Chapter 40

In a narrow alley of Lemarnus, an old man trembled as he walked the streets, leaning heavily on his cane. He wandered aimlessly here and there until he stopped in front of a mansion on a street lined with noble estates on the city's outskirts.

The old man glanced at the nameplate hanging on the mansion's fence.

[Mandolin Family]

After confirming it, he turned around and headed toward the back of the mansion.

"Ho ho ho..."

Whenever someone passed by, he would smile like a kindly old man. People bowed politely to him as they went on their way.

Behind the mansion, the old man stood before a forest that led into the mountains. He glanced around cautiously before stepping into the woods.

Once he had gone deep enough into the forest, the old man straightened his hunched back with a tremendous cracking sound-crack! Crack!

Standing upright, he quickly removed the disguise mask he had been wearing over his face.

"Phew... Even disguises are getting tiresome now."

It was William.

He had been investigating Carlo at Henrik's request. Today, he had received word from Henrik, who had gone to the Academy, that Oliver had canceled his lecture. William had come out to investigate the reason.

'Oliver Mandolin was famous for never canceling lectures... and now he's suddenly canceled without prior notice...'

Something was definitely going on.

Oliver's diligence was so well-known that it had spread beyond the Academy to the city's residents.

Whoosh!

With nimble movements, William climbed high into a tree and looked down at the mansion. He switched the lens on his monocle glasses, using them like a telescope to peer through the windows into the mansion.

Inside, servants were bustling about, but there was no sign of Carlo or Oliver.

"Hmm..."

William folded his glasses and tucked them into his breast pocket, then approached the mansion's back gate. There, he caught the faint scent of the tracking scent he had secretly applied to Oliver earlier.

To others, it would smell like ordinary perfume, but it was a tracking scent William had personally formulated-one only he could distinguish.

Looking at the ground, he saw footprints pressed into the dirt.

'Judging by the depth, he was running. The stride isn't consistent. These are traces of someone running urgently, as if being chased.'

William's eyes sharpened.

He quickly followed the footprints deeper into the forest.

'Based on the size of the footprints, the owner of these shoes is Oliver. Following behind are slightly larger footprints. Who could that be?'

He tilted his head in puzzlement.

The other footprints roughly resembled Carlo's. If so, the mystery deepened even further.

What reason could there be for a son to flee so urgently from his father? It was puzzling.

'Could it be... practical training? A secret Mandolin family training method that people don't know about? It seems these people train quite rigorously as well.'

Well, when it came to practical training, he had some expertise himself.

Feeling strangely sympathetic, William reached the end of the footprints and was shocked by the devastating scene around him.

"What on earth is this..."

At the end of the trail of footprints, the scars of battle were laid bare, as if from a fight. Trees had been slashed and broken, the ground was gouged out, and even the leaves on the ground had been trampled flat.

It was well-known that Carlo was a strict father to his son, but there couldn't be a madman who would train his son this way.

'This is killing intent. These are definitely attacks made with the intent to kill.'

William's expression grew serious.

'...The cuts are clean. He must have used aura as well. Was this the intervention of an outsider, not Carlo?'

Combat leaves traces, and tracking those traces was William's specialty.

After examining the cut surfaces of the trees, William fell into thought.

He had applied the tracking scent because Oliver was Carlo's son, but he had never imagined he would discover traces like these.

Countless sword marks remained.

"..."

As William carefully observed them, he discovered one peculiar detail.

The sword trajectory-it was a very familiar sword trajectory that had carved the sword marks into the ground.

Sword marks that looked like a whirlwind had swept through.

This technique was unique to the Mandolin family's swordsmanship.

However, the sword marks carved into the ground were too perfect and efficient to have been executed by Oliver-they were transformed into a form closer to actual combat.

'Could it be... this swordsmanship! Did Carlo really execute this? But...'

However.

There was something that made it difficult to believe it was Carlo.

The trajectory of the sword swung to the right was at an angle that Carlo, who had no right arm and only used his left, could never have created.

'Or was it Oliver?'

That was also impossible. The physique was different.

This was the spacing created by someone with a large build. If Oliver had swung it, it would mean he had split his legs wide while swinging, which was impossible.

'If Carlo had used swordsmanship employing his right arm, it would make sense...'

William's eyes sparkled.

'I see... there's definitely something here.'

Now he understood why Henrik had asked him to investigate Carlo.

He pulled out his notebook and began recording detailed notes about the scene. Even as he did so, he continued following the tracking scent. Based on the strength of the scent, it seemed to have occurred sometime during the night or at dawn.

'The father displayed clear killing intent toward his son while executing swordsmanship... and swordsmanship that actively utilized his right arm at that...'

As he continued following the tracking scent, it circled back around to Carlo's mansion.

But the peculiar thing was that the two sets of footprints had suddenly reduced to one.

From this, he could deduce that either someone had carried an unconscious person back, or they had parted ways midway and one had returned alone.

However, throughout following the tracking scent, he couldn't find any trace of Oliver being abandoned. But judging by the large footprints, these weren't Oliver's footprints. That meant he could predict that Carlo had carried the unconscious Oliver back to the mansion.

