The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master [Novel] Chapter 12

The spark of suspicion was easily snuffed out.

She hadn’t seen the inside of the prayer room, so it was possible even more debris had been scattered in there than outside.

If not that, there might have been a secondary impact inside.

Nox said he’d look into the situation, so I can just ask him then.

By the time she’d finally shaken off that nagging unease, they had reached the main gate. Cecilia spotted the Weberdin knights and the coachman waiting in front of the Holy Temple entrance.

Here was her chance to end this awkward companionship.

She quickly turned to the holy knight with a farewell.

“You don’t have to escort me any farther than this.”

“I’d like to see you off safely.”

“The Weberdin knights are here in full force, as you can see. Thank you for escorting me today.”

At her courteous refusal, Miguel reluctantly nodded.

“Then I shall look forward to the day we meet again. Saintess.”

Rather than kissing the lady’s hand as most knights would, Miguel placed his hand over his own chest and bowed in silence. It was the holy knights’ way of greeting.

Once the man had finished his restrained farewell and withdrawn, Cecilia turned to face the knights as if she’d been waiting for exactly this.

“The task I asked about?”

“We found him.”

From between the burly knights, a man — hunched as small as he could make himself — shuffled hesitantly forward.

His build rivaled the knights’ in size, yet that awkward posture, and that familiar robe…

“Rien.”

When she called his name, the robed man flinched and lifted his head. That beautiful face, one she never tired of no matter how many times she saw it, was gently revealed.

[Please find and detain the robed man among the departing worshippers.]

She had secretly given that order to the house knights who had rushed over after hearing news of the incident.

Knowing Rien’s personality, he wouldn’t have left first — he’d be too worried about my condition. And the only person wandering around the sacred Holy Temple swathed in a pitch-black robe would be Rien.

Seeing him caught like this, her prediction had been rather spot-on.

“Lady Cecilia.”

Like a child who’d done something wrong, he fidgeted with the hem of his robe.

She’d wanted to ask him why he’d been at the Holy Temple, why he’d been there of all places, when they met.

But his words came faster than her question.

“A-are you hurt anywhere…?!”

“As you can see, I’m fine.”

She returned what felt like the hundredth repetition of that line.

Even after hearing her answer, he couldn’t shake his anxiety. He scanned her thoroughly — hair, face, shoulders, waist and hands, legs, and finally all the way down to her feet — before his shoulders finally drooped.

Thank goodness. She pretended not to hear his low murmur and spoke.

“More importantly, what brings you to the Holy Temple, Rien?”

“Well, that’s…”

It was pure curiosity, not even an accusatory tone. And yet his head began to sink, slowly, steadily downward.

“Rien?”

“……”

Cecilia, who had been waiting patiently for his answer, let out a small sigh. She’d long since run out of stamina to keep standing in the middle of the road like this.

She walked past him and climbed into the carriage. Then she turned to him, still standing there in a daze, and asked.

“Aren’t you getting in?”

Mercifully, that particular offer didn’t seem to trouble him much — Rien scrambled into the carriage in a fluster.

Once he’d taken his seat across from her, the carriage lurched into motion.

“Rien.”

His shoulders were still rigid with tension. Cecilia studied the violet eyes beyond the silver-rimmed glasses — eyes churning like a small boat before a squall.

Judging by his behavior, he definitely didn’t just happen to be sightseeing and run into me by coincidence.

“I wasn’t expecting to run into you at the Holy Temple, but just in case — you didn’t follow me here, did you?”

It was half a joke.

But the man had gone white. He pinched his smooth brow together, bit down on his lower lip, and clenched his miserably trembling hands into fists.

“I-it’s not like that. I would absolutely never follow you or do anything to make you uncomfortable, Lady Cecilia! I just heard the Grand Temple was nearby and thought it might be nice to have a look… I won’t pretend I didn’t know you were visiting, but, what I mean is, I…”

The reaction was more intense than she’d expected. Cecilia gently wrapped her hands around his.

“I’m not scolding you.”

“…You’re not upset that I acted so appallingly?”

His long lashes fluttered, pitifully.

Had a former lover — or a first love — verbally torn him apart? She’d already thought of him as someone with low self-esteem, but this was severe.

Cecilia rubbed her forehead roughly with the back of her hand. She weighed her words over and over, and in the end simply let one unadorned thought drop.

