotte nodded, interpreting his words at face value.

“Everything… At one time, yes.”

Indeed, there was a time when Erhen thought magic was everything. Without magic, he wouldn’t have been able to support his family from a young age or honor the wishes of his late brother, Maximilian.

But at some point, his “everything” had shifted…

Erhen’s gaze lingered on Charlotte, who was looking at him with a playful expression. Meeting his eyes, her cheeks flushed as she spoke,

“In a way, your answer is fitting for the Greatest Mage of Rohadin. It’s impressive.”

“Impressive?”

“Yes, very much so.”

Charlotte beamed at him, her smile as radiant as ever.

Pleased with her candid response, Erhen reached for her hand and gently pulled it toward him. When Charlotte looked at him questioningly, he placed a small white scrap of paper, originally meant for notes, into her palm.

As her gaze fell to her hand, the paper began folding itself. Before long, it transformed into a delicate white paper rose.

It was a mesmerizing sight, initiated without the usual finger snap or incantation often associated with the magic of the Duke of Rosenheim. Charlotte’s eyes sparkled with wonder as she stared at the man before her.

Erhen spoke.

“You’re beautiful, too.”

He smiled at her, his everything.

***

The solitary confinement cell, devoid of light, exuded a desolate and chilling atmosphere. The rusted red iron door, the only entrance, stood ajar.

In the corner of the cramped cell, barely large enough for one person to lie down, lay Dostern. His body, twisted in a grotesque posture, was sprawled on the blood-soaked bed. Foam tinged with blood bubbled from his mouth. The stench of blood hung thick in the air as three coroners conducted their investigation around his corpse.

As the silent investigation continued, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed from outside. Soon, their king, Michael, entered the room. Everyone inside, including the coroners, immediately stood to greet the sovereign of Rohadin.

Standing at the center, the warden of the Augs Prison, Haiman, spoke.

“Your Majesty.”

“No need for formalities. Continue the autopsy.”

Michael raised a hand, cutting off Haiman’s words.

At the king’s command, the coroners quickly returned to their tasks.

“What happened?”

Michael’s gaze swept over the grim scene as he questioned. Haiman began his report, skipping any pleasantries.

“There were no signs of health issues with Dostern. None of the guards on duty abandoned their posts. Everything seemed normal until dawn. However, during breakfast, he was found dead, having coughed up blood.”

Michael frowned, rubbing his forehead in irritation.

Captured at the Earl of Friesland’s estate thanks to Charlotte and Erhen’s plan, Dostern and his cohorts had been transferred to Augs Prison, a facility for high-security criminals, after undergoing initial questioning. Dostern, considered the leader of the group, was scheduled to be transferred to the royal prison that evening for direct interrogation by the king himself. According to the reports, Dostern had claimed full responsibility for the entire operation.

Yet, that very morning, Dostern had been discovered dead.

“And on the wall, there’s this inscription…”

Haiman’s words directed Michael’s attention to the wall beside the bed. On the dingy, stained surface, a phrase written in blood stood out. Michael read it aloud in a low voice.

“For the freedom of the people…”

As Michael murmured, Roberta, another subordinate of Erhen’s who had been standing by, stepped forward. She reported,

“Those who followed Dostern continue to claim they know nothing, insisting they were merely ordered to wait outside the Earl’s estate.”

“They’ve cut off the tail quite thoroughly.”

Michael’s words rang true.

It was obvious that Dostern’s claim of orchestrating everything alone was a lie. None of the other captured individuals had any apparent connection to him. As a pastry chef by trade, Dostern’s ties to his collaborators were tenuous at best. This suggested the involvement of external accomplices beyond Dostern himself.

Moreover, the fact that he had taken all the blame and supposedly committed suicide with poison raised further questions. A thorough body search had been conducted, making it impossible for Dostern to suddenly produce poison. And he wasn’t a mage capable of summoning such substances either.

Roberta continued,

“Not necessarily. According to a report from the Duke of Rosenheim this morning, there are records of this man’s activities in Singred.”

“The Duke of Rosenheim?”

“Yes. He has been sending daily reports from Heringen.”

“I told him to take a proper break after the Vigraz Research Institute incident.”

“…”

“Well, the Duke has never been one to follow my orders. Honestly, it’s hard to tell who’s the king and who’s the vassal.”

“Ha, ha.”

Roberta laughed awkwardly at Michael’s good-natured jab at Erhen.

She had hoped for some respite during her superior’s leave, but that had proven to be wishful thinking. Even on vacation, he reviewed the investigation team’s daily reports and sent back analyses. Had she known this, she wouldn’t have bothered hoping for any reprieve.

Her silent complaints were drowned out by her awkward laughter.

“If he’s so eager to work, I’ll make it official. I’m rescinding my previous order and ending the Duke of Rosenheim’s leave.”

Michael nodded, as if to acknowledge both her struggles and his decision.

“I’m ordering the Duke of Rosenheim to return to the capital from Heringen.”

It was a statement that marked the end of the happy days Charlotte and Erhen had been enjoying in Heringen.