The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master [Novel] Chapter 13

“I investigated personally, and there were no traces of magic. On top of that, the building manager confessed it had been quite some time since any structural maintenance was done.”

In short, it really had been an unfortunate accident.

“That can’t be!”

“No matter how bold Dillanché may be, even they wouldn’t dare pull something inside the Grand Temple. You know that better than anyone, Father.”

Nox added the pointed remark with effortless nonchalance.

Faced with a truth he could not deny, the Marquis’s face crumpled.

Before the two men’s futile argument could drag on any longer, Cecilia casually spoke up.

“By the way, about that bird. Did it fly in from outside and hit the glass?”

“Hard to say. The second prayer room happened to be empty at the time. They said the bird was found on the outside of the building, though. Why, is it important?”

“No, just curious.”

The outside, huh.

It wasn’t exactly satisfying evidence, but it allowed for a reasonable inference.

The glass would have been excessively thick, and the bird was only the size of a palm. Force is proportional to mass — even if the impact had been enough to cause a crack, the bird couldn’t have broken through.

Given that, if the point of impact had tilted slightly outward, it wasn’t impossible for most of the shards to have fallen outside.

Cecilia mulled over the sequence of events and gave a rough nod.

She decided not to consider any other possibilities.

Above all, there were no traces of magic.

The Marquis’s claims were unreasonable in every regard.

“I’ll contact His Holiness directly myself.”

Though the man himself apparently hadn’t managed to extinguish his suspicions.

Sounds like business is done. Can I go back to my room now?

Her last shred of interest fading, Cecilia scratched behind the ears of the purring Charles.

Her gaze, now as indifferent as if none of this concerned her, happened to catch the newspaper the Marquis had tossed aside.

The front page of the capital-issued paper carried an article praising the resounding success of a new-materials venture jointly invested in and spearheaded by the Princess and Dillanché.

Ah, so that’s what put him in a foul mood.

Having easily guessed the Marquis’s inner feelings, Cecilia let her eyes drift lower.

Another article occupied a bold corner of the front page.

This is…

<The one fingered as the mastermind behind illegal private gambling dens is none other than the Magic Tower Master? Where is the Tower’s lofty pursuit of truth headed?>

Beneath the rather sensational headline, Cecilia carefully read through the scathing article, then picked up the newspaper.

“Father, may I take this newspaper with me?”

The edge of the article crumpled with a crunch in her grip.

Back in her room, Cecilia tore off the bottom section of the newspaper. She stuffed the crumpled scrap of paper roughly into her pocket, then immediately threw on her coat.

“I’ll be having today’s lesson at Rien’s estate.”

“Pardon?”

It had only been a few days since the accident, and Melanie was horrified at the announcement of another outing.

“My lady! The Marquis ordered that you refrain from going out for the time being because it might be dangerous—!”

“It’s right next door. I’ll be back soon.”

“My lady!”

Cecilia left the protesting Melanie behind and climbed through the gap in the wall. Then she marched up and knocked boldly on the front door of the estate.

Crash!

A tremendous clatter erupted from beyond the door, and then it swung wide open.

“Lady Cecilia! Wh-what brings you here at this hour…?”

How he had identified the unexpected visitor was anyone’s guess — the master of the house himself, not the butler, came straight to greet her.

Still wearing the robe, of course.

He wears that thing even at home.

Cecilia eyed the gloomy scrap of fabric with distaste, then smoothly launched into her act.

“I thought we could hold today’s lesson here. We’re friends, so this much is fine, right?”

It was a good two hours earlier than their scheduled lesson time, but he nodded happily without the slightest hesitation.

“Y-yes, yes! Of course.”

“Then, pardon the intrusion.”

Knowing full well she was being rude, Cecilia slipped past him and strode into the estate.

She had come and gone through the garden often enough, but this was her first time inside the main house. The interior, as grand as the Weberdin estate, lacked ornate decoration but possessed an old-world elegance all its own.

Cecilia was admiring the carvings on the pillars and ceilings when she suddenly noticed a broom standing upright against the corridor wall.

A broom?

Looking more closely, she saw a rag draped beneath the window, and a pail of clean water sitting in the corner of the hallway. But no one was using any of it.

She realized what had been nagging at her.

For an estate this large, it was eerily devoid of people.

