I woke up to Iva’s scream. In front of me, I saw the backs of two men running. But it was too late.
Beyond the two men, the startled foal and Lewin falling were stretched out in slow motion, like a lingering film.
“No!”
The small child floated in the air, as if suspended on a taut rope that had snapped.
No matter how fast I moved, I couldn’t reach the child from that distance.
The words the Duke had said earlier that day flashed through my mind.
<The mana contained within the magical artifact has likely been fully absorbed by Miss Rohela.>
The only way to save Lewin now was magic. If I could just use that mana successfully!
With desperate hope, I reached my hands forward. Please, please let the mana within me…
A warm, thick heat surged from my heart. Slow, hot, and sticky—it felt like blood rushing backward.
They say that when a person desperately wishes for something, it’s like vomiting blood. Maybe this was what they meant.
At that moment, my vision flickered red.
“Lewin!”
As my voice burst out, the hot, sticky energy shot out from my fingers. My spine tingled without my realizing it, but the relief crushed the sense of dread.
Tsuzuzu…
A deep crimson mana, distinct from Dorian’s, spread like veins. It caught Lewin as he fell, like a safety net.
Thump!
The shock of enveloping Lewin coursed through my hand and body. I nearly dropped my hands, but thinking that letting go would hurt him, I managed to hold on.
I slowly lowered my arms.
“Lewin!”
Even though Dorian might have been surprised that I’d used magic, he immediately rushed to Lewin. While Dorian checked him, Hartmann’s gaze, fearful or perhaps awestruck, lingered on the residual crimson net.
“How…”
I repeated the words I had said to Dorian.
“Don’t ask how. I don’t know either.”
I thought I sounded composed, but my voice trembled. I clenched the arm from which the net had slipped.
“…I see.”
Hartmann said this but didn’t seem to believe me at all. Well, what could I do? I had nothing to add.
I slowly withdrew the net. Like winding a reel, I twitched my fingers, and the net slowly seeped back into my hand.
My fingertips felt like they were burning.
Once the net was fully retracted, I approached Dorian and Lewin.
“Lewin, are you okay?”
Lewin’s wide eyes blinked as he quietly nestled in Dorian’s arms.
When our eyes met, tears slowly filled Lewin’s pale green eyes.
“…Huh… huahhh!”
Startled, Lewin broke into sobs. He cried so intensely that his chest and shoulders shook with every tear.
“May I hold him?”
At my words, Dorian silently handed Lewin into my arms. Hartmann calmed the still-frightened foal.
“I’ll take Roti to the stable. Your Grace, perhaps you should return with the lady first?”
Hartmann gently stroked the foal’s head, just as I had patted Lewin’s.
“Alright.”
Dorian said, holding Lewin’s hand tightly. Since Lewin had been so frightened, he needed to be checked by a doctor. Children of this age could suffer lasting effects from shock alone.
Anxious, Dorian and I quickly moved toward the mansion, with Iva following briskly behind.
“Master is fine, but for his mental and physical stability, please stay by his side continuously.”
The healer, visiting instead of a doctor, scanned Lewin with a magical instrument and spoke.
“Thank you.”
“Now, you may leave.”
I bowed slightly in thanks. Dorian nodded to the healer as well.
Before us, Lewin lay slanted on the couch, tear-streaked cheeks glistening.
His chest rose and fell with shallow gasps. Shock subsided, but the child looked exhausted.
“Something was off, wasn’t it?”
I ran my fingers through Lewin’s hair. Soft strands fell across his forehead and then settled back. Dorian’s calm voice came from beside me.
“You felt it too.”
I nodded. When Dorian and I had walked to the riding grounds, the weather was calm with no wind. Yet the moment I approached Lewin, a sudden, massive gust blew as if aimed deliberately.
“Is there a magical artifact that could cause such wind?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
That was the problem. I lowered my gaze, deep in thought.
There had been war in this world, so magical artifacts designed to disrupt and destroy enemy formations existed.
However, such artifacts were large and powerful, requiring several people to channel mana to operate.
If the wind was strong enough to startle horses, it was weaker than battlefield-grade, but still likely a war artifact. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t be meant to unseat people.
