She Decided Not To Get Revenge

Another type of magic that was floating around was a green afterimage of grass. 

Normally, these flaws are only seen when they are caused by an elf’s ‘mark’, but this is a weirdly utilized magic without a ‘mark’.

Miro was not sure why such remnants survive from human things, but they must be traces of a human race, not a fairy.

Perhaps this is the identity of Katlena Agreta’s infamous, privately-owned assassination group, “Lupus”, Miro Rosway speculated. 

Magic that is used without the assistance of a ‘mark’ but has a similar temperament? He’s never heard of it.

But the other traces were even more intriguing.

‘This is strange.’

Miro Rosway acted casually, turning around quickly after Merlin Newtide. Someone must have perished without leaving a trace at his feet. Crushed and possibly mutilated by the weight of the ground.

Without even ashes, it was burned to death.

The only remaining magic is a flame that is fueled by blood rather than the ‘mark’ and burns without leaving even bones behind. If it is a legendary black flame, it will explain why a midsummer storm-like blast of heat blows to such a distant place.

But, as far as he knew, there was only one magician in Roschodur who could burn a person without a trace without even a ‘mark’.

And she was definitely sitting directly in front of Miro at the exact time when the magic had swept over the city like a frantic mismatch of seasons.

Miro would have noticed if she had been using magic at a distance. 

There was no evidence, implying that Katlena Agreta did not kill the Alves on the scene.

‘Was it a time-difference trick with Shaurilin as a witness?’ 

It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought of it that way. At least, Katlena now has no reason to excuse herself to Shaurillin, so he should first rule out that possibility. 

And, no matter how staggered the trick was, if Katlena had recently used the magic, Miro would have sensed the traces of magical powers floating around her as soon as she met her. Just as when she first met Merlin Newtide, he immediately recognized, without effort, any traces of her past magic.

‘Like Katlena’s exclusive group, can Lupus be able to use the same magic as Katlena?’ 

It was really a ‘maybe’ thing. There isn’t any chance. Katlena would not have received the title of great sage at such a young age if this had been possible.

She has been recognized as a genius for undeserved money because it is an achievement that no one else can achieve.

Miro could not use magic, but he was well-versed in it, and he was confident that Katlena’s level of fire magic was at least as high as that of humans.

The more he thought, the deeper his mind was drawn into the maze. 

Miro Rosway shook his head a few times before deciding to concentrate solely on eliminating the previous sensations from his mind.

Shaurillin was the one who had to make the decision. Miro just gathers information. He doesn’t need to be preoccupied with weaving between clues. Especially if he doesn’t have the ability to knot it.

As he silently followed Merlin Newtide to the shopping street on the other side of the city, and passed the restaurant again, Miro’s gaze flashed across the advertisement in front of the restaurant. 

Looking through the menu of the day that the elves probably won’t be very pleased with, written on the billboards of the most famous large restaurant that they didn’t intend to take Shaurilin with.

It was only later that he found out that a pungent smell, which Shaurilin didn’t like very much, was hovering around the restaurant.

Miro Rosway committed the same mistake as Shaurillin. A rash assumption that Katlena’s acts resemble a little favor.

It can’t be a favor, though. He was the only one who had witnessed the events of 18 years ago up close and personal.

There were materials that looked so clear that he didn’t even consider them. Miro Rosway was certain that Shaurillin was correct. He couldn’t think Count Agreta had been framed since something was so evident. 

Miro was more surprised than anyone else when it was later proved that the charge of misunderstanding and suspicion was false.

Miro recognizes that Shaurillin was in a position to make a mistake. 

Shaurillin was quietly overwhelmed by the miserable reality for three days and three nights, with the things laid out in front of them as if they were remarkably upside down. He then left the office in the afternoon of the third day. Without even informing Miro.

Count Agreta was slaughtered between that evening and daybreak. 

A witness to Count Agreta’s decapitation in the plaza turned into a sea of blood just as the dawn was lifting his head testified that he thought the dawn had suddenly set in the darkness.

The red tinge that flowed down the lemon elf’s hair was claimed to have been colored a full scarlet color under the evening glow, and it appeared just like the peaceful autumn sunset when the sun had set.

Shaurillin Inborgia was a kind nymph who did not use the power of summary judgment at first, but Count Agreta had earned Shaurillin’s trust so deeply that he behaved disrespectfully. 

To use a common term, it is usually referred to as a sense of betrayal. 

Shaurillin did not recount any details of the day to Miro, but Miro, who frequently visited Count Agreta’s garden, felt that their bond was too unique to destroy their later lives.

The elves who had lived too long did not show respect to the humans who traveled through Roschodur, but Count Agreta was a special being at the time. 

He was unique. 

The fairy, who would have lived for hundreds of years, was not treated as a great old man or a philosopher, and he did not draw a line. 

