A Mastermind? No, I'm just the Live-In Son-in-Law-Chapter 143: The Shadow Assembly

“It's cleaner than I expected.”

Led by the executives to the meeting hall, I found myself... surprisingly underwhelmed.

I wasn’t expecting some tribal open space or crude hideout—they did have infrastructure rivaling small cities, after all.

But still, this wasn’t a den of black magic or a cursed sanctuary brimming with dark power.

It looked more like... a normal conference room.

“There’s barely any black mana here.”

“...Right?”

“Is there a reason for that?”

Trying to squeeze out every bit of intel I could on black mages, I asked the question as casually as I could.

The Shadow Witch tilted her head as if wondering why I’d care about something like that, then scratched her head and began explaining.

“Well, it’s nothing special... We’re just extracting the black mana essence.”

“Black mana essence?”

“Yeah. The thing is, black mana—except in rare cases—can’t be produced naturally anymore.”

...Hold on. That sounds like a pretty big deal for something that’s “nothing special.”

“People who are born with it are even rarer than they used to be. So most modern black mages are artificially created.”

Public understanding of black mana is that it's a kind of curse—a side effect of mana being corrupted through evil deeds.

It’s not exactly baseless; I’m not just parroting gossip—this is literal doctrine from the current Holy Theocracy.

“Also, even those who already have black mana need regular injections of essence. Otherwise, it becomes fatal. That’s one of the reasons black mages avoid long missions.”

But what the Shadow Witch was saying now? It shattered that entire framework—like telling kids their grandfather’s bedtime stories were all propaganda.

If black mana isn’t born from corruption... that’s major.

I briefly considered what kind of chaos that truth would unleash in academia and religion before quickly reining in my expression and asking another question.

“Can you explain that in a little more detail?”

“Well... explaining this to outsiders is usually a no-go. But since you’re one of us, I guess it’s fine?”

When she smiled at me, it sent a chill down my spine.

It wasn’t like her earlier childlike grins—this one was wicked. No child could smile like that.

And thinking back... that means all those “innocent” smiles from before were probably fake.

“It’s because the god of the black mages disappeared.”

“...What?”

“To be more precise, they abandoned their duties. Haa... If that hadn’t happened, we would’ve conquered the world by now.”

I tried not to react outwardly, but I couldn’t help doubting my ears.

“...The god of black mages?”

“You know all those fairy tales? About heroes, and the sun, moon, and stars?”

“Of course.”

“Well, did you know most of those stories are actually based on real legends?”

She looked at me like I was an idiot for not knowing.

‘A god? That’s absurd.’

Honestly, I don’t believe in gods.

In my past life, despite doing nothing wrong, I lived every day in misery. There was no god to save me.

And in this world—where magic, heroes, demon kings, and even dragons exist—why don’t I believe?

Because I know ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) the truth behind the “goddess” worshipped by the current Church.

It’s a secret I’ve kept tucked away, a last-resort card in case something goes wrong with Hestia or if I’m forced into a collision with the Church.

To put it simply, the so-called goddess of the Church... is not a true divine being.

She’s neither omnipotent nor omniscient, nor even a sentient god.

She’s something far less—closer to a powerful magical entity than a deity.

This is a late-game reveal in Blacktail Fantasy 3, one of the top three biggest spoilers in the game.

If I expose that truth to the world, who knows what would happen? That’s why I’ve kept it as a trump card.

“...Hey. That expression. Could you not?”

“...?”

“I just shared something huge with you, but you’ve got that smug look like you know something ten times worse. You’re kind of ruining the moment for me.”

Snapped out of my thoughts by the Shadow Witch’s muttered complaint, I quickly composed myself.

“Haha... It’s nothing.”

“...Yeah, right. You’re even speaking formally now.”

“I told you it’s nothing.”

“You know, people usually drop the formalities when they’re not thinking. You’re really good at acting, huh?”

She thinks I’m faking politeness to hide my nature, but the truth is the opposite.

I’m forcing myself to be polite—specifically because I don’t want to give that satisfaction to Meredia’s enemies, the black mages.

Even now, I’m biting back the urge to speak normally.

