The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master [Novel] Chapter 22

The truth was, she’d noticed the man was lying the moment she spotted his worn-out shoes.

Given that he’d been separated from his attendant, he was clearly nobility — and it made no sense for a man of high birth, so frail he could barely walk, to have shoes that were scuffed and threadbare.

‘Then he must have had an ulterior motive for approaching us.’

Judging by Rien’s unusual reaction and the way the man had volunteered to support him, it wasn’t hard to guess that he was either Rien’s subordinate or colleague.

But what good would it do to interrogate every little detail?

Sometimes you had to play the fool.

‘If he’s bold enough to show up openly, it must be urgent.’

This might take a while. With that thought, Cecilia plodded off toward the shade.

The instant they turned onto a deserted path, out of Cecilia’s line of sight, Rien dropped the body he’d been propping up.

The man crumpled pitifully to the ground with a soft groan.

“Ugh, I think something’s actually broken…”

“You must really want a chronic condition.”

“Surely not.”

As if he’d never fallen, the man sprang to his feet.

Hiltein brushed off his clothes — thoroughly wrecked from all the rolling around — and stole a glance at his superior’s mood.

He knew perfectly well what his superior hated.

Being bothered. And having his orders disobeyed.

And right now, Hiltein was bothering him after disobeying the order not to come.

Sure enough, the pressure radiating from the man grew rougher and heavier, his displeasure palpable.

“…Hiltein.”

“Yes.”

“D-did I ever give you permission to follow me all the way here?”

The halting speech he affected, the inexplicable black robe, even the enormous plush tucked under one arm — all of it was absurd beyond measure.

And yet, meeting those still violet eyes sent a chill crawling up his spine.

Hiltein stumbled back a step without meaning to and bowed his head deeply.

“I’m sorry.”

The nerve that had swelled so boldly when he’d waltzed up in front of the saintess and his superior had shriveled to nothing — but appearances aside, he was the closest aide to the Magic Tower Master, a man shrouded in horror stories.

Feeling like a hand was around his throat, Hiltein pressed on.

“If you dislike me chasing you down like this, all you have to do is come back to the Tower.”

“…”

“No — I humbly implore you to return. Matters requiring the Tower Master’s approval have piled up like a mountain.”

If his colleagues had heard, they’d have gasped and asked if overwork had finally driven him mad — it was that insolent.

But at this rate, whether he died at his superior’s hand or from being worked to death, an early grave was certain either way.

So even if he dropped dead on this very road, he had to say what needed saying.

Yet even in the face of such insubordination, his superior merely furrowed his brow as though it were all just tiresome.

“Y-you should just be the Tower Master yourself.”

“May I submit my resignation right now?”

Hiltein fumbled out the resignation letter he always kept tucked against his chest. The moment he produced it, it burst into flame and vanished.

“…Life.”

His last hope gone, Hiltein slumped his shoulders in defeat.

His cold-hearted superior left him there without a glance, gaze drifting toward somewhere else entirely.

It was roughly the same direction they’d come from.

If he looked a little anxious, surely that was just imagination.

‘No way.’

Shaking off the delusion, Hiltein got straight to the point.

“There’s a matter I needed to deliver urgently, so I took the liberty of coming despite the imposition.”

“…An urgent matter?”

“Yes. Duke Dillanché has discovered that you’re in Weberdin.”

Dillanché.

At those three syllables, an irritated sigh escaped his superior immediately.

Rien dragged a rough hand down his face and parted his lips with visible agitation.

“Then this is simple. Tell them I’ll handle things here myself, so they can stop paying attention.”

And not to try anything funny.

The addendum came in a voice incomparably more sinister than before.

Hiltein, a shade paler now, nodded wordlessly.

Most unfortunately, while his superior’s mood was plunging to untold depths, one more piece of bad news remained.

“And there’s one more person who’s figured out your location.”

“…So it seems.”

Rien, brow pinched tight at last, cast his gaze past Hiltein’s back.

“Come out.”

The truth was, he’d been sensing an irritating presence nearby ever since he’d been walking through the festival with Cecilia.

No sooner had Rien’s cold command cut the air than a small figure appeared from around the corner.

“Hehe, busted.”

It was a boy of about five.