He truly considers Shaurillin to be a friend and refers to him as such. It’s tough to imagine fairies and humans having a more natural relationship than that. 

The relationship between Count Agreta and Shaurillin was one-of-a-kind and difficult to recreate, and it was built on a specific foundation that could never be copied. 

Shaurillin had a soft spot for Count Agreta. Katlena was special to Shaurilin because it began sequentially from him.

Miro understands Shaurillin. He is well aware that this is the situation with everything. However, it’s impossible to deny that it must have been another severe betrayal from Katlena’s perspective.

Miro has never lost a loved one.

Miro had never experienced the kind of sadness that comes with the death of someone who was so natural to be around.

Perhaps Shaurillin would have lived long enough to witness Miro’s death and even plan a funeral for him, and Miro Rosway could not even conceive the pain of being left behind after death.

Just speculatively, presuming Shaurillin’s death makes it difficult. 

Never to be able to talk, get advice, or meet again. Forgetting his voice. To be able to find the shape of a face only by fumbling through the portrait. A farewell that fades away with the passage of time. Weathering that cannot be undone or recovered.

It’s like a war with memories that are destined to be defeated and degraded, in which he will inevitably fail no matter how hard he strives to maintain his memories.

He literally can’t even imagine. But perhaps that day came too quickly for Katlena in a form she didn’t recognize. 

‘When something like this happens, can Miro do anything for the other person?’

He can’t. A kindness that cannot be sustained will be duplicated by fierce hatred and will be called out.

He couldn’t even imagine what that terrible loss and emptiness will be like; how can he quantify the magnitude of the rage and resentment?

He couldn’t blame Shaurillin, but he couldn’t deny Katlena’s loss.

As a result, Miro feels humiliated and embarrassed in front of Katlena’s very kind attitude, which preserves the courtesy and gentle warmth of high-ranking aristocrats in similar positions. 

He always senses peculiar inconsistencies when he looks at Shaurillin, who is smiling softly in front of him. Even though he keeps on to false hopes.

‘Even if Katlena Agreta is as cold-hearted as the stories suggest, why would she pretend to be so generous to Shaurillin? Is it really necessary to preserve such an amicable relationship, even if she determined that she was worth cooperating with Shaurillin regardless of what happened in the past because she is very logical and rational? Could such an action, regardless of necessity, genuinely help Katlena Agreta’s heart in a sensible and rational way? Is it possible that Katlena can characterize past occurrences as useless and consider them non-existent enough to sacrifice them for economic purposes? Could it be possible in the first place?’

At nightfall, Katlena Agreta hosted a welcoming party for Shaurillin Inborgia at the former Count Agreta’s mansion.

She connects the road to the plaza with an extravagant arch and greets guests on the white brick road where vivid crimson leaves scatter like blood, just as she recreates that moment of the place that she will probably never forget.

Katlena Agreta’s entire body tells her that she will never forget what happened that day.

She dares to utter and pronounce the word revenge, repeatedly reminding Shaurillin of their resentful connection that day.

The Iron-Blood Duchess, as the name implies, is ruthless while also being generous and kind to Shaurillin. 

With the gentleness of a picture, there is no room for explanation or comprehension.

Miro’s task is probably not to create a consistent backdrop for all of the seemingly odd pieces. Miro Rosway, on the other hand, unknowingly traces the scenery of the past in the face of such a contradictory series of inexplicables. 

Utterly insignificant

***

Shaurillin had just finished speaking with the incumbent Foreign Minister Loggia Laxpelter through Katlena’s introduction when Miro Rosway and Merlin Newtide arrived at the Foreign Office.

Loggia Laxpelter had silver hair that was drenched in blue rain. 

She was objectively stunning, and she exuded extravagant elegance. She, who appeared to be a few years older than Katlena, gazed at the late-arriving Miro, swiping up her loosely worn spectacles, and then stood up to him, a strange kind of favor over her sharp expression.

“If you are a young man with a pointy-ear that follows Shaurillin Inborgia in the territory of Roschodur, perhaps your Sir Rosway?”

“Yes I am.”

Miro unintentionally fixed his sight on the woman’s chest in response. Naturally, the stare treatment left an unfavorable effect.

Shaurillin, on the other hand, gave him a rare, confused smile. 

Merlin Newtide triangularly opened her eyes and gazed at Miro, as if scrutinizing him. Miro only removed his eyes belatedly after feeling the stare of judgment.

He swore he’d never met such a person in his forty years on human land. 

Miro Rosway paused for a while, unsure whether it was the foreign secretary’s personal secret or an overheard conversation. 

Despite Miro’s concerns, the woman who caught his glance and raised the corners of her lips put an end to his concerns with an intriguing tone. It happened right before Miro was going to apologize.

“Are you embarrassed? It doesn’t appear to have a realistic shape, but it does.”