[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 236: White Night Festival (4)

The enormous hall where the White Night Festival’s annual presentations were held.

A gasp of admiration slipped from Veronica's lips as she stepped inside.

“...It’s huge.”

“It’s about the size of ten of our academy's training fields combined.”

She didn’t really have a sense of how big that actually was, but one thing was clear: it was ridiculously massive.

And more than that, unlike most spaces of this size which tend to be crude, this one was different.

The floor was covered with a carpet that was soft yet firm, and the walls were adorned with beautiful carvings.

Even the chandeliers covering the ceiling looked like they could make someone rich if sold.

“Is that the stage?”

“Yeah, all the mage towers are going to present there today.”

A massive, majestic stage.

Beneath it, imperial clerks moved around in perfect sync, aligning the tables with military precision.

Their orderly movements made Veronica mutter under her breath.

“...Must be because it’s the imperial family. Even the workers are top-tier.”

“The clerks? That’s because they’ve been trained for this since childhood. They’re all from noble families.”

“Nobles? Those people are nobles?”

Veronica’s eyes widened as she looked at them again.

To her, nobles were always the kind of people walking around in fancy, elegant clothes.

Reading her thoughts perfectly, Fran shrugged his shoulders.

“Not all nobles rule territories or run businesses. Becoming an imperial clerk brings a lot of benefits and honor to the family, so it’s a highly sought-after job. The competition’s brutal.”

“I see...”

Realizing how little she knew about the world, Veronica suddenly felt a little embarrassed.

“A-anyway, where’s our seat?”

“The presentation hall is divided into three main sectors.”

Leaning against the railing, Fran gestured as he explained.

“The area right below the stage is for VIPs—high-ranking nobles, the leaders of the mage towers and sword houses, corporate heads, members of the imperial family, high-ranking clergy, and so on.”

In other words, it was for the key figures of the empire.

Then Fran pointed to the second-floor seats where they were currently standing.

“These seats are for the eight mage towers and five sword houses. See the colors?”

“Oh, right.”

Each section was painted in the representative color of its mage tower.

The sword houses, which didn’t have specific colors, had their crests engraved on the headrests instead.

“What about the seats even further back?”

From the third to fifth floors—farther behind their own assigned seats—

Rows and rows of gray seats stretched out, vastly outnumbering the others.

But being so far from the stage, it made Veronica wonder if people could even see anything from there.

“Oh, those are for regular citizens who bought tickets to watch the event.”

“Seems like a waste of money if they can’t see the stage.”

“They use magic to project the stage on a big screen, so it’s fine.”

It sounded plausible, so Veronica nodded.

“Citizens can participate too, huh?”

“White Night Festival is an event for all imperial citizens...”

Fran trailed off, then asked,

“Is this your first time attending the festival?”

“...I never really had any interest in it before.”

For someone claiming that, she was clearly fascinated by everything she saw.

Just from the sparkle in her eyes, it was obvious she was thoroughly enjoying the moment.

‘The reason she never came before... is it because she was alone?’

Knowing Veronica's personality, it wouldn’t have been easy for her to join group activities just because she happened to be in the same tower as others she didn’t know well.

Sensing her true feelings, Fran gave a gentle smile.

“From now on, let’s come every year with Oscar and Killian.”

“...Do whatever you want.”

Veronica mumbled back and quickly changed the subject.

“A-anyway, let’s sit down already. My legs hurt.”

As the two approached the seats assigned to the White Tower, their expressions turned strange.

Among the White Tower mages, they spotted some wearing red robes.

“Do you not understand plain language? I said get lost.”

“Is that how you talk to people?”

Facing off against the Red Tower mages were Benjamin and Sylvia—

The same two who had served as de facto leaders during the training camp with Oscar.

Even after that, their loyalty to Oscar was so strong that they remained exceptionally respectful even to their peers.

Fran approached and asked,

“Benjamin, Sylvia. What’s going on?”

“Ah, senior!”

A wave of relief swept across their faces as they saw him.

They quickly stepped over to Fran and explained the situation.

“These Red Tower guys keep trying to force us to switch seats.”

“...Switch seats?”

“Yeah.”

Answering that was a familiar face from the Red Tower.

Staring at him closely, Fran tried to recall his name.

“Leo Brult, was it?”

“Good memory.”

A mage from the Red Tower who had opposed the White Tower to the end during the Night of the Mages.

Of course, he had been thoroughly crushed by Oscar’s tactics, and then beaten down by Killian before retreating in disgrace.

Now he glared at them with pride in his eyes.

“The seats given to the Red Tower are to the left of the stage—it’s hard to see from there. Meanwhile, the White Tower’s seats are front and center, offering a perfect view.”

“So?”

“What do you mean ‘so’? I’m saying switch seats with us.”

His boldness made Fran hesitate for a moment.

Was it possible they were the ones who had accidentally taken the wrong seats assigned to the Red Tower?

At that moment, Benjamin and Sylvia quickly spoke up in support.

“Stop whining. These seats were assigned by the imperial court.”

“Yeah! And who do you think you’re talking to like that? He’s your senior!”

