Chapter 2: Have I returned?

“The younger brother is going to be engaged to the King of Valdrova?”

The second son, Huren Rosnova, reacted in disbelief.

Gray hair, brown eyes.

In the Rosnova family, he was in charge of administration and was set to become the next head.

He had just returned from a trip to the Empire on behalf of his father, Eremvalt, when he received the news.

“Yes.”

The butler who informed him nodded.

“Is it true?”

“It is.”

“It makes no sense. Could that brat have misunderstood something?”

“He seemed to understand it perfectly.”

“Of course, if I understand it, he can’t just play dumb…”

Huren scratched his chin.

Logically, it didn’t add up.

‘In a situation where you can only die or leave, why would he choose to die?’

Was it perhaps a way to show manliness before their father?

But, being an imperial decision, once accepted, it couldn’t be reversed.

The same went for Perda.

If he suddenly said, “I’ll leave the house,” that would be considered treason under imperial law, and he’d be beheaded.

“And what’s he doing now?”

“He’s leaving today, so he must be preparing for his departure.”

“Yeah? Then there’s still a bit of time to talk as brothers.”

The butler suppressed a sigh.

The first to scorn and ostracize Perda for being the son of a concubine and having blue eyes had been Huren himself.

To speak of brotherhood from his mouth was almost a mockery.

Huren walked down the hallway with his hands behind his back, as if strolling through a garden.

When he reached Perda’s room, several maids were standing by, waiting.

“Why are you standing here instead of attending to him?”

The maids, frightened, lowered their heads and explained.

“W-we tried, but he ordered us to wait outside…”

“What nonsense. So you’re waiting out here just because he said so?”

“Yes…”

“Useless. Does he think he can dress himself? Even if he’s a brat, he’s still a noble. How can he…?”

Huren grumbled, but deep down, he welcomed the news.

‘I knew it. When the day comes, he backs down.’

He cleared his throat and flung the door open.

“Perda! You, not even preparing and—!”

But his words were cut short.

In his mind, he had imagined him lying in bed, whining about not wanting to go. But the scene before him was different.

‘Is he… dressing himself?’

Perda was buttoning his shirt in front of the mirror.

“And what if someone enters without knocking, brother? What am I supposed to do then?”

It was he who pointed out the lack of manners.

“I thought you’d be curled up in bed.”

“How could I be? On such an important day, how could I waste time like that?”

“Then why did you leave the maids outside?”

“Because I can dress myself. Besides, I won’t have help from maids much longer anyway.”

His tone was calm.

His eyes remained fixed on the mirror, checking his appearance.

Huren blinked, surprised.

‘Is this brat really the same one I know?’

The old Perda had been a parasite, surviving with servile smiles. But now, he appeared calm and steady—almost like a grown man.

‘Perda… with this air about him?’

For the first time, he felt tension in his presence.

To mask his emotions, Huren cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“Ahem… right. I heard you accepted the engagement with Queen Valdrova.”

“Yes.”

“If you’ve read books, you know what that engagement means.”

“Of course. It’s just a fancy way of saying I have to leave the family.”

“How can you say that? At the very least, they won’t send you away empty-handed. You’ll be given enough to survive.”

Perda thought about that.

Money… yes, they’d give him something.

But how much?

Enough to live ten years as a commoner.

For someone used to noble life, it wouldn’t last even three days.

‘Well, I gave everything to my master anyway.’

Not because he wanted to.

A mage who would accept a late-blooming disciple could only be a man desperate for money.

He hadn’t taught him properly, but just having access to information had been worth it.

‘That old man is surely still the same—money and women.’

Perda snorted with a dry laugh at the thought.

‘That brat… smiling?’

Huren was convinced he was misunderstanding something.

He couldn’t allow himself that air of calm.

“I think you don’t get it. Do you know why they say marrying the dragon means death?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Of course I know. Didn’t the first fiancé get torn apart?”

Valdrova’s first fiancé had been the third prince of the empire, uncle of the current emperor.

Intelligent, handsome, popular—even mentioned as the next heir to the throne.

But after just one day with the dragon queen, he was so mangled not even his form could be recognized.

Since then, it was said.

— The fiancé of Valdrova must possess greater qualities than that third prince.

But no one came forward.

How could anyone surpass someone considered nearly perfect?

Even so, each year a noble was chosen to be sent, and all of them either fled or renounced their titles to escape.

Thus, that “engagement” eventually devolved into a pretext used by nobles to rid themselves of unwanted sons.

“And do you think you can accomplish what the third prince couldn’t?”

“I don’t know.”

In truth, even he wasn’t sure.

Even having become the youngest great mage of the eighth circle, he couldn’t say for certain.

But Perda wasn’t someone who acted based on certainty.

“I’ll find out in time, don’t you think?”

To Huren, that attitude was reckless.

He looked at him with annoyance and issued a warning.

“Whatever you do, don’t run away. If you do, the Rosnova family will send someone to hunt you down and cut off your head. Understood?”

At another time, Perda would have trembled in fear at that face.

Now he looked him in the eyes, without a trace of emotion.

“Brother.”

The gaze unnerved him for a moment.

“W-what?”

“You’d better keep your base instincts in check. Every time you look at the eldest brother’s wife with those lustful eyes, everyone notices.”

