Count's Youngest Son is a Warlock

Lucion’s mind raced with thoughts. ‘If Twilo joined forces with the Hand of the Void, the warlocks should have followed suit. How do they plan to kill me?’

One thing was certain—Twilo would undoubtedly be among those recommended.

The red thread connecting Lucion to Twilo seemed destined to entangle him with that man.

“Lucion?” Heint’s voice broke through Lucion’s thoughts, bringing him back to the present as he looked at Heint.

“Are you truly alright? If you can’t handle it, I can go ahead and talk to them,” Heint offered.

“No, it’s fine. They probably spread the news of my arrival, and there might be people who genuinely came to see me.”

“If you were to collapse, it would… um, really complicate matters.” Heint expressed his concern.

The festival grounds.

The ruler of the frontier, Novio.

His Imperial Majesty.

Carson.

‘…It feels distant.’

Heint felt an urge to close his eyes and escape from the overwhelming situation.

Seeing his distress, Lucion proposed a solution.

“If I feel like I’m going to collapse, I’ll let you know.”

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

“In that case, I’ll call for you just before I collapse, brother.”

Heint stopped himself from further explanations.

Something felt peculiar—a similar feeling to when he conversed with Hamel, but without the annoyance this time.

Heint glanced at Lucion momentarily.

‘Nah, that can’t be. Their voices are different, and their hair colors are different too.’

The physique, well, with the hood and cloak, it might appear similar. Perhaps there were some minor resemblances.

As for the woman next to Hamel… Heint couldn’t be certain.

However, the voice and hair…

Could they be altered with magic?

Heint recognized that his assumptions were absurd, but sometimes his gut feelings proved to be right.

That gut feeling was triggered now.

‘If… if Lucion actually is Hamel…’

Heint felt his heart pounding in his chest.

His mouth involuntarily felt dry.

A strange sense of déjà vu.

The light that responded to Lucion.

A body similar to Hamel’s.

He decided to test it, just once.

‘If Lucion is Hamel, he’ll react to my hand and block it.’

Just as Hamel had effortlessly blocked his sword without intending harm.

Without hesitation, Heint reached out his hand.

But it was Lucion who blinked first.

It wasn’t until Heint’s hand hovered near Lucion’s head that Lucion’s widened eyes revealed surprise.

It was a natural reaction, one that an ordinary person would exhibit.

“Why are you doing that?”

“Oh, it’s because there’s dust,” Heint replied, awkwardly imitating the act of holding something in his hand.

‘..I almost caused a big problem. Why did I foolishly suspect Lucion when there’s no reason to doubt him? Lucion is just an ordinary person.’

Feeling his heart pounding fiercely after a long time, Heint forced a broader smile.

“I’ll get off first then. Take your time coming down when you’re ready. There’s still time before the event starts.”

Heint stepped out of the carriage without looking at Lucion.

The murmurs of the crowd echoed loudly through the open carriage door.

Lucion closed his eyes for a moment, and as soon as the carriage door closed, he spoke.

“What did he do, Bethel?”

[He was trying to check.]

Bethel answered immediately.

“You mean to find out who I am?”

[Yes, he was checking to see if Lord Lucion was Hamel.]

Lucion’s blood ran cold at Bethel’s subsequent answer.

“Why?”

Lucion’s voice trembled.

Where did it go wrong?

He’d been so careful.

[Sometimes knights have a thing called intuition among themselves. Don’t worry, he probably just acted on his gut feeling and checked it out.] Bethel reassured Lucion, trying to ease his concerns.

He must have been terrified for a moment.

“Is that so?” Lucion asked, following up.

Bethel narrowed her eyes and nodded in response to Lucion’s next question.

[Trust me. Because Heint hasn’t noticed yet.]

[Bethel is right. If he had noticed, knowing Heint’s personality, he wouldn’t have just let it go.] Russell chimed in, providing additional reassurance.

Lucion let out a sigh of relief, feeling the weight on his shoulders lighten slightly.

“Thank goodness,” he muttered, even though the event hadn’t even begun, he already seemed exhausted.

Taking a deep breath, Lucion stroked Ratta, finding solace in the familiar touch.