“Hah. Senior? Maybe back when we all attended the same academy. But now we’re in different mage towers. What senior?”

Leo Brult sneered and twisted his face in disgust.

“Why bother watching the performance when you lot are going to be kicked out of the Four Great Towers after this White Night Festival anyway? Just sit quietly in a corner.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

A royal administrator approached when he heard the raised voices.

After Fran explained the situation, the man firmly shook his head.

“Each faction’s seating is distributed fairly every year. Voluntarily switching seats is not allowed.”

“You heard that, didn’t you?”

Sylvia, looking proud, crossed her arms.

Leo Brult’s face contorted in frustration.

“You clueless nobodies...”

“I think the clueless one here is you.”

Veronica finally spoke up, unable to listen anymore.

“Don’t make me beat you down again. Leave while I’m still being nice.”

“……”

At her words, Leo quickly glanced around.

Realizing that Oscar and Killian weren’t present, he growled lowly.

“Without those two around, scum like you don’t even stand a chance against me.”

“Leo, let’s just go back.”

“…Tch. Fine.”

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Before the situation could escalate, his fellow mages stepped in to stop him, and Leo clicked his tongue and turned away.

“Oh, right.”

He turned his head slightly and gave a sinister smirk.

“Congratulations in advance on getting kicked out of the Four Great Towers.”

“…I don’t repeat myself three times.”

As Veronica began gathering her mana, the Red Tower mages quickly left.

“Thank you, seniors.”

“Oh, this is nothing. Do they harass you often like this?”

“Not usually, since we live in the White Tower. We don’t have much reason to clash… but whenever we run into members of the other towers outside, it’s always like this. The Red Tower is especially bad.”

Red, Blue, and Yellow Towers.

Among them, the Red Tower had many bloodline purists, which made things worse.

To put an end to this kind of persecution, the White Tower simply had to become stronger.

“Um… Senior Veronica.”

Sylvia cautiously opened her mouth.

“Is it true our tower will really be kicked out of the Four Great Towers after this White Night Festival?”

“……”

Veronica couldn’t easily respond.

She wanted to deny it outright, call it nonsense… but—

‘According to the rumors, that might not be the case.’

The royal family had said they would observe the White Tower until this year’s festival, hadn’t they?

But would the results the White Tower achieved this year be enough to prevent its expulsion?

With no clear answer, Veronica found herself unable to speak.

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

At that moment, Fran smiled brightly and cut in.

“Our White Tower mages worked so hard this past year. Right, Becky?”

“…Yeah, they did.”

Veronica reluctantly agreed, though she couldn’t help questioning it inside.

Everyone works hard.

What matters isn’t the effort—but the results.

‘Results, huh…’

Would the content the White Tower was about to present truly satisfy everyone—especially the Emperor?

Even as a White Tower mage herself, she felt uncertain.

Veronica imagined a future where the White Tower was no longer one of the Four Great Towers.

‘We’re already getting harassed like this—what would it be like then?’

In all likelihood, some mages would leave the tower.

The White Tower, deemed the weakest in all respects, only managed to stay afloat thanks to the privileges of being one of the Four Great Towers.

‘But if we lose even that, we’ll have nothing left.’

It would become nothing more than a once-great tower whose light had long since faded.

Veronica clenched her fists.

“There’s nothing we can do right now anyway. All we can do is believe and support them.”

And the one they were supposed to support now was the person about to give the presentation.

Realizing that made Veronica suddenly angry.

“Ugh, and just where the hell is he?!”

* * *

The magical presentation—the highlight of the White Night Festival—had begun.

Not a single seat in the grand hall was empty.

Watching from backstage, a lone figure groaned.

“Uuuugh…”

It was Schwein Koch.

A senior of the White Tower, he was struggling to contain his nerves.

He had spent eight years on this research, enduring the hardships by holding on to the hope of this very moment.

‘But…’

The person who was supposed to be beside him at this critical moment had yet to arrive.

Sure, he could present it alone if needed—but Ouroboros was a different matter.

‘For some reason, the spell’s output fluctuates when I cast it myself.’

Oscar’s version of Ouroboros, on the other hand, was remarkably stable.

Its output never wavered even for a second.

That level of control reflected a deeper understanding of the magic than Schwein himself possessed.

‘Even though I’ve spent eight years studying this spell, he understands it better than I do…’

It had to be the difference in raw talent.

Which was exactly why he needed Oscar.

What if the spell’s output went unstable and the airship crashed onto the stage?

No—what if it crashed into the audience?

“Uuugh…”

Schwein’s face turned pale at the horrifying thought.

The tension even triggered a bout of hiccups.

‘A spell to stop hiccups…’

With shaking hands, he began to draw a magic circle—but the complexity of Ouroboros made him wonder whether he could manage it at all.

Just then—

“Knotted Breath.”

Someone cast the spell for him, instantly stopping his hiccups.

“Ah, thank y—”

He turned to express his gratitude—and his eyes widened.

“O-Oscar! You’re here!”

“Long time no see, Elder.”

Oscar smiled gently and spoke with calm confidence.

“I’m not late, am I?”

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]