The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master [Novel] Chapter 35

<The Saintess Falls? Drowning Incident at the Sacred Lake!>

<Divine Judgment at the Relief Festival: Controversy Over the Saintess’s Insufficient Qualifications!>

The ‘Saintess’ had nearly drowned in the lake at the Grand Temple. People were pouring out criticism, suspicion, and every other negative judgment — claiming she wasn’t a true Saintess after all, that God Himself had rejected her existence.

Where had all that cheering and celebration gone, when they’d welcomed her just the same as if she were the real thing? Watching public opinion flip like a switch after a single incident was so absurd she couldn’t even muster anger.

Beneath the sensational titles were sentences like ‘Divine wrath descends upon the Relief Festival — is this truly acceptable?’

‘Divine wrath.’

Was it the middle finger she’d raised? Or all the irreverent thoughts she’d been having?

Cecilia set the newspaper down with a flat thud, cutting off that idle train of thought. She wrapped her arms around herself, still not free of the lingering chill, and curled inward.

No. This was neither divine wrath nor punishment for a false Saintess.

Someone had simply tried to kill her.

A cold clarity descended, as if ice water had been dumped over her head.

Maybe she’d known, vaguely, all along.

An absurdly light object shattering solid glass, the shards raining down precisely above her head. The fact that it was Sena who’d encountered thugs vicious enough to kill with ease — and that it had happened right before her eyes.

None of it could have been mere coincidence or unavoidable accident.

She’d simply been running from reality, unwilling to get tangled in something complicated.

But this time, the incident was beyond anything she could look away from.

‘Fine. I just have to face it now.’

Chilled through as though doused in cold water, Cecilia lay back down.

“I’d like to rest a while.”

“I’ll call for the physician immediately — no, wait. Never mind. Just rest without a care, all right?”

Pretending to settle in, she sent the Marquis and Nox away.

She acted deeply shaken by the article, and Melanie — reading the room — excused herself as well.

Only once she was truly alone did she heave her waterlogged body upright. Staggering on unsteady legs, she barely made it to the study connected to her bedroom.

She went straight for the bookshelf and dropped heavily to the floor. Then she pulled books from the lowest shelf at random, one after another.

Exactly where she’d hidden it again — tucked behind the books, a dark indigo diary lay waiting.

Cecilia didn’t hesitate. She opened it immediately.

The first page, with nothing but the diary owner’s name. The second page, the reason for starting it. And the third page, which she was reading for the first time.

The date was roughly two years ago.

<Year xxx. Month of Verdure, 28th.

While walking in the garden today, I encountered an unexpected intruder. The adorable intruder with white fur climbed onto my foot and curled up.

I held the intruder — who had walked in of its own accord — close and looked around. Beneath the wall in a secluded corner, there was a gap in the wall I’d never noticed before.

Since the intruder passed through it on the way back, that hole must have been its way in.

The right thing would be to report it to Father immediately for safety’s sake, but I’ve decided to keep quiet for now.

If the hole is sealed, I’ll never see the adorable intruder again.

I should double my prayer time today.

May my sincere confession reach God. And please, let us meet again.>

An adorable intruder met in the garden.

‘No way.’

The story felt familiar. She turned the page quickly.

<Year xxx. Month of Life, 2nd.

God answered my prayer.

These days, when I walk in the garden alone, the cat appears as if by magic and comes to my side.

It doesn’t show itself when someone is with me, so I think it has opened its heart only to me.

My first friend!

I was so happy that I started spending more time on solo walks. Then Melanie began growing suspicious.

On top of that, when I asked for dried anchovies as my snack today, she looked at me very strangely.

I’ve suddenly become the young lady who enjoys dry fish, but that’s fine.

If it means I can see my new friend.>

<Year xxx. Month of Life, 14th.

I gave my friend a necklace. A small necklace with a tiny leaf engraved on it, commissioned from a jeweler.

‘Resti,’ meaning leaf.

That is the name I gave my friend.

I’m relieved that Resti seems to like both the name and the gift.>

Mya —

Just then, Charles let out a small sound and padded over to her legs, pressing his body against her.

Cecilia stroked his warm, soft back in silence, then let her hand drift down to the necklace buried in his fur.