Useful for assassination, perhaps… but the fact that even the Duke didn’t know about it suggested it wasn’t commercialized.
I lifted my head and asked,
“How large would a magical artifact need to be to generate wind like that?”
As far as I knew, wartime artifacts were all cart-shaped, made of stone, with intricate carvings inside, outside, and on the wheels, and pulled by sixty horses.
Five artifacts of that scale could generate a storm across a field.
The magic that startled the foal was weak, but an artifact capable of whipping hair in the field…
“It must be about the size of a disc.”
He gestured roughly with his hands in the air, shaping an imaginary disc. Clearly, it wasn’t something easily carried around.
“Did you check if anyone else was nearby?”
“We immediately dispatched our subordinates, but no one was found. They likely used a teleportation artifact.”
Dorian frowned, a troubled look on his face. I nodded.
Normally, carrying two magical artifacts is difficult. The one with higher mana sensitivity and more Algoy stone absorbs all the mana, which is why wartime artifacts were moved by horses.
I recalled Scarlet using a teleportation artifact in her room. In a space filled entirely with artifact material, she vanished with ease.
The Duke had also used a cutting artifact, but its material wasn’t as mana-responsive as Algoy stone.
Hmm… it seems only one artifact—either the teleportation or the wind artifact—could have been used at a time.
I wracked my brain. The teleportation artifact must have been taken, so the wind artifact was certainly somewhere in the Duke’s mansion.
“Then… perhaps the wind artifact was hidden?”
Dorian shook his head.
“We searched thoroughly, but not a single patch of grass was disturbed, nor was the soil. Not even the undergrowth.”
“Then…”
I was lost in thought when a sullen voice sounded beside me.
“I suppose they no longer plan to hide their teeth. How dare they, in front of me…”
Dorian’s last words were almost a whisper of rage. His fists were clenched so tightly that the tendons in his arms were visible.
I sighed, watching Lewin struggle with closed eyes. First, we needed to calm Dorian.
“This must be someone connected to Scarlet. Perhaps Scarlet herself has returned.”
I recalled Scarlet with her violet hair and blue eyes. That wasn’t even her real name.
I flexed the hand that had released the crimson net.
“Dorian.”
“Yes, Rohela.”
Though his voice still held lingering anger, he was making a conscious effort to remain calm.
“Everyone’s mana resonates differently.”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever seen mana with a wavelength similar to mine?”
I looked at Dorian as I asked, and he pondered deeply.
“I’ve never seen the exact same mana. If it were just red, I might guess, but there’s a distinct difference, like fire and blood.”
The mention of fire reminded me of the Crown Prince. In the original story, the heroine entered the academy and heard rumors about him.
[“…When I placed my hand on the mana measurement device, everything around me ignited. Everyone screamed in panic, but it wasn’t fire—it was the Crown Prince’s mana.”]
Mana passes through bloodlines, so royal mana likely shares the properties of fire.
Thinking of fire made my fingers twitch involuntarily, recalling the burning sensation.
‘Ah…’
Perhaps the blood-like feeling came not from the mana itself, but from the shape I created.
Anything touched by fire blackens first, and with enough burning, turns white. Maybe that’s what my mana was doing.
‘But there’s no evidence yet; it’s just speculation.’
Even if the royal family knew of the Brecht Duke family’s mana inheritance, it didn’t necessarily mean the emperor wanted Lewin dead.
Moreover, the older brother had already received the dukedom.
Lewin would likely inherit a minor fief and live as a count or viscount.
“Then it’s no threat.”
“Pardon?”
I must have muttered it too deeply into my thoughts. Dorian reacted immediately.
“No threat?”
“Oh, I was just thinking whether Lewin could be a threat to anyone. I can’t understand why someone would target a child so young.”
I concealed some facts to avoid raising suspicion.
What reason could there be to assassinate a six-year-old? Yet Dorian’s face visibly darkened.
“…Yes. He’s still just a child. Surely he’s no concern.”
A lie.
He already suspected the force targeting Lewin.
Dorian’s words faltered. They sounded like wishes cast upon a falling star—fragile and meaningless.
It was clearly not an ordinary faction.