Walking with the unnatural gait of a puppet on strings, the child had dark, murky magic circles drawn across his cheeks and forehead — visible only to mages.

“Hey, Rien. How’ve you been?”

The boy rolled his unfocused eyes and smirked.

“That magic… I t-told you to stop because it’s unsettling.”

“Can’t help it. You locked me up tight in the Tower and left, so I can’t exactly come in person, can I? Besides, this magic doesn’t harm the host’s body.”

The boy shrugged with exaggerated flair.

“Anyway, what’s with that ridiculous way of talking? I heard you’ve been acting a bit insane lately, but I never thought it was actually true!”

Rien silently turned his gaze on Hiltein beside him.

Hiltein flinched and, for no particular reason, sidled closer to the child.

“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes today, I’d never have believed it! You, blushing and smiling? I almost screamed, it was so creepy!”

“…”

“So what game are you playing? Don’t tell me — you’ve finally awakened to the beauty of women?”

“Enough with the non—”

“Happy news, but of all people the saintess? That’s a bit twisted, isn’t it…”

“Asilien Chetwynd.”

The chattering boy snapped his mouth shut.

Rien’s face, which had held nothing but weariness and contempt, was frozen terrifyingly cold.

“Okay, okay! Don’t make that face! You’re genuinely terrifying!”

The startled boy — no, ‘Asilien’—shrieked.

“I lend you my name, I even stand in as Tower Master for you, and this is how you treat me.”

Asilien was truly heartless, wasn’t he, the boy grumbled at Hiltein.

But three syllables, uttered with dark menace, cut the complaints short.

“Business only.”

“Would it kill you to talk nicely — ah, fine! I’ll just report!”

“…”

“Your subordinates and I have been keeping watch on the ‘place’ you mentioned, but there’s been no notable movement. Apparently it’s nearly impossible even to get close.”

As if he’d anticipated the result, Rien showed no particular disappointment.

The boy shook his head slowly, then continued with a faint sigh.

“So when are you coming back? Pretending to be you is only fun once or twice — the old fogies in the Tower have probably caught on already.”

“…Soon.”

Rien’s gaze lingered on the plush in his hand.

He thought of the woman waiting for him not far from here.

The person who had accepted him — not the gardener — as a friend. The person who had tolerated him even knowing he was the head of all mages.

Unlike ‘that person,’ who had sneered, cursed him to get lost, and never spared him a single glance — she had extended her hand to him, smiled at him, placed a gift in his arms.

But he was well aware that was only because she knew him as ‘Asilien Chetwynd.’

‘If she learns my real name, then no longer…’

So before this brief reprieve ended, he had to accomplish his original purpose.

Even if that meant deceiving her to the very end and walking back to where he’d started on his own two feet.

“Is that the end of the report?”

“Ah, I’ve got one personal piece of advice left. You know, if you really want to make a woman happy, instead of bundling up like that, you need to boldly strip—!”

Before the long string of nonsense could finish, Rien flicked his hand through the air.

The magic circles inscribed on the child vanished cleanly.

Blink. The boy opened his eyes, and focus had returned to them.

Why was he standing alone in the middle of the road? After tilting his head in confusion, the child dashed off into the crowd.

Hiltein watched the small retreating back as the boy rejoined his friends, then spoke up.

“Lastly — the item you requested is complete.”

Perhaps pleased by the declaration of return, Hiltein’s expression had brightened considerably as he produced a palm-sized box from inside his coat and offered it.

Rien accepted the box and clicked the lid open.

Inside lay a necklace set with an amber gemstone that perfectly matched someone’s eyes, resting neatly in place.

“As you ordered, magical traces have been minimized. Most likely even the Pope won’t notice.”

That had been one of the reasons Hiltein had ended up looking like an invalid.

Apparently it passed inspection — Rien plucked out only the necklace and shoved it into his pocket.

“Then I’ll be waiting in the capital.”

Only after Hiltein, too, had obediently withdrawn did Rien check the time.

More had passed than he’d expected.

He was just taking an urgent step forward when—

“I heard the saintess is over there?”

“Really? Come on, let’s go see!”

Saintess. Those two syllables snagged in his ears, and his expression went rigid.

A sudden, faint breeze stirred — and where he’d stood, not even his shadow remained.