HPV 55

I hurriedly lifted my head, taking advantage of the confusion so no one would notice I was checking my body.

As I looked around, my eyes met Banwes’s.

Banwes didn’t seem to care at all that his appearance had changed slightly.

The one who couldn’t look away was me — and not in a good way. My mouth fell open. I must have been shocked.

If I had dropped from twenty years old to ten, Banwes had dropped from thirty to twenty. He hadn’t changed much at all.

The imposing aura of a grown man had faded a little, giving him the face of a young adult, and maybe his arms and chest had slimmed down a bit — that was about it.

I, on the other hand, had become tiny.

Banwes’s gaze, which had been wandering around where my head should have been — still surprisingly low — kept drifting downward in disbelief, until he finally spotted me practically glued to the floor, and his face turned pale.

Already small to begin with, I looked even more pitiful now, shriveled from years of mistreatment.

No matter how much I tried to blame it on the lean lifestyle of a priest, Banwes wouldn’t buy it. To him, I was literally just a bundle of flesh. A newborn cub, helpless and tiny.

‘…What if he’s so shocked he refuses to kiss me ever again, even after I go back to normal? I’ll die if that happens.’

I had to prove, quickly, that my mind hadn’t regressed along with my body.

I straightened my spine and squared my shoulders, staring him down firmly —just like when I first escaped and met him, or when I first greeted Yurichen, with the poise of a young noble raised in luxury.

But my legs, without me doing anything, started trembling.

Either I had pushed myself too hard, or there was some kind of psychological damage.

‘Is the sensation lingering in the body actually affecting me too?

Even though it’s been ten years already…’

The alchemist, trembling all over, began begging for forgiveness.

Alchemy materials and techniques were strictly regulated, so if this kind of failure — dragging five others into it, no less — got reported to the royal palace, she would be executed without mercy.

But to report it, they would need to submit a full account of the incident, along with every material used.

Terrified, the alchemist kept glancing nervously at Yurichen, who clearly looked like the leader of our group.

If Yurichen so much as said “report it,” it would be over. But Yurichen’s mind was elsewhere. He stood there, staring blankly at the mage who had lost his mask.

Even though he himself had been caught in the same spell and was now back to his nineteen-year-old self, he didn’t seem the least bit concerned.

The High Priest already knew the mage’s secret.

There was no way he couldn’t.

When we’d first encountered him near the outskirts of the royal capital, a completely different face had introduced itself as “Penzey Ikaran.”

It was a wonder Yurichen hadn’t called him out on it back then. And even now, he hadn’t said a word — not until the truth accidentally came out like this.

Meanwhile, Paronai, who had been flailing around shouting “What the heck! We’re tiny now!” was now turning to look at each of his companions, one by one.

And then, he froze at one. The others, at least, still resembled themselves, just younger. But one of them was a different case altogether.

“…Penzey?”

Paronai, clutching the hem of his pants that now dragged along the ground, hopped over to Penzey.

The mage’s sharp eyes were still the same, but his slender, elegant figure now seemed to exude a faint, chilling aura.

Faced with Paronai’s wide-eyed, innocent gaze, the mage looked as though he might melt away under the pressure.

Paronai’s small mouth opened, and —he blurted out the very thing the magician least wanted to hear.

“You’re… really handsome.”

The mage muttered a curse under his breath.

While Paronai stood there, blinking in confusion, Penzey brushed past him. He clapped Baron Hayden on the shoulder, signaling him to take the lead.

Penzey walked side by side with his own kinsman, deliberately ignoring the rest of us trailing behind.

Thanks to Paronai now looking like a nine-year-old, their relationship had barely survived. You couldn’t exactly curse out a child, after all.

***

When we arrived at the count’s estate, Penzey was immediately swarmed by a group of retainers and disappeared with them.

Despite arriving at the land where his father — now officially his brother — was the new lord, Penzey made no effort to secure lodgings for the companions who had traveled with him.

He didn’t want to face us with his original appearance. It was Baron Hayden who took care of us instead. He guided us to a villa not far from the count’s castle.

Regardless of Penzey’s standing within his family, now that the family head had died, every blood relative of his was considered a guardian of his legacy —and by extension, we were treated as honored guests.

“Where do we go to pay our respects?”

Once we were left alone with a few servants in the uncomfortably luxurious mansion, Paronai spoke to Yurichen.

Since he now looked like a nine-year-old child, the gloomy expression on his face felt even heavier.

Of course, Yurichen, whose height hadn’t diminished even a finger’s breadth, stood as composed as ever.

“We need to go to the place prepared for the territory’s people to offer condolences. We can’t go directly to where the deceased will be buried. If we tried, we would have to disclose all our identities and secrets.”

Paronai looked disappointed.

No matter how harshly Penzey had treated him just before, he still really wanted to attend his friend’s father’s funeral.

But now, ironically, his duty as a hero stood in his way. Instead of throwing a tantrum, Paronai plopped down on the sofa and changed the subject.

“Why did he hide that face? He’s so good-looking. It’s such a waste.”

Regarding Penzey’s changed appearance, Banwes didn’t care at all, and Bzhan didn’t seem to find it important either.

Yurichen, having already known, was calm about it. In a way, Paronai might be the only one reacting in a perfectly normal, human way.

“Maybe he’s hiding because he’s a really big criminal? He already seems to have a… colorful record, but if there’s something even worse…”

Yurichen reached out and took the Holy Sword from Paronai. He intended to carry it temporarily until the spell wore off. It wasn’t that Paronai couldn’t lift the sword anymore —it was just that the blade was now longer than his whole body, making it awkward to handle.

“Paronai. From this moment on, forget about Penzey’s mask. Penzey just changed his face for fun. Understand?”

Yurichen bent his knees to meet little Paronai’s eyes. It looked exactly like an adult lecturing a child.

Riarun stayed quiet, trying not to disrupt the flow of the situation. Even the clothes Bzhan had lent him were too big, and he was folding up the cuffs.

Paronai, who was a year younger, had fit perfectly into Bzhan’s clothes —their growth had gone completely opposite directions.

“Hey, did the spell just not work on Bzhan?”

Paronai glanced at the struggling Liarun, then down at his own shrunken body, then pointed to Bzhan, who was perched on one of the beams.

There wasn’t a single difference before and after the spell. If ten years ago he had been eight years old, and he looked the same back then as now, it meant he had kept the same body for ten whole years.

“Elves are supposed to live for a thousand years, huh…” Paronai shuddered slightly.

Yurichen, like a teacher looking after his students, gently checked on both of them before heading toward the door.

There, he fixed his gaze on a man standing by the entrance.

“I have a personal connection with Count Ikaran. As a clergyman, I must participate in his funeral procession to fulfill my duty. In the meantime, please look after Riarun and Paronai. I entrust them to you.”

Riarun and Paronai were equally aggrieved. Their bodies might have gotten smaller, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still themselves —and yet, Banwes had suddenly become the only “adult” among them.

Banwes, who had been asked the favor, looked visibly pale. Yurichen, unaware, left the house.

It was only after the High Priest’s presence completely vanished that Paronai quickly stood up, threw a black cloak over his clothes, and declared,

“I’m going out for a walk.”

Banwes didn’t even care whether he went out alone or not. Ever since the alchemist’s smoke had touched him earlier, Banwes’s soul had seemed adrift. And he couldn’t even bring himself to look at Riarun—a child who was too small to reach the rope to call a servant for bathwater.

He had called him a child, a child, but he had never truly thought of him this young. And yet, he had kissed him, wanted to touch him, reached out for him—Now the small figure before him and the memory of those red lips overlapped in his mind, and he was crushed by an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Even though he knew he felt absolutely nothing improper toward this young version, Banwes still wanted to bash his own head against a rock.

Even a ravenous beast wouldn’t behave this way. It was against the laws of nature. He was no better than a demon.

“…Can you pull the rope for me?”

Banwes snapped back to himself at the sound of Riarun’s voice.

He stumbled over and, without even realizing it, pulled the rope for him.