“Hume.”

“Yes, young master.”

“If you see me acting strangely, don’t just lightly tap me. Give me a firm shake to snap me out of it.”

“M-Me?”

Startled by the unexpected instruction, Hume stumbled over his words.

“Not where it’s visible, but like tapping my shoulder or gripping my forearm.”

“I can’t do that! Rather than hitting you, I would rather bite my tongue.”

“Is this something worth biting your tongue for…? No, what are you reading again this time?”

―Ratta knows! It’s ‘Oh, My Master.’ It’s so much fun!

“…?”

Lucion’s eyes widened.

[It’s a novel with a knight as the main character. I recommended it to you. It’s a must-read for a knight like me.]

Bethel chuckled playfully.

Lucion couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Hume, Bethel, and Ratta extending her forepaws and locking fists.

When Lucion’s gaze turned to Russell, he shrugged.

[I don’t know, I didn’t read it.]

“Haha!” Lucion suddenly burst into laughter, his happiness evident in his expression.

Seeing him smile was a relief, despite the lingering doubts.

Even though he hadn’t been fully prepared, it was fortunate that everything was going well.

Still smiling, Lucion pointed his finger toward the door.

“Open it.”

“…Are you ready?” Hume asked, surprised by the sudden request, withdrawing his hand from the fist-bump with Bethel and Ratta.

“No.”

“Then…”

“Just go with it. Even if I had time to prepare, a day wouldn’t be enough.”

Examining Lucion’s determined expression, Hume hesitated for a moment before gripping the doorknob.

His fingers trembled slightly as he fidgeted, but eventually, he mustered the courage to open the door.

A flood of words poured out.

The sound pierced through Lucion’s ears.

The once harmless chatter had transformed into mocking laughter, insults, and hurtful words that seemed to gnaw at his heart.

Feeling overwhelmed, Lucion felt as if he were submerged, unable to resurface from the depths of the ocean, consumed by a whirlwind of emotions.

Ratta entered Lucion’s shadow, and Lucion stepped down from the carriage.

Thud.

The cacophony of indistinguishable sounds engulfed him like crashing waves, as if sharp thorns were piercing his chest.

Haa.

Lucion exhaled.

‘It’s not that kind of sound, it’s a shout.’

He repeated it to himself like a spell, a reminder.

Isn’t it time to break free now?

He refused to bow his head or succumb to the unpleasantness that clung to him. Lucion kept his gaze fixed ahead, unaffected.

―Look at that! People are smiling as they watch Lucion!

Ratta’s cheerful voice brought a sense of relief, gradually calming the overwhelming waves.

Why does Ratta’s voice bring such comfort?

The murmurs around him grew clearer, and the faces of the people, once obscured by the foam of noise, began to emerge.

They were smiling—just like on the day he became a saint, people looked at him warmly.

Their laughter filled the air.

He felt the timid touch of Hume’s presence behind him, a reassuring sensation against his back.

Lucion took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

And he smiled.

“Saint! Saint!”

“Wow! It’s really the saint! Mom, the saint is sparkling!”

“Please, become a light in the Tesla Empire, Saint!”

“Wow… Is that a person? This is insane, I’m going crazy.”

Various voices pierced Lucion’s ears.

Even with the diverse sounds reaching him without blending together, Lucion still felt a sense of fear.

He held his trembling hands tightly together, ensuring they didn’t show any signs of shaking.

With determined effort, he maintained a lifted smile and focused his gaze ahead.

Flowers were scattered.

There were flower petals scattered on both sides of him.

‘Could it be… that she came.’

Seeing the colorful petals like heralds of late spring, Shaela came to mind.

Though curious, Lucion couldn’t bring himself to look away.

For now, walking forward while looking ahead was the best he could do.

* * *

“Great job.”

Heint said, setting down his folding chair.

“…No.”

After taking a sip of water from Hume, Lucion finally settled into his seat. His entire body was still trembling.

“Lucion, once you board, the priests will follow onto the rest of the ship,” Heint informed him, gesturing towards the docked vessel.

“We’re proceeding with the lottery now. Just a moment.”

