The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master [Novel] Chapter 15

“The original owner of the mansion came to the Magic Tower. He wanted a rare magical artifact, so he traded that for this estate.”

“So, you’re saying it’s pure coincidence that we became neighbors?”

That question might have sounded somewhat sarcastic, but Rien hesitated and shook their head.

“The real reason I decided to move was… because I was curious about the saintess.”

“…Me?”

“Yes. Did you know that not only in Weberdin but even in the capital, news about the saintess occasionally appears in the papers?”

She hadn’t known.

Despite being only a provisional saintess, she was regarded like a celebrity.

Only now did she realize the Pope hadn’t exaggerated when he said many people wanted to see the saintess.

“I once happened upon an article about the next saintess. So one day, if given the chance, I wanted to meet you personally, Ms. Cecilia.”

My goodness.

Cecilia shut her mouth tight, as if it might fall open.

‘He was interested in me long before he started playing games!’

She couldn’t decide whether to be happy that Plan D had succeeded or disgusted by this gloomy secrecy he’d been hiding all along.

But before her mind could lean either way, Rien shyly added,

“I was curious about the holy power you possess.”

‘Ah.’

Of course. He was simply interested in holy power.

Cecilia recalled the white shimmering light that had poured from her own hands.

She herself was curious about the nature of that power, since its cause was unclear but its effects undeniable.

But he was a mage not involved with holy power in the slightest — moreover, their leader.

“Why?”

It was a casual question, not meant to imply much.

But the moment Rien pushed his large glasses higher on his nose, she realized it had been a mistake.

“You can’t help being fascinated. Holy power is fundamentally different from magecraft that manipulates mana from the body or air. In an isolated system, energy neither is created nor destroyed. It only changes form. Magic doesn’t break that law — it converts mana into potential energy, light energy, or thermal energy. But holy power is different from the start. Especially the holy power inherited genetically by House Weberdin…”

His gleaming eyes and rapid-fire explanation somehow felt familiar.

She thought of the scholarly slaves who would sell their souls to prove a point — perhaps just her imagination.

“I-I see.”

Cecilia cut off his speech, momentarily reminded of unpleasant memories.

She didn’t want to hear about conservation of energy laws even in another world.

Rien mistook her attitude for anger and quickly reverted to a sulky expression.

“I find those aspects fascinating. But… after I met you, Ms. Cecilia, I arrogantly wanted to stay close to you.”

“…”

“Because you treated someone like me kindly and became my friend.”

Ah, this made her feel a pang of guilt. It had all been a pretense to get close to him.

Yet this earnest man openly showed affection for his first friend.

“But I’m sure you hate the fact that I lied. It’s fine if you insult or spit on me. You can trample me and slap me, and I’ll accept it humbly.”

“…What?”

Listening quietly, she felt like sinking through the floor and digging a tunnel underground.

If she accepted even a little bit of his oddly intriguing offer, Rien might be digging his own grave with his own hands.

‘If so…’

After brief but deep consideration, there was only one conclusion.

‘Let’s just let it slide.’

Well, he wasn’t from Dillanché or anything.

If it were the Marquis, she’d clutch her neck and collapse just hearing that he used magic.

Whether to trust Rien’s excuse or not was a separate issue.

There was no reason for the infamous Magic Tower Master to act so humbly before her, and that trembling, darkened gaze was certainly no act.

“I won’t insult you. I won’t trample or hit you. And I won’t abandon you, so lift your head.”

Cecilia gently brought her hand to his cheek. Following that touch, he obediently lifted his head.

His exposed eyes were flushed bright red.

‘If anyone saw this, they’d think I was begging a lover not to leave.’

She guessed it was because she was probably his only friend — his obsession with a precious research subject might also have something to do with it.

In any case, Cecilia decided to interpret it roughly as if they were lovers — or something close enough.

“Does that mean… you’re giving me permission to stay by your side?”

“Permission? What permission? You’re the one who asked me to stay from the start.”

Cecilia smiled like a true saintess.

“So stay by my side as much as you want, Rien.”

Having decided to embrace him, she thought it best just to accept that Plan D was going smoothly.

The man, whose face had momentarily stiffened as if touched by mercy, bloomed into a blooming flower of a smile.

“Yes. I want to stay by your side from now on — I will stay by your side.”

As long as she permitted, he would continue.

He murmured as he brushed his cheek lightly against her palm.

The sweetness pounding on her heart made her head spin for a moment.

“Keep going.”

“…”

“Keep going,” he repeated a third time.

‘Something about this trajectory feels a bit off.’

Plan D, going smoothly… right?

When she first fell into this other world, it was early spring — nights so cool they made her skin crawl — and before she knew it, greenery had thickened outside the window, and the season pulsed with life.

In this lengthy time, as the garden’s flowers changed once more, Cecilia had achieved a lot.

She proved that Plan A, B, and C — schemes hatched by scheming her mind — were rubbish; met Charles, who nearly became Schrödinger’s cat; and learned social dances and etiquette from the (soon-to-be) male lead that she would never use back in her original world.

‘…Not one of these things seems properly useful.’

Ah, but she did even make the front page of the newspaper.

The headline was a bold one: “The Saintess’s Miracle! Restoring Even a Severed Head…”

Though her head was never cut off in the first place, nor had she ever restored such a thing.

In any case, many witnesses had seen that day’s incident. Dutiful servants of God eagerly spread word about how much God cherished the saintess and how incredible the miracle was.

As a result, though only a fake saintess for now, her fame continued to rise day by day.

Nowadays, she regularly appeared on the front pages of every newspaper published in the Weberdin domain and the Holy Land.

The upcoming Relief Festival likely contributed, as did the Marquis’s influence.

But no matter the cause, this was far from what she wanted.

Especially articles like this:

<Grand Temple Announces: Saintess to Lead Relief Festival Ceremony! Will She Perform Another Miracle?>

Cecilia forced herself to look away from the freshly printed paper. They sang about the ceremony, and in the end, the Pope had apparently caused some trouble.

Did the newspapers know?

That their idol, the saintess, had truly lost it.

Since the accident, every deep night when Melanie had left and Cecilia was alone in the bedroom, she repeatedly tried to turn her hands into light sources.

But she never found the power switch. She simply hadn’t learned how to activate her holy power.

‘Maybe I should tell Melanie to hit me on the head with a glass.’

She was out of options.

There was a knock at the door, and Melanie’s voice called from the other side.

“Miss, may I come in?”

“Yeah, come in.”

Melanie appeared just in time, holding a silver tray on which sat a letter and a vase filled with water.

“Can you use that vase to smash my head?”

“I refuse.”

Melanie placed the vase on the sunlit table by the window and calmly declined.

She seemed to think this was a continuation of the strange antics from Plan C.

“I’m joking.”

“I know you’re half-serious.”

“I don’t think it’s as much as half.”

More like 45%?

“There are many guests right now, so please behave yourself, Miss.”

Avoiding Melanie’s sigh, Cecilia glanced out the window.

Beyond the greenery, people, horses, and carriages the size of ants bustled through the distant main gate.

“The Relief Festival must be a big deal. There are more people than in the morning.”

That morning, dragged awake by the unusually noisy estate, Cecilia had belatedly realized the identity of the swarming guests.