“Anyway, if I understood you correctly—your god cut you off, and now you’re forced to manufacture black mana artificially.”

“That’s right.”

“But isn’t that still a personal choice on the part of the black mage?”

At my reply, the Shadow Witch gave me a look that said Really? This again?

“So now it’s your turn to test me?”

“...What?”

“Well, fine. I was a little harsh earlier, so I guess I’ll play along...”

She paused for a moment, her lips curling into that unpleasant grin again. She was about to speak when—

“Excuse me.”

The door opened, and a man in a butler uniform stepped in with a bow.

“The regional heads have arrived.”

The Shadow Witch stopped mid-sentence, turned her head, and stood.

“Well, since you said you’d be leading the meeting, I assume you know the basic procedure?”

“Ah, well...”

“Then I’ll leave it to you. The seal on the hall entrance can only be broken by me, so I’ll be back shortly. Hm?”

Just as I was about to ask her for a rundown of the protocol—maybe even sneak in a cheat sheet—she casually dropped that bomb on me and turned to leave.

Panicking, I reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Oh? Do you want to say something before I go?”

Misreading my panic entirely, she turned back with a smirk.

“We’re short on time, so I’ll keep it brief.”

“No, wait—”

“Yes, there are those who choose this life. And yes, most of them are evil.”

That should’ve been my cue to stop her, but something told me I needed to hear the rest.

“But not all black mages are like that.”

“......”

“Why do you think I called the Theocracy hypocrites?”

It was the first time I’d seen her not smiling.

Her expression was hard—close to solemn.

“They go around calling it ‘holy power,’ but it’s not even divine. They’re faking it.”

“......”

“Hah... And they still have the nerve to go witch-hunting...”

Muttering to herself bitterly, she gave me a casual wave and walked out.

“......”

Then, silence.

“Ahem.”

“Ah, at last! A chance to trade names!”

“...Eep.”

The executives around me—clearly still adjusting to my presence—began reacting in various ways.

‘So... some of these people might not have chosen to be black mages?’

It was a hard truth to accept.

But the Shadow Witch had no reason to lie—not to me, not now.

Unless this was some elaborate deception. But seeing the puppeteer at the far end, head down and face pale, I couldn’t believe this was all just a show.

‘Still... that doesn’t mean I can pity them.’

One statement didn’t change my entire worldview.

There might be innocent black mages among them, just like there are always a few bad people in a good group.

But the difference is—good people are more likely to redeem bad ones, while bad people are more likely to corrupt the innocent.

This gathering? This very meeting? It was proof of that.

“Haa...”

I exhaled quietly, gathering my thoughts—and then froze.

“...Eh.”

My eyes locked with the butler who had entered earlier.

He froze, too.

“Ah.”

He had been staring blankly at me this whole time.

“......”

Because that butler... was Alfred, who had been missing since the Academy incident.

‘Why is Alfred here?’

‘Why is Master Whitney here?!’

If I could translate the dumbstruck look we exchanged, that’s probably what we were saying.

***

A few minutes later—

“Ahem.”

“...Ahem. Good day.”

“W-Well, it’s a cold one today, isn’t it? Ho ho.”

The invited high-ranking black mages and VIPs, guided into the hall by the Shadow Witch, couldn’t hide their unease.

“......”

The reason was obvious.

Whitney Ringaarden was seated at the head of the table—where the Great Shadow usually appeared in physical form.

They’d been informed that he’d be presiding over the meeting, at least temporarily. But even so...

“......”

The silence was stretching on. Too long.

With the Great Shadow absent, and four executives in agreement, Whitney was officially in charge.

But if he didn’t say something, the meeting couldn’t begin.

“...Ahem, ahem.”

And that old butler behind him—why did he keep coughing like that?

Was it a signal? A warning? Had the protocol changed?

“Ah, um...”

Just as tension reached its peak, Whitney finally spoke.

“Before we begin the assembly...”

He looked around.

“You all seem uncomfortable. Why not remove your masks?”

And at that moment, everyone—except Whitney—froze.

“The executives hiding their faces... you too.”

Because Whitney had just broken the biggest taboo of the Shadow Assembly.