Heint left for a moment.

―Oh! It’s Uncle Troy!

Lucion’s eyes rolled at Ratta’s voice.

‘Veros came all the way here?’

As their eyes met, Veros nodded his head.

‘This is not a good idea. There will be people who will look at the festival chosen for political neutrality with a disapproving gaze.’

If Heint had delivered his letter properly, the situation within the temple would have been turned upside down by now.

‘Why did Veros, who could call for Troy, come out of the temple?’

‘Did he think the inside wasn’t safe enough?’

-Nice to see you.

Troy’s voice could be faintly heard in the distance.

Just like Ratta, Troy wasn’t visible, as if he was hiding somewhere.

-I know what you’re worried about, Lucion. But Veros came not for political reasons, but for the sake of the sea, so don’t worry too much.

‘Has Troy mastered mind reading?’

Lucion almost screamed at Troy’s words, as he saw right through his mind.

[What, were you really thinking about that, letting me worry about you, or were you thinking about something else, like politics or something?]

Russell freaked out.

Was he still trembling from just exchanging greetings a while ago? He felt the urge to at least touch Lucion’s hands, who was invisible to him.

―Uncle Troy! Ratta has a question!

-Tell me.

―Umm, there is a black sea beyond. Do you know what that is? Ratta heard the explanation, but still doesn’t understand.

-That is corruption. Although the priests deny it, it is a very deep corruption.

[To the extent that you need to step forward?]

Russell asked.

-Yes. The sea border seems a bit unstable.

[Did the divine beast set that guard?]

Bethel looked around the festival site and saw the sea of death.

Viewing the Sea of Death from above, it was so dark that it invoked thoughts of death itself, as if one would never be able to escape once entering it.

The sight of the blue sea and the black sea not meeting each other was astonishing for a different reason.

It was easy to understand why the story spread that the God of Light had touched the place and prevented the black sea from encroaching.

-It’s not me. I’m just here to stop the corruption before it attacks the border further.

[Then did the God of Light really do this?]

Bethel’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

-Do you think there is a God?

[…I’m not sure. Maybe they don’t exist. If they did, would I end up like this?]

At Troy’s sudden question, Bethel pursed her lips and raised one eyebrow.

[Whatever it is, I’m a little relieved.]

Russell’s face softened.

[If there are no priests, I will possess Lord Lucion…]

Bethel’s words halted abruptly, causing Lucion to flinch.

Thud!

[Bethel!]

Russell snapped his fingers, suppressing the sudden surge of energy from Bethel.

Ta-ta-tak!

The knights, who were about ten paces away from Lusion, reacted to the inexplicable energy and surrounded Lucion, while the priests who were engaged in conversation reacted to the darkness and became alert..

“Are you okay?”

Heint quickly approached.

He tried to suppress the light as much as possible, but the reaction just now was clearly darkness.

[…sorry. I’m sorry, Lord Lucion.]

Bethel felt sorry and didn’t know what to do.

Their eyes met as they looked at each other.

Twilo Sprikado.

She couldn’t control her emotions the moment her eyes met his.

She should have restrained herself.

“I’m… fine.”

Lucion’s voice trembled.

Twilo walked by as if flaunting his presence.

Their gazes briefly met.

At that moment, as Twilo smiled and bowed, Lucion noticed a brooch adorned with a dark red gem—a gem that seemed out of place for a festive occasion.

Could someone wear such a brooch without it being a prearranged signal?

[That, that jewel. Isn’t that the jewel Gartio was talking about?]

Even Russell, in the midst of suppressing Bethel’s surging hostility, couldn’t help but express surprise.

[Russell. What characteristics did the owl have?]

Bethel urgently urged Russell.

[He said he had a scar on the back of his hand and his little fingernail was black. Have you seen it?]

Bethel’s face twisted at Russell’s answer.

[No way, no way…]

Bethel stuttered, but it was enough.

‘It’s him.’

Lucion closed his mouth and even the cup he was holding trembled from the discomfort flowing through his veins.

Bethel’s past confession, along with the red thread, and now the dark red jewel.

‘He’s the owl!’