The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower-Chapter 307

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Chapter 307: Forest of Spirits (4)

Skin as white as snow—so starkly different from his own sun-darkened complexion.

Perhaps because of that, he looked like someone who had grown up without ever knowing hardship.

That was Chester’s first impression of Oscar Crucian, the White Tower’s noble young master.

‘And somehow… I don’t like him.’

Of course, the biggest reason his gaze toward Oscar was so unkind was Sasha and Lloyd’s behavior.

Both of them were level-8 mages—people who would be treated with respect anywhere they went.

One of them was even the proud tower master of the White Tower.

Yet here they were, flustered as if facing a superior, before this young man.

It was unpleasant to watch.

Seeing both of them stand up and bow deeply was enough to make Chester angry.

‘Granted, reviving the White Tower in just a single year is impressive. It really is. But…’

Wasn’t this treatment a bit excessive?

Worse still, the person in question accepted their reaction as if it were only natural.

That attitude rubbed Chester the wrong way.

“Hm?”

Because he already disliked him, Chester realized the young man’s realm a beat too late.

‘Level 7?’

Seven clearly defined mana circuits could be felt from him.

And not a trace of sloppiness—

which meant he hadn’t forced his way up, but followed an extremely orthodox path.

‘At that age, level 7… and if I remember right, he was level 1 just a year ago.’

Chester clicked his tongue without realizing it.

There was no denying the boy’s talent.

‘Hmph.’

Seeing such brilliantly blossomed talent eased his irritation a little.

Chester knew better than anyone how worried the White Tower had once been, when no promising mages were joining.

‘Well, personality can be fixed.’

He himself hadn’t been particularly well-mannered in his youth either.

But after meeting that person, after striving to become someone worthy of emulating, his reputation had changed greatly.

‘As for etiquette, the elders of the White Tower can teach him.’

Having reached that conclusion, Chester was about to open his mouth to greet him—

“Tsk tsk. What a foolish fellow you are.”

“…?”

For a moment, Chester thought his ears were broken.

Otherwise, how could someone speak like that—to a man twice his age, on their very first meeting?

“What did you just say?”

“I said you’re foolish.”

“…Hah.”

This would take quite a long time to correct.

As Chester let out a hollow laugh, Oscar continued calmly.

“Chester Landus. You’ve ended up living a life chained to the past.”

“That’s enough.”

Chester warned him in his characteristically weary voice.

“I’ll indulge the arrogance of youth and brilliant talent only this far.”

“Oh my.”

Oscar laughed lightly and turned to Sasha and Lloyd, scolding them softly.

“What were you doing all this time without explaining? I was standing in the corridor for over an hour.”

“W-well, it took longer than expected…”

“We’re sorry.”

When the two bowed deeply again, Chester’s eyebrow twitched.

“I can’t stand this. Both of you, raise your heads.”

“Eh?”

“Yes?”

Before Sasha and Lloyd could even blink, Chester let out a low breath.

“Why are the two of you bowing to a junior so far beneath you?”

“Ah, that’s…”

“Tower Master—no, Sasha Maestro. I’m speaking now as a senior and an elder of the White Tower, so listen carefully. I’ve been following that child’s achievements through the papers as well. I know he’s extraordinary. But that doesn’t give him the right to disregard you and treat you like subordinates.”

“Please, wait.”

Seeing Chester about to create a lifelong embarrassment, Lloyd desperately tried to stop him.

“There’s a serious misunderstanding here. So first, please calm—”

“A misunderstanding? I saw and heard everything with my own eyes. What exactly is the misunderstanding?”

When Sasha sent him a What do we do? look, Lloyd simply shrugged helplessly.

“From ancient times, White Tower mages never bowed lightly—even to other tower masters or sword lords. Because we knew better than anyone that our pride was tied to that single bow. And even that person entrusted his disciples to me, saying the three of them were the future of the White Tower, and asking me to take good care of—”

“I never said that.”

Silence swallowed the room.

Chester’s halted head slowly turned.

“…What do you mean by that?”

“It’s true that I asked you to look after my disciples. They were still children back then. But I never said only they were the future of the White Tower.”

Chester doubted his ears.

The way the boy spoke—it was as if he himself were Oscar Sage.

‘And their reactions…?’

Sasha and Lloyd listened quietly, as if none of this were strange.

That realization made Chester’s eyes widen.

‘Don’t tell me…’

Was this young upstart actually claiming to be Oscar Sage himself?

And had Sasha and Lloyd been completely fooled by that lie?

If that were true, it was farcical beyond belief.

If the world found out, they’d deserve every finger pointed at them.

Clutching his throbbing forehead, Chester asked,

“Let me ask you one thing. Do you truly believe yourself to be Oscar Sage—the former tower master?”

“It’s not belief. It’s fact.”

“….”

Chester shut his eyes tight.

His worst assumption had proven correct.

‘No—this is actually perfect.’

If he exposed the lie here, the two of them would start doubting him as well.

Then this ridiculous charade would finally end.

Staring coldly at Oscar, Chester asked,

“If you really are him, why don’t you remember the last thing you said to me?”

It was a fair question.

Those words were the last words he had truly heard from that person.

Oscar, looking back into the past, spoke slowly.

“It was the day you came to see me with a desperate expression. You begged me to take you with me on the Night of Purge.”

Chester flinched, then quickly composed himself.

This much was already widely known within the White Tower.

Anyone could fabricate such a story.

“I told you I couldn’t. Instead, I declined gently by asking you to look after my disciples.”

Oscar’s gaze then moved to Chester’s wrist.

“And what I gave you then—that watch. It was new back then, but now it’s worn and tattered.”

“…!”

Chester’s eyes flew wide as he covered the watch on his left wrist with his right hand.

He had never told anyone that this watch was a gift from him.

“How could you possibly—?”

His voice trembled with doubt, but deep down, he already knew the answer.

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If the other man’s claim were true, this was something he could not not know.

“You already know, don’t you?”

Meeting Oscar’s calm gaze, Chester unconsciously looked toward Sasha and Lloyd.

‘Come to think of it, these two are anything but foolish.’

They would never have failed to thoroughly verify someone claiming to be their master.

Yet seeing how respectfully they treated Oscar now, the answer was obvious.

Everything clicked into place.

‘The reason the White Tower revived in just a year…’

Four achievements had been decisive.

The cure for the Cadena Plague.

The revival of Oscar’s Breathing Method.

The restoration of ancient records.

And finally, the airship.

‘None of these could be accomplished by talent alone.’

Dozens of the world’s greatest alchemists had failed to develop a cure for the Cadena Plague for twenty years.

And yet, from a collapsing White Tower, a sudden genius appears and single-handedly beats major pharmaceutical companies and magic towers to it?

That alone made no sense—let alone the rest.

“Ah… ahh…!”

Chester’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor.

Hot tears streamed down his cheeks.

Not because a grown man collapsing was shameful—

but because he had failed to fulfill the last request entrusted to him, and had shown nothing but disgrace.

“Get up.”

Oscar approached and offered his hand, but Chester couldn’t even bring himself to take it.

He only bowed his head deeply.

“I’m sorry!”

“Chester Landus. What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I failed my duty… I failed to properly carry out your request—to look after your disciples!”

Oscar gave a bitter smile.

It seemed that his request had instead become a shackle binding this man.

So he scolded him honestly.

“You foolish man. People make mistakes in life. Are you really going to stay away from the tower for over ten years just because of that?”

“…I believed I had no right to be here.”

“If you think you lack the right to step into this place—”

Oscar knelt on one knee before him and extended his hand.

“Then I’ll grant you that right myself. So stop wandering outside the tower and suffering.”

“Oscar-nim…”

With trembling hands, Chester grasped Oscar’s.

The hand was clearly much smaller than his own, yet it felt inexplicably vast.

After crying like a child for a long while, Chester realized Sasha and Lloyd were still there and quickly stood up.

“Ahem.”

Trying to regain dignity with reddened eyes was, frankly, a bit amusing.

Oscar sat back down and asked,

“I heard roughly. You planned not to return to the tower until you found Gilly.”

“…It was the final task you entrusted to me. I believed that was only natural.”

“It wasn’t such a grand request that it should be called a ‘task.’”

Shrugging, Oscar asked,

“So—did you find the trail?”

“To state it plainly, I searched the entire continent over the past ten years. I found no trace of Gilliot Dominic.”

“Hm.”

Sasha and Lloyd’s expressions darkened slightly.

Noticing, Oscar asked,

“Does that mean… he’s dead?”

“No. He’s alive.”

The certainty in his tone demanded explanation.

“Is that just what you want to believe—or do you have grounds?”

“….”

Chester glanced briefly at Sasha, then spoke cautiously.

“There is something I never mentioned. It wasn’t certain, and I didn’t want to raise false hope.”

From his robes, he produced a small gemstone.

Inside it, three faint lights glimmered.

“What is that? It’s pretty.”

“Hm? This is…”

Unlike Sasha, Lloyd widened his eyes the moment he saw it.

“Isn’t that a soul stone?”

A precious material once widely used when necromancy flourished in the Black Tower era.

Chester bowed his head.

“I apologize. It is indeed a soul stone. Under current imperial law, its use is strictly forbidden.”

“Don’t tell me what’s inside is—”

“Yes.”

At Oscar’s question, Chester nodded.

“When the three of you were children, I secretly made one. Just in case something happened.”

“Y-you stole my soul!?”

“At most, a strand of hair, wouldn’t you say?”

“That’s right. I didn’t extract your soul itself—only marked an extremely small trace through a strand of hair. It caused you absolutely no harm.”

“…I think I understand why you couldn’t tell us.”

Sasha, being rather rigid, might have demanded it be destroyed.

“So you’re certain Gilliot is alive because of this.”

“Yes. Gilli is definitely alive somewhere on this continent. I simply haven’t found him yet.”

Chester hadn’t been digging a well in a barren desert.

He had been searching with the certainty that an oasis existed.

Looking at the soul stone on the table, its three lights faintly blinking, Oscar spoke.

“If someone of your caliber searched the entire continent and found nothing, then he must be somewhere ordinary people can’t reach.”

Several locations came to mind.

“First, the imperial palace—the most obvious closed group. But it’s not there.”

If Gilli were there, the emperor would have told him.

“The Dwarven Kingdom isn’t it either.”

He was in occasional contact with Gordin, so that ruled it out.

That left only a few places.

“The Great Forest ruled by the elves, Yan Empire—and lastly…”

A group everyone knew of, yet no one truly knew.

“The Violet Brigade.”

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