The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master [Novel] Chapter 39

“Oh, and I know it’s late, but thank you for saving me.”

“Not at all. If you hadn’t climbed back up under your own power, Saintess, I wouldn’t have even had the chance. I swore I would protect you no matter what… I’m sorry.”

As he bowed his head deeply, his fine silver hair slid forward.

‘I didn’t expect an apology in return for a thank-you.’

Cecilia stared, flustered, at the top of the man’s unfailingly courteous head.

If one thought about it, the mere fact that she’d fallen into the lake could easily raise doubts about whether she truly qualified as the Saintess.

Yet his manner remained as polite and gentle as ever.

As though he had never harbored even a sliver of distrust.

“I understand that after such an incident, it must be difficult to place your trust in us. But I swear that for the remainder of this journey, I will ensure no threat reaches you.”

Cecilia studied his unwavering eyes and the firm set of his lips for a long time.

Inside them, she found nothing but steadfast faith and tender consideration.

If this was the kind of knight who devoted himself so wholly to the Saintess—

‘Maybe it’s all right to trust him?’

More than anything, Miguel was the one who had saved her.

In the end, the fence of wariness she had erected around her heart after the incident quietly lowered.

“All right.”

She couldn’t trust Miguel completely as long as the culprit remained unidentified, but she resolved to believe, at least, in the solid promise he’d offered.

“I’ll trust you.”

Cecilia answered lightly, deliberately affecting cheer.

Miguel, who could not begin to guess how weighty the word “trust” was, coming so casually from her lips, curved his mouth into a soft smile.

“Yes. I will do my utmost to be worthy of the Saintess’s faith.”

Visibly overjoyed, he sprang to his feet with renewed vigor. Then he promptly found himself an errand to run.

“In that case, let me start by fetching something light to eat.”

“What? No, that’s not—!”

‘I didn’t mean for him to wait on me.’

But by the time she could protest, he was already well out of reach.

‘Ah, forget it. I’ll just rest.’

She couldn’t afford to be bedridden from day one, so she decided to focus on recovering her strength.

Cecilia leaned her head back against the rough surface of the tree trunk and drew a deep breath.

She breathed in the crisp air and let it out, repeating the cycle several times.

Then she sensed someone nearby.

‘That was fast.’

Assuming it must be Sir Miguel, back already, Cecilia lifted her eyelids.

In that instant, a warm hand swept in and touched her forehead.

Smack!

The moment she registered who it was, she swatted the hand away before she could think.

The owner of that warmth was Rien, who had been hovering close by all along.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You startled me a little…”

“I-I thought you were breaking out in a cold sweat, so I was going to wipe it for you…”

Just as he said, a white handkerchief was clutched in Rien’s hand.

“I-I’m sorry for startling you.”

His voice trembled pitifully as he curled his fingers tight around the handkerchief.

‘Was I too harsh?’

The thought that her reaction might have deeply wounded the fragile man’s heart sent guilt creeping slowly upward.

Cecilia lightly scrunched the corners of her eyes and shook her head.

“No, I think I overreacted because I’m tired.”

“Are you very tired? Oh… so that’s why you needed someone to support you earlier.”

He murmured blankly, then suddenly knelt before her.

“If it’s a matter of recovering your strength, I-I can help too. No — I can help better than anyone.”

Rien’s large shadow fell over her as if about to engulf her. As he leaned in close, she caught the scent of warm sunlight and fresh-cut grass.

Her breath thinned.

“Better than that knight.”

He added in a voice gone low and rough.

Beneath the shadow of his robe, those violet eyes had darkened, and surely it was only her imagination that they looked a touch unhinged.

She tried to draw back, but she was already pinned — Rien in front of her, the tree at her back, with nowhere to go.

Helplessly pressing her spine flat against the trunk, she watched as Rien extended his hand slowly, carefully, like a handler calming a wild animal.

His straight, pale fingers grazed her hair and came to rest against the shell of her ear. Her shoulders flinched, and in that moment he spoke quietly.

