Ch.589Episode 21 – Peace in Our Time

In the office where the aroma of coffee beans subtly permeated the air.

On the table that usually held countless documents, only a single paper knife sat lonely.

Francesca slowly read the letter in her hand.

The sender was the priest of Al Yabud, the world’s greatest sorcerer. The handwriting penned by her own hand reflected in Francesca’s violet-like eyes.

The great sorcerer did not spare praise for her former comrade who once crossed the line between life and death, an unparalleled great alchemist.

The alchemist’s descendant discerned the purpose within the priest’s message.

It contained a request to attend an upcoming international event in the Lushan Federation, along with a plea to meet her in person if possible.

Francesca silently put down the letter.

The moment it left her touch, the paper was engulfed in bright red flames, crumbling into gray ash in her palm.

The alchemist easily recognized this as the result of an intricate yet aesthetic spell left by the sorcerer.

A magical incantation described in the ancestral records she had seen in her family’s archives as a child.

Francesca believed she recognized Zeinab Eskander’s sorcery purely because of those records. Her ancestor and founder of the Ranieri family, Giovanni Ranieri, had been one of the great mages involved in establishing the Magic Tower.

Naturally, the priest’s sorcery would have been all too familiar to him.

She had merely studied her ancestor’s legacy and noticed that this was the priest’s magic.

Her ancestor’s legacy had taught her many things.

Countless formulas of great mages beyond her comprehension, records of the ancient great war, the establishment of the Magic Tower and Ivory Tower, and essays on the age-old conflict between clergy and mages that existed somewhere between vividness and cruelty.

The great families born from that process.

-Rustle…

The ash crumbling in her palm.

Francesca caresses it, slowly beginning to trace her memories.

Episode 21 – Peace of Our Time

If one could summarize life in a single sentence, how should it be expressed? In an autobiographical yet instructive sentence.

Once, when a professor at the Magic Tower University posed this question, Francesca had answered without much deliberation.

‘Change and opportunity always arrive without warning.’

Summarizing one’s life in a single sentence as a testament and legacy for future generations had been a long-standing practice among mages.

Facing the Inquisition of the Papal States over thousands of years, mages were always treated as heretics, witches, and devil worshippers. Preserving knowledge was an inevitable choice to protect their dignity and the perpetuity of magic.

In other words, it was a final provision for survival.

Today, when magic has established itself as a legitimate discipline, this practice has devolved into mere epitaphs along with the antiquated apprenticeship system.

However, the habit of pursuing lost traditions amid the turmoil of the Independence War remains a significant agenda shared by the new generation of mages.

The age-old practice of knowledge preservation, passed down from ancient times, has merely changed form but remains a central culture followed by the entire magical society.

The old professor, who taught the future pillars of the Magic Tower, left a review saying that while her sentence was instructive, it was too plain to represent a lifetime. He suggested it wasn’t quite sufficient to represent the daughter of the Ranieri family, inheritors of the great mage’s legacy.

But the decision was never reversed.

Because there was no sentence that could more clearly represent Francesca Ranieri’s life.

*

Memories of the Ranieri family begin with the elementary school entrance ceremony at the academy.

As a child, with hair fluttering in the chilly spring breeze.

While the principal’s speech seemed endless in the cold courtyard, the warmth filling the vast plaza momentarily made everyone forget the chill.

Children and parents were filled with anticipation, celebrating their first steps.

Teachers pledged to embrace the children with passionate love and utmost devotion, promising to judge potential without prejudice and provide education with equal treatment.

Francesca clearly remembered every sentence heard at that entrance ceremony, along with the intonation, pitch, and intensity of each word. Not just that—she could recall which teacher said what and at which point they stumbled over their words.

There was no special reason why the entrance ceremony scene was so vividly imprinted in her mind.

It was because the gazes directed at her when the surname “Ranieri” was called during roll call in her assigned class were so striking.

The girl sitting next to her who had been laughing and chatting just moments before, the boy who couldn’t take his eyes off her peculiar purple hair, and the homeroom teacher who had called her name with a kind voice.

Everyone turned to look at Francesca at once.

And Francesca could never forget the contemptuous gazes the children cast upon her.

At that time, she didn’t understand.

Why the once-friendly gazes of the children had turned so sharp, or why the homeroom teacher repeatedly called her to the faculty office to ask if she was experiencing any discomfort.

At seven years old, Francesca was too young to understand it all.

Only after changing grades did Francesca finally understand why the children had kept their distance. In fact, as she matured, she came to understand many other things as well.

For instance, the difference between the First and Second Republics of Fatalia,

The reason why the father of a child in the next class, once renowned as a tanner, concealