HPV 54

He asked who I had shared the stone with.

…Was he asking who held the other half of it?

It was definitely an interrogation, but there was nothing harsh about it. Instead, those red eyes looked so earnest, without a hint of threat.

“…No one,”

I murmured, feeling as if my body was gently swaying in a warm current, caught in a quiet shock.

“I didn’t know that stone had any tradition attached to it. I was carrying it without knowing.”

“No one gave it to you?”

“I picked it up off the ground by myself. It has nothing to do with anyone.”

He stared at me for a long time…then gently placed the stone back into my belongings, leaned against the tree, and closed his eyes.

As he shut his eyes, it was as if he also carried away my gaze along with him.

I kept watching the man as he sank into the darkness. Why had Banwes asked something like that? It wasn’t teasing or mocking—he had asked so seriously.

And why had I answered so seriously too? Why had I felt that I couldn’t afford to answer carelessly?

Turning my head slowly, I caught sight of Penzey, who was resting his chin on his hand outside his blanket, staring at me.

The blunt features of his face were drawn into a knowing smile.

I suddenly grew embarrassed and looked away.

…If I may speak of the future for a moment,from the next day on, I would no longer see that sly smile from Penzey.

***

Once we entered the northern region, the temperature dropped further.

The lush green trees disappeared, replaced by trees with tough, unfamiliar leaves.

I wore a thicker outer coat.

We parted ways with Gabie in a nearby village. It turned out he had already entrusted all his belongings to this village, planning to leave the temple forever.

He had also been secretly corresponding with his lover. They must have even prepared a house where they could live quietly together.

Yurichen deliberately turned a blind eye to all of it and said nothing.

“Thank you for guiding me.”

Gabie bowed his head deeply, offering his farewell to the High Priest. But a priest about to start a future with his lover could no longer receive a blessing from the light.

“…I did not guide you.”

“I am sorry.”

Gabie bit his lip and silently withdrew. Even when met with the cold gaze of a being as lofty as a High Priest, he would not take back his decision.

He had chosen this path.

Even without divine blessings, he would surely build a fulfilling life with his lover.

A senior priest who had taken the vow of celibacy abandoning his position and fleeing—in Yurichen’s world, that must be considered a grave sin.

Having never lived a life of serving a god, I could both understand it… and not.

It was High Priest Daamil’s name that had saved Gabie. Without that, the miracle of Gabie safely withdrawing before Yurichen would never have happened.

Gabie’s figure disappeared into the distance.

Penzey stared at the unmoving Yurichen for a long time.

“Falling in love doesn’t mean you betray God,” Penzey eventually muttered aloud.

It was what he had been thinking but couldn’t quite accept.

The High Priest dwelling in the temple, and the free-spirited mage—their values clashed.

“Did he not make a vow? Did he not swear that his body and soul belonged to God? He broke that vow, and thus he is unforgivable. Only because Lord Gaioh is merciful was he spared divine punishment.”

Yurichen, raising his voice slightly, spat out bitter words after Gabie had left.

Penzey didn’t argue, but he muttered quietly, “You’re never going to get divine punishment, huh.”

The weight of High Priest Daamil being sixty years old and Yuricheon being twenty-nine was completely different.

Respect and envy gathered naturally around the young and powerful. Once people called him someone monopolizing divine favor, shadows naturally began to form behind him.

There were groups silently watching, hoping he would fall into divine disgrace even once.

Yurichen had pushed away all those dark undercurrents to stand where he was.

He bore the noble destiny of leading the hunt against the black dragon.

And even in the game, Yurichen was the one who used the “Divine Punishment” skill, never the one who received it.

That was something impossible.

As we continued north, suddenly, figures appeared behind us, hiding their identities and surrounding our group.

The moment I saw them, I knew.

It’s starting.

I pressed my lips quietly.

“You will need to explain yourselves for blocking our path,” Yurichen warned in a low voice, his veil covering his face.

At least the opponents showed no clear hostility. An older man in uniform, seemingly their leader, carefully asked for Yurichen’s understanding.

Then his gaze fell on one person in our group.

Penzey, locking eyes with the man, stiffened slightly.

The man, Baron Hayden, conveyed the news to him.

“The Count has passed away.”

It was news of his father’s death.

Penje Ikaran.

The young master of the Ikaran Count’s family, famous for producing outstanding mages for generations.

“…So that’s how it is,” he said.

But by now, there were more people who didn’t even know that Penzey’s family name was “Ikaran,” because he was considered the shame of the Mage Tower.

Even Paronai was staring at him wide-eyed. Penzey had never spoken about his family. Of course, he had never mentioned his father’s illness either.

“I didn’t get anything from that man… but I guess they came to fetch me to pay my respects.”

“Yes.”

The conversation between the young master and his retainer about his father’s death was extremely flat.

Baron Hayden waited quietly for Penzey’s reply, as if there was nothing strange about it.

Penzey glanced once at Yurichen, and eventually gave a reluctant nod, signaling that he would indeed attend his biological father’s funeral.

He didn’t seem willing, but he had no choice but to step foot back into his homeland.

Once again, our schedule was delayed. But I didn’t feel any sense of danger.

Because visiting the Count’s manor after the death of the Count was part of the story.

“Lead the way. You’re the ones blocking the road, so why are you looking at me like you have complaints?”

Penzey ignored all formalities, speaking not like the young heir of a noble house, but like some ordinary drifter.

Then, I noticed a woman behind Baron Hayden, her face hidden by a hood.

Something about her caught my attention.

“Before that, please present yourself properly before the Lord,” said Hyden.

“What are you talking about?”

Penzey feigned ignorance.

“Return to your former appearance, young master.”

The woman was an alchemist.

As soon as Baron Hayden spoke, she threw a vial to the ground, and it burst at Penzey’s feet with a puff of smoke.

A fellow mage could never undo Penzey’s transformation magic.

So they had borrowed another art—a kind of magic that had branched off from classical magecraft.

Penzey, who was a 6th-circle archmage yet had only ever shown himself using 3rd-circle spells, had maintained a transformation spell to disguise himself with the remaining 3 circles.

And now, that transformation was broken—by alchemy that could make a person ten years younger for several days.

The plain, unremarkable features that looked like they had been molded from clay—peeled away like a mask, revealing a completely different face underneath.

It even seemed like Penzey had shrunk slightly. He was briefly flustered but quickly clenched his jaw.

He moved as if to cover his face…then stopped and defiantly lifted his chin. His skin reflected a strange light, sometimes pale and bright, sometimes ominous depending on the angle.

Eyes that slanted up like a cat’s, a delicate face like a lone crescent moon shining sharply in the night sky.

Dark brown hair,and eerie violet eyes I had never seen before— It was the beautiful face he had always bragged about.

Penzey Ikaran, the one who loathed his own beauty so much that he disguised himself with transformation magic, and yet loved beauties above all else.

His contradiction was now exposed to the group.

“As if I would miss the chance to show this face to my father,” he said, scolding the retainer who had forced alchemy upon him.

The horrifyingly beautiful mage’s eyes flashed like a demon. He spoke with a voice so refined that he could easily have passed for any nobleman.

The alchemist was trembling violently, almost pitifully—but for a slightly different reason.

“Uh, uh, wh-what do we do? The alchemy’s range got too wide!”

Only after hearing that did I realize the smoke filling the area and a slight wave of nausea. Suddenly, the clothes I was wearing grew huge.

The bloated fabric swallowed up my hands and legs.

My loose clothes, which had already been a little big, now drooped to the ground like a sack.

“R-Ria…! Your body shrank!”

Instead of pointing that out to me, Paronai should’ve checked himself first. He was going through the same thing.

Everyone in the group had reverted to their bodies from ten years ago.

In my case, I became ten years old.

Grunting, I wriggled my short arms out of the sleeves.

The sleeves folded over my arms again and again.

My small shoulders barely managed to hold up the heavy outer garment.

I quickly pulled the hood over my head and hid inside the clothing.

My body was small enough that my clothes became a makeshift tent.

I stumbled around inside, checking myself. Fortunately, there wasn’t a single bruise anywhere. Just one yellowish bruise on my side, something that seemed to have formed long ago.

It must’ve been a day I didn’t get beaten.