On the golden metal, a single small leaf was engraved in intaglio.

“So you weren’t Charles at all. You were Resti.”

A bitter smile crossed her face, and she turned the page again.

<Year xxx. Month of Life, 21st.

People came from the Grand Temple to discuss the volunteer activities that House Weberdin regularly participates in. This time I wanted to go visit His Holiness the Pope first, but I couldn’t get permission to go out and had to give up.

While I sat there feeling dejected, Nox showed off his new clothes — a gift directly from the Pope. He said they’d had tea together, and that he’d received heaps of praise.

For a moment I wanted to shove dirt in that smiling mouth, but a Saintess must keep body and mind virtuous, so I held it in.

If I ever give up the position of Saintess, it will probably be because of Nox.>

<Year xxx. Month of the Sky, 6th.

I ate too much Sachertorte today and Melanie scolded me. She said if I fill up on snacks instead of eating proper meals, I’ll never become a sturdy Saintess.

I don’t understand why a Saintess needs to be sturdy on top of healthy, but sometimes — no, often — I imagine a future me who isn’t the Saintess.

Would I be able to visit the Sweets shop in person then? Offer my compliments to the pâtissier and eat freshly baked desserts to my heart’s content?

Go out freely whenever I want, see His Holiness the Pope whenever I miss him, make heaps of friends my own age?

But I know.

Imagining a future that will never come is a futile thing.>

Cecilia thought of the girl who had been confined to this vast estate, fulfilling her duties as the Saintess-in-waiting. A few months of being cooped up here was already this suffocating — how stifled must ‘Cecilia’ have felt, living like this her entire life?

Perhaps that feeling was the very reason this diary had been started. She allowed herself the idle guess.

<Year xxx. Month of the Sky, 15th.

I’ve been having strange dreams lately. Dreams where I’m placed in a different setting and my life is threatened for various reasons.

They’re so vivid that on the days I have them, my emotions swing wildly and I can’t function normally.

Each time, I run to the garden to see Resti, and only when I’m holding a warm living body close can I be certain that this is reality.

If Resti stays with me, won’t these nightmares stop?

I considered bringing Resti inside the estate, but decided against it. A free-spirited friend, locked up at my side — it would wilt like a flower with a broken stem.

For a moment, I envied Resti, leaping freely over the wall into the world beyond.>

<Year xxx. Month of the Sky, 29th.

The strange dreams are growing more frequent. Yesterday I dreamed of a carriage accident, and today I dreamed of being run through the stomach by someone’s sword.

The physician said it’s my usual inner anxiety or accumulated stress manifesting in dreams. That I should find some means of calming my body and mind.

But soaking in warm water, drinking heated milk, eating Sachertorte — none of it helped.

Worn down, I shed a few tears in secret behind the garden, and before I knew it Resti had come over and was nudging its small head against my leg, comforting me.

My only solace is the little friend who comes to find me.>

……Dreams of dying.

Could they be connected to the threats ‘Cecilia’ was facing now?

She turned the pages faster and faster.

<Year xxx. Month of Wind, 20th.

My only friend, Resti, is nowhere to be seen. The loneliness is less than the fear.>

<Year xxx. Month of Harvest, 13th.

Today in my dream, I fell down a staircase and died. Bones jutting out, legs twisted — I screamed like an animal, but no one helped.

No one.>

<Year xxx. Month of Harvest, 30th.

Today I was poisoned. The sensation of my throat and organs dissolving from the inside was so vivid I couldn’t eat a single meal all day.

What way will I die next time? What horrible pain will I feel? The mere thought is terrifying enough that I can’t fall asleep.>

<Year xxx. Month of Snow, 8th.

What if these aren’t dreams at all? Can dreams truly be this vivid? What if these memories are accidents that already happened, and I’ve been dying and coming back, over and over? Or was this life itself the dream all along?

I’m losing the ability to tell which is real.>

<Year xxx. Month of Rest, 14th.

The day before yesterday, yesterday, today. I died again.

Sons of bitches.>

The diary had spiraled — urgent, bleak, beyond control.

And the moment she turned to the next page, a chill ran down her spine.

<Died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died, died.>

The undated page was filled solid black with words scrawled so violently the paper had torn through.