'I'll need to report this to Henrik as well.'

William pulled out his notebook and jotted down a memo.

* * *

Meanwhile, Henrik had finished his lecture and was working in his office. As a professor, he needed to create new potions, compile field guides, and write papers to submit to academic societies.

Just as he was diligently moving his quill pen,

Knock knock, someone rapped on the door.

"Come in."

At Henrik's words, someone gently opened the door and entered.

"Professor."

Looking up, he saw Carmine approaching, waving a letter back and forth. Carmine handed the letter to Henrik and asked,

"When did you become friends with William anyway?"

"Recently."

"...Really?"

"Has your curiosity been satisfied a bit?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you want, I can keep the tail on him a bit longer."

"Haha..."

At Henrik's words, Carmine scratched his head with an awkward smile.

"...Well, there wasn't really anything special to find."

"I figured as much. It's all been in the newspapers already."

Henrik nodded and opened the envelope. Inside were various pieces of information William had investigated about Carlo.

"William asked me to pass this along to you, Professor."

"Got it. You can go."

"Yes. Oh, Professor."

Carmine, who had been about to leave, stopped abruptly and turned back toward Henrik.

"The potion-I received it well. Thank you."

"Make sure you don't miss that perfect score next time either."

"Yes, sir."

After Carmine closed the door and left, Henrik quietly began reading through William's report with focus.

"..."

The report contained quite interesting information.

Twenty years ago, during the Unification War, Carlo had lost his wife to an enemy knight and secluded himself in his study.

He frequently exchanged knowledge with Professor Bena, sharing high-level magical theories. Various details like these filled the pages.

'Magical knowledge...'

It wasn't particularly difficult or unusual for a knight to learn magic. But the problem was that he could converse with and exchange ideas with a professor of magic as an equal.

The fact that Bena's research had progressed rapidly after receiving Carlo's advice also suggested it wasn't just casual suggestions from a layman's perspective, but deep, expert-level guidance.

Turning to the next page, Henrik found the investigation results regarding Oliver's class cancellation today.

Reading through it carefully, Henrik felt something suspicious about Carlo.

The sword trajectory.

William was a seasoned veteran, a butler who had served the MacClane Clan for a long time. Naturally skilled in combat, it was hard to believe he had miscalculated this.

'He swung his sword in a trajectory impossible without a right arm.'

Suddenly, Henrik recalled the question William had asked at the banquet.

[Can you create an arm with magic?]

Grimory had answered that it was impossible.

But the traces of combat, and the sword trajectory discovered there, left marks as if Carlo had a right arm.

It was suspicious enough.

He needed to investigate thoroughly.

He felt he could only be certain after hearing the specific details of Carlo's suspicious points and Oliver's reason for canceling class.

Henrik slipped William's report into his coat, stood up, and headed for the dean's office.

At the top floor of the Academy Main Building, at the end of a long corridor, a large door came into view. Henrik flung it open.

"Ted."

"Jesus! Could you knock before entering?!"

Ted, who had been working on documents, was startled by Henrik's sudden visit and knocked over his inkwell.

"Haah..."

He looked at the documents stained black with ink and clutched his head with a sigh.

"Ted, this is urgent."

"What now? Did a demon pop up somewhere? Where?"

"Oliver."

"Professor Oliver? He's a demon?"

"No, I need to hear why Professor Oliver canceled his classes."

"Professor Oliver's reason for canceling?"

When Henrik quietly nodded, Ted tossed over the ink-stained absence form.

"Carlo, Professor Oliver's father and Department Head, submitted it on his behalf. Sick leave. Apparently he suddenly came down with a fever yesterday and collapsed in bed. It's nothing serious, so-"

"Got it. Oh, but..."

As if remembering something, Henrik asked.

"Is it possible to restore a severed human arm with magic?"

"How would that be possible? You'd be better off asking a necromancer or a demon about that! And...!"

"Got it."

After hearing the answer, Henrik swept out of the dean's office, leaving Ted clenching his fists and trembling.

"If you're going to ask, you should at least listen to the end."

* * *

Several days later, Oliver's lectures showed no sign of resuming. Amecitia worried about him as well, but his sick leave continued far longer than anyone expected.

The students grew anxious as his absence dragged on.

Henrik pondered.

According to William's report, the last traces of Oliver led inside the mansion, making it difficult to track him further.

At the very least, it meant Oliver was staying inside the mansion continuously, yet he hadn't sent any word to the outside.

'Something happened.'

It was hard to see Oliver's sick leave as a simple sick leave. The timing coincided too perfectly, like a coincidence that fit together just right-he couldn't help but think Oliver had gotten caught up in this incident.

Around that time.

Someone urgently called for Henrik.

"Professor Henrik!!!"

He turned around to see a woman whose face he'd seen once before running toward him, gasping for breath.

"Professor... please, please help me."

Tears streaming down her face, she grabbed Henrik's coat.

At her sudden words, Henrik maintained his composure as best he could and helped her to her feet.

"What's the matter, Julia?"

"Oliver... Oliver... has disappeared."

"Disappeared...? Wasn't it sick leave?"

"It can't be sick leave! Nothing like this has ever happened before!"