“Come to think of it, I don’t see any servants.”

Her voice echoed flatly through the spacious hall.

Rien flinched as if struck by the sound.

“Oh, t-today happens to be their day off.”

“All of them?”

“Y-yes. I give them regular time off for work efficiency. I’m quite comfortable living on my own.”

“What a good employer.”

Rien sheepishly scratched his robed head and led her to a small room at the end of the corridor.

“This is really the only space I use in the estate. It’s, um, quite messy.”

More like there’s barely any furniture.

The room, roughly half the size of her own bedroom, contained little more than a sofa and a desk.

Still, it did seem to be his regular haunt — a thick blanket and a small cushion lay scattered across the leather sofa, and the mahogany desk was piled high with books so dense she couldn’t even read the titles.

And what’s with the fireplace?

The strangest thing about this otherwise unremarkable room was the fireplace dominating one wall.

Inside the hearth, logs blazed away despite the season, yet oddly, she felt no heat from them.

“You’re not feeling unwell and I’ve just barged in without noticing, have I?”

Cecilia tilted her head, and Rien immediately scooped up the dirt beside the hearth and dumped it over the logs.

“No! The, the butler left some firewood here, so I lit it for fun, that’s all.”

The extinguished logs hissed, thin smoke curling upward. Cecilia peered under the robe to check whether he might actually have a cold.

The half-visible face wasn’t flushed, so it seemed she’d worried for nothing.

Relieved, Cecilia dropped onto the sofa.

“You said you’d teach me ballroom dancing today, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Rien nodded, rummaged through the stack of books on the desk, and soon returned with several volumes.

A Beginner’s Guide to Ballroom Dancing

Read This and Become a Dance Master

Dance God

…What even is that last one?

The title alone was terrifying.

She felt bad for Rien, who was proudly presenting the manuals, but she had no intention of sitting quietly through a lesson today.

“You’re planning to teach dancing through theory, too?”

“Hm?”

“You could just teach me yourself, Rien.”

Cecilia lightly tugged his wrist. Only when their faces drew close enough to nearly touch did she meet those violet eyes.

“Would that be all right?”

The little trick had already become second nature, flowing out as easily as breathing. She slid her hand down from his wrist to cover the back of his hand, and Rien recoiled.

Or rather, tried to recoil, and failed.

She hadn’t put a leash around his neck. Yet Rien stood frozen like a tethered animal, unable to move an inch.

He let out a short breath — a murmur like a sigh.

“Would it… be all right for me to touch you, Lady Cecilia?”

“Of course.”

They were already touching.

After his lips moved soundlessly several times, Rien sprang to his feet. The books he’d been holding tumbled to the floor, and his comparatively free right hand thrust out toward her.

Cecilia clasped his hand, let herself be drawn to the center of the room, and turned to face him — one motion flowing seamlessly into the next.

“Please follow my lead first.”

“I will.”

Physical pursuits weren’t exactly her forte, but Cecilia nodded without hesitation.

No audience, no orchestra. Just a small room.

From a device resembling a gramophone, slow, tranquil music drifted out.

Rien moved his feet slowly, keeping time with the music’s intermittent crackle.

Perhaps because he was so considerate of her as a beginner, following his steps wasn’t particularly difficult.

Only — each time a misstep of hers closed the span of distance between them, his chest heaved roughly.

Cecilia gazed up at that naked agitation, at the two cheeks blooming red, and parted her lips.

“Rien.”

“Yes?”

“What do you think of the Magic Tower Master?”

The man’s smooth stride halted like a broken toy.

It was a wildly out-of-place question for the middle of a lesson. But it was also the very reason she had descended on this estate unannounced.

His hand, still clasped in hers, began to tremble finely.

“Wh-why do you ask?”

“I happened to read a newspaper from the capital today, and there was a special feature about the Magic Tower Master. They say he’s a truly wicked man.”

The moment her decidedly biased words ended, Rien denied it outright.

“It’s probably just a baseless rumor.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes!”

He didn’t seem to notice, but his grip on her hand had tightened.

A reaction this strong was answer enough.

Before the music even finished, Cecilia released his hand cleanly and stepped back.

“…Lady Cecilia?”

And she went straight to the point.

“Rien, you’re a mage, aren’t you?”