Failed To Abandon the Villain - Chapter 18

The voice belonged to a small boy who stood no taller than her waist. His light green hair swayed gently. His narrow eyes glinted beneath the robe he wore.

“Are you a newcomer? No, you don’t have any magical power for that. Wait, could it be Socoro? No way, how could Socoro be here?”

“Hey, is this real?”

At Valetta’s question, the boy’s deep green eyes narrowed in irritation. Though he looked adorable, his demeanor suggested prickliness.

Crossing his arms, the boy scoffed.

“This is why Socoros are idiots. This is inside the tower—how could it possibly be real?”

“Oh, really?”

So summoning a spirit wouldn’t work, then. Feeling the stares of the wizards around her, Valetta decided to comply, rising to her feet and turning away. If summoning spirits wasn’t an option, there was no point in staying.

“Well, take care.”

As she approached the door, it opened.

“Hah!”

Valetta left the 82nd-floor room without hesitation, the boy’s voice filled with stunned laughter echoing behind her. Magic was impressive, she thought—mimicking nature so convincingly and all.

The 81st floor housed a strange laboratory. The 80th floor seemed to belong to someone in particular, as the door wouldn’t open. Below that was a dining hall, and further down was another library. After descending for quite some time, Valetta finally slumped onto the stairs, exhausted.

“Call on me anytime, master.”

She glanced down at the bracelet Reinhardt had secured around her wrist, then turned her head away.

I don’t exactly feel like doing what he says.

Her legs were sore, and with no windows around, she couldn’t even guess how much time had passed.

…Reinhardt is out of the question.

That left only one other person. While not her first choice, she could summon him, as he served as the caretaker here. Nobody knew his true name, so he couldn’t normally be summoned.

“Caspellios.”

The moment Valetta spoke the name, a magic circle appeared before her. From it emerged a translucent man cloaked in deep green robes—Caspellios.

Though his face was hidden, his entire body radiated surprise.

“How do you know that name…?”

“I just said it on a whim. Didn’t think it’d actually be yours.”

“…Liar.”

“I’m not asking for anything crazy. Just send me back to the Sky Chamber.”

Valetta’s voice was weary as she made her request. Though Caspellios eyed her warily, he extended his hand obediently.

A battered, translucent hand appeared in her field of vision. The palm and back of his hand bore dark bruises that looked like shoe marks, indicating the kind of treatment he endured.

It was obvious what kind of life he led. Valetta placed her hand on his extended palm.

“People worship the twelve mages who built the Tower of Magic like gods, yet they leave you in this state. It’s ridiculous.”

His body flinched. Caspellios slowly lifted his head. His crimson eyes, usually hidden beneath his robe, shone in the dim space, wide with surprise.

To him, how laughable must modern wizards appear?

On one hand, they exalted the mages as legendary figures. On the other, they treated him as nothing more than a caretaker, leaving him in this miserable condition.

“…Who are you, exactly…?”

“More importantly, when is that bastard planning to stop clinging to my master’s hand?”

The cold touch of fingers brushing against her neck made Caspellios recoil in shock, hurriedly withdrawing his outstretched arm.

Valetta’s hand, which had been resting in his palm, fell away abruptly. Her brow furrowed.

“I don’t recall summoning you.”

“Did you know that bastard was with me, master?”

She hadn’t considered that. Valetta clicked her tongue inwardly.

Reinhardt slowly wrapped his arms around Valetta’s waist from behind, his breath brushing against the nape of her neck.

“Why did you call that one instead of me? You never call my name. How heartless, my master.”

As he held her there, Reinhardt waved a hand, and a magic circle appeared on the floor. The sudden spatial shift distorted her vision slightly. Valetta frowned, feeling a wave of dizziness.

Reinhardt scooped her up and sat her down on the bed, kneeling before her and gazing up at her.

“So, did you summon your contracted spirit?”

“Contract?”

“You know, the djinn or whatever.”

Valetta remained silent at his question, delivered with a charming smile as his eyes crinkled prettily. She shook her head.

“I didn’t make any contract with a djinn.”

“…But you summoned one?”

Reinhardt’s eyes widened slightly in rare surprise. It wasn’t a contract. She had no desire to bind herself through such agreements; she only intended to offer compensation in exchange for help.

“It wasn’t a contract, just a summoning. I asked for assistance.”

“…A high-level spirit?”

Valetta nodded dismissively. She glanced outside, now dark, and let out a small laugh. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed—it was already evening. No wonder the descent had taken so long.

If summoning is difficult inside the tower, could it work outside?

She rose from the bed and approached a nearby glass wall. The room, entirely encased in transparent glass, offered a clear view of the outside. She placed her palm against the cool surface.