“I’ll cast a spell to help with the dizziness.”

All that tension for nothing — it was only concern, after all. He looked the same as always, and Cecilia let her shoulders drop.

“I’m fine.”

Thanks to receiving holy power from Sir Miguel, her condition had improved considerably.

Besides, using magic in a place with this many eyes? It would be as good as advertising that her tutor was secretly a mage.

Lowering her voice as much as possible, Cecilia whispered gravely.

“If you use magic here, people might find out what you really are.”

“They won’t.”

Despite her worry, he answered with quiet confidence — and cast the spell anyway.

It wasn’t mere bluster; the holy knights recognized that the person who had approached the Saintess was the tutor personally introduced by the Marquis, and they lost interest at once.

“See?”

He murmured gently, his fingers skimming the shell of her ear before drifting down to trace her earlobe.

The subtle contact made her body stiffen involuntarily.

Dizziness was related to the vestibular system inside the ear, so placing his hand directly there to cast the spell was understandable enough, but…

‘Isn’t this taking too long?’

The unfamiliar warmth that had settled over her like a gentle breeze had dissipated ages ago, yet he did not withdraw his hand.

If anything, his fingers migrated from her ear to her rounded cheek, moving slowly — something between cupping and caressing.

The sensation where skin met skin was so achingly vivid. Those violet eyes lingering heavily on her, the beautiful face drawn even closer — every part of him was binding her in place.

So that she could neither refuse him nor doubt him.

At this rate, her dizziness would only worsen, not improve.

In the end, having decided that if she couldn’t endure it she would flee, Cecilia placed her hand against his chest. She meant to push him away. But she froze, slack and stunned, without exerting an ounce of force.

Thump-thump.

Beneath her palm, his heart was pounding savagely — unmistakably, nakedly real.

‘You can’t fake a heartbeat.’

If the emotions he had shown her were not lies. If that blind gaze, as though she were the only person in existence — if these desperate touches, as though being even slightly apart would kill him — if even the violent response of his heart was all true. Then…

‘But to trust Rien completely…’

Her thoughts plunged into chaos as suddenly as spilled ink.

Rien, who had been watching every shameful flicker of that turmoil, laid his hand over hers where it rested on his chest.

“Cecilia.”

“Y-yes?”

“Do you remember what you said to me beneath the great tree?”

His voice was low and hushed, barely more than a whisper.

An unexpected question. No — in truth, she had always known he would raise it someday.

She just hadn’t expected it to be now.

[Rien.]

[Yes.]

[I think I like you. No — I like you.]

Cecilia recalled that summer day, whole and perfect.

With it came the tenacious chirping of insects that had survived into the season, the sound of wind brushing through leaves, and the beat of someone’s heart — surely audible only to her — all vivid again.

As though she had slipped back to that very moment.

But things could not be as they were before. They simply couldn’t.

When she recalled the terror and pain of ice-cold water flooding her nose and mouth, of sinking endlessly into lightless depths, her head cleared and the surging impulse died away.

“…I’m not sure. I said so many things.”

“You said we would talk again after the Relief Festival, once we returned to the estate.”

‘Of course.’

So that was why he had brought up that day so suddenly.

“That was…”

As long as she couldn’t be certain of his innocence, the plan to confess again in the daisy field had long since vanished.

Should she deflect? Or offer some graceless excuse — that she’d meant she liked him as a person?

While she deliberated, she spotted Sir Miguel returning in the distance.

Cecilia shook off his sweat-dampened hand and shot to her feet.

“Sir Miguel is back! He went to get my snack, so I-I should go.”

“Ah…”

His large hand dropped limply to the ground. The wildflower smile that had been spreading across his face withered, and his pretty lips pressed together as though bitten back.

She walked past him, and even as she put distance between them, she could feel his gaze clinging to her, following.

But Cecilia never once looked back. She kept walking, steadfast and forward.

Until she was far enough from his line of sight that she could no longer feel his eyes on her.

Onward.