“No. What I was trying to say is just that it would’ve been nice if you’d asked to come along.”

“…Would I really be allowed to accompany you?”

Rien asked with the desperation of an abandoned puppy.

This is serious. Really serious.

His rock-bottom self-esteem was one thing, but her own composure crumbling in the face of it was hardly normal either.

Still, better than some stuck-up jerk with a terrible personality, I suppose.

She’d always had a weakness for soft and endearing things.

Having shaken off even that last trace of reluctance, Cecilia willingly affirmed — for the sake of a man who clearly needed plenty of reassurance and praise.

“Of course.”

She even put on a deliberate little smile. At that, the man who’d had his lips slightly parted flushed a deep red across his cheeks.

“So it’s really all right.”

Murmuring this, he turned the hand that had been resting beneath hers and quietly laced their fingers together. Then, like a well-fed puppy, his eyes curved in contentment.

That smile was dangerously potent.

Nearly blinded again.

The visual stimulation had been excessive today. Making a mental note to ask Melanie for an eye compress once she got home, she continued her questions.

“It looked like you came out of the prayer room — were you attending a service?”

“Oh, …yes.”

“You said you’re from the capital. Do you believe in God?”

That was unexpected.

In this country, believing in God meant you served God rather than the Emperor. In other words, it meant you stood opposed to the Emperor’s faction.

The palm that had warmed to match her temperature slipped away. Rien, his gaze likewise dropping to the floor, nodded without a word.

“Hmm, is that so? Then next time I visit the Holy Temple, we can just go together.”

“Y-yes!”

The voice that answered was flushed with excitement.

Cecilia let out a quiet huff of laughter and turned her gaze to the window.

Over the passing scenery, she quietly studied the man faintly reflected in the glass.

He seemed overjoyed at her suggestion — the line of his lips had softened into ease. In contrast, Cecilia’s own mouth had already returned to its neutral set.

He says he believes in God.

Liar.

There was no way.

Because Rien was a mage.

Once, she’d had a colleague who was being driven mad by an endless loop of repeated experiments. She’d told them that all mental stress originated from hormones and neurotransmitters and recommended something like a serotonin supplement.

[Can the T please just shut up and go away.]

She was promptly told off by said colleague.

If only she’d known back then that there was a cheaper treatment with far superior efficacy.

If she had, her colleague wouldn’t have scraped together what little money they had for a psychiatrist, and she wouldn’t have been cursed out for recommending medication that didn’t work.

In the Marquis’s study, the entire Weberdin household assembled.

Cecilia, with Charles perched on her lap — having trotted after her — was experiencing firsthand the true greatness of animal therapy.

The toasty warmth, the rough little tongue lapping at her fingertips, and the soft fur.

“This is outrageous!”

Even with the Marquis right in front of her, face flushed red and seething, she could remain calm.

“Inside the Holy Temple, of all places — and an incident targeting Cecilia, no less! Those Dillanché bastards must be behind this!”

The Marquis hurled the newspaper he’d been clutching onto the table.

The Marquis, who normally appeared so composed, had a boiling point that dropped conspicuously low at certain moments. Namely, whenever the Imperial House and its lackeys came up.

Dillanché.

Cecilia rolled the familiar house name over in her mind at a leisurely pace.

She easily recalled one of her lessons with Rien.

[There are currently two prominent magical families in the Empire.]

[Magical families?]

[Yes. If the holy family of Weberdin is the Holy Temple’s steadfast backer, then the magical family of House Dillanché is the Imperial House’s right hand.]

Cecilia recalled something the Marquis had said at a luncheon some time ago.

[Just thinking about those Dillanché scum running amok gives me a headache already.]

At the time, the Marquis hadn’t bothered to conceal his hostility toward Dillanché.

All of this information pointed to one thing: Dillanché was Weberdin’s primary adversary.

That would also be the basis for the Marquis’s suspicion that Dillanché was behind the incident.

When the Marquis, who had returned to the estate after wrapping up urgent business, heard about his daughter’s accident, he’d apparently already made up his mind.

This was no mere accident. It was surely a scheme orchestrated by Dillanché.

Whether his faith in the Holy Temple ran too deep or his animosity toward Dillanché ran too strong, she couldn’t say.

In truth, the answer was already decided regardless.

Nox, who had been watching his father’s fury with perfect composure — even without the aid of a Charles — countered the Marquis’s claim.