“Djinn.”

As she spoke softly, a whirlwind formed beyond the glass, eventually coalescing into a nearly colorless, translucent hawk.

–What is this wretched place?

“Oh, so it works outside,” she mused.

“…It shouldn’t, technically,” Reinhardt remarked, coming closer. For once, he seemed genuinely unsettled. He chuckled quietly and ran his fingers along the back of her neck.

“How far does my master plan to raise her value?”

The warmth of his touch made Valetta furrow her brow.

“What are you talking about?”

“Ordinary spirit summoners can’t summon a spirit they haven’t contracted with, let alone summon them into a separated space like this.”

Impossible usually meant it couldn’t be done, and yet Valetta had just achieved it. Meeting Reinhardt’s gaze reflected in the glass, she frowned.

“Do you know how noisy the imperial capital is right now, master?”

Reinhardt swept her into his arms again, carried her back to the bed, and seated her there. Sitting at her feet, he gazed up at her in that same position he seemed to favor—always looking up at her from below.

“The imperial capital?”

“Yes, they’ve sent a cooperation request because traces of magic were discovered at the count’s estate. Once they find out you’re here, that crown prince will surely ask for your return.”

“Of course he would. I was supposed to be the crown princess, after all.”

Not that it mattered anymore. That engagement was effectively void now, with Count Delight dead.

Reinhardt’s lips curled into a smile, as if he could read her thoughts. He stretched out a hand, resting it on her cheek.

“And yet, you’re still valuable. The imperial family won’t let you go so easily.”

His thumb gently stroked her cheekbone as his smile softened into something deceptively sweet. Then, his lips parted.

“Shall I kill them all?”

“What?”

“Even royalty dies if their necks are broken. They’ll keep chattering and trying to take you away from me, so wouldn’t it be better to kill them first?”

“Are you planning to start a war?”

He’s insane. That was Valetta’s immediate thought. She had anticipated Reinhardt being crazy, but not to the extent of contemplating wiping out the entire imperial family.

“War?”

Reinhardt tilted his head, his long hair cascading to the side. His crimson eyes reflected mild confusion.

“Does it need such a grandiose name?”

He shrugged casually. In other words, even if the other side called it a war and attacked in droves, to him, it wouldn’t even be a snack.

Valetta had read about his overwhelming abilities in the novel, but she hadn’t expected him to dismiss even war as trivial.

“Oh, but there are a few pests in the tower too,” he added casually.

“Someone named Baltier or something?”

“Master, have you mastered mind-reading now? How impressive.”

Reinhardt’s expression, feigning astonishment with wide eyes, was playful. It was strange to see such a look from someone who always wore a mask of falseness. Compared to his time at the mansion, his expressions had certainly grown more vivid.

“I overheard it in the library,” Valetta replied.

“Ah. Should I pull out all his teeth? Or maybe tear his mouth open? Which do you think is better, Master?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“Well, since he flapped his tongue so recklessly, just ripping out his tongue would be quicker.”

Valetta fell silent at Reinhardt’s chilling tone.

“Master, are you afraid of me?”

“….”

His sudden question made her slowly turn her head back toward him. The usual smile on his lips was gone, and his gaze was serious.

“Even when I’m kind to you or like now, you always avoid me, without fail.”

“I…”

“Why?”

His persistent questioning rendered her silent.

“You’ve been avoiding me from the very beginning. Why is that, Master?”

“….”

“You tried to drive me away right from the start. The pity and kindness you’d show to even a lowly beast were always withheld from me.”

He smiled—a cold, bitter smile.

“Or maybe it’s not just me.”

His added words made Valetta hesitate before finally speaking.

“I’m scared of you.”

She was honest. Valetta feared him. She feared Reinhardt, as described in the novel, and she feared the man who never genuinely smiled. She feared her neck being snapped in his grasp, as easily as one might break a twig.

“You think I’ll kill you?” Reinhardt asked as he rose. His piercing gaze locked onto her.

It wasn’t often that she saw him without a smile, but when he did show such an expression, it was always in front of her.

This face, Valetta thought, was closest to Reinhardt’s true nature.

“…Yes.”

“How can I make you understand?”

Reinhardt slowly reached out and placed his hand lightly around her neck. His large hand encircled her throat as he gently pushed her back onto the bed.

He leaned over her, slipping his knee between her legs, pinning her down while still holding her throat.

Reinhardt brought his face close to hers, their noses nearly touching, their breaths mingling in the tense air.

“Even like this, I can’t kill you,” he murmured.

Valetta frowned. Was it her imagination, or did he seem slightly anxious? As she remained silent, trying to steady her breath, he spoke again.

“What do I have to do to make you look at me, Master?”