Huren’s face lit up like a burning coal.

“W-what are you saying?! You… you… how dare you!”

“If you want to hit me, hold back. I’ve got a date with the dragon’s maw.”

Perda gave him a couple of pats on the shoulder and walked out.

Huren stood there staring, stunned, sensing in him an unexpected maturity.

***

“It has been an honor to serve you, young master.”

The butler who was seeing him off wept as he watched him depart.

Perda observed those tears calmly.

‘Empty words.’

If those tears meant anything, it was more relief than sorrow.

Serving a useless and talentless young noble had been a constant humiliation for a servant.

‘Wasn’t this the one who also tampered with my food?’

Back then, he hadn’t noticed.

He had thought slipping because the floor was wet or vomiting during meals was due to his weak body.

He never imagined the servants might be behind it all.

Normally, that would have been enough to ignite the fire of hatred and revenge within him.

And the only mercy he would have offered was to kill him without letting him realize it.

‘But now… what would be the point?’

The Perda of now was at peace.

The flame had gone out, and only calm remained.

He had already carried out his revenge once, and he didn’t intend to cling to it anymore.

So he simply patted the butler on the shoulder and encouraged him.

“Well done. It must’ve been hard taking care of someone like me for so long.”

“…Eh?”

The butler, who had been pretending to cry, was so shocked his tears dried up instantly.

“I leave the Rosnova family in your care while I’m gone.”

“Ah… y-yes.”

Perda turned and left the house.

He didn’t look like a man headed to his death, but someone calm and composed.

Outside, a servant was waiting.

“My name is Hans. I’ll be the coachman taking you to your destination.”

“Coachman?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m going by carriage?”

“Eh? Ah, of course, by carriage. What else would it be?”

“I see.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing. It’s just… familiar.”

“Familiar, you say? …Pardon?”

The coachman didn’t understand what he meant.

“Then let’s depart.”

Clop clop—!

The carriage began to move, accompanied by the horses’ neighs.

‘How long has it been since the last time…’

In his most recent memories, carriages had disappeared.

Or rather, they had become an ambiguous item for the middle classes.

‘Then they were replaced by magic-powered cars.’

At first, there had been resistance—due to loss of tradition.

But soon, thanks to their comfort and control, magic-powered cars became symbols of nobility.

‘Then even air carriages appeared, and so many other things…’

All of it was the fruit of magical engineering.

‘Though it was never a field that interested me.’

Perda, blinded by revenge, had never paid attention to that domain.

‘Magic…’

Once, he had reached the ninth circle and cast the wish spell.

But now, he was no longer a great mage of the ninth circle.

‘The weak and scorned Perda.’

At this moment, he had nothing to do with magic.

In his previous life, he had awakened after leaving home, driven by rage and resentment.

Now, he lacked that burning fury.

It was only natural that it hadn’t bloomed.

‘And I don’t want to return to that, either.’

Looking back, magic had been like a drug to Perda.

Exciting at first, but increasingly harder to control—until he lost himself in it.

While he was insane, everything had seemed bright and pleasurable, but now he remembered it only as hell.

He preferred this bitter calm.

‘Though I don’t want to live without magic either…’

Life without it was too inconvenient.

Getting dressed, for example.

Upon reaching the third circle, one could use magic to put on simple clothing.

With the fourth, one could order magic to analyze a complex uniform and dress oneself automatically.

‘I need to at least reach the fourth circle so I don’t depend on anyone.’

To say such a thing so easily would sound absurd to anyone. But what he truly felt was uncertainty.

Yes, he had reached the ninth circle—but that path was no longer one he could walk.

What would a Perda without hatred or vengeance need to awaken magic?

“Sir…!”

His own coachman interrupted him with a trembling voice.

That alone was enough to know.

“We’ve… arrived.”

***

The carriage stopped in the middle of a forest.

At the end of the road, there was a sign.

— Beyond this point lies the domain of the King. Entry is forbidden.

That was as far as carriages were allowed to go.

“Well done.”

Perda stepped down.

The coachman unloaded the luggage and stood beside him.

“You should head back now.”

“But… shouldn’t I wait for your reception…?”

He showed a useless stubbornness.

Clearly, he had also been sent to make sure Perda didn’t run away.

“A dragon will come soon.”

“A-a dragon?”

“Probably not the real one, but a subordinate with its blood—a spawn. But to someone like you, it’ll make no difference.”

The coachman began to sweat coldly.

Perda pointed at the horses.

“Even if you endure it, the horses won’t. If they get spooked, you won’t make it back home. Wouldn’t that be your loss?”

“Ah…!”

“So go report that you dropped me off and head back. If you die, it’ll be useless.”

“U-understood.”

The coachman didn’t argue further.

He lowered a large bag from the carriage and bowed.

“Then I’ll take my leave, sir. I wish you good health!”

The man who had said he would accompany him left without looking back, pulling the carriage so quickly the wheels bounced.

Perda used the bag as a seat and waited.

“The domain of the King…”

Before long, the wind began to blow.

Perda looked up toward the forest.

There stood a girl.

A maid with silver hair and a black uniform.

He mustn’t be fooled by appearances.

She was a dragon spawn.

“Are you Perda Rosnova?” she asked politely.

“I am.”

“I will escort you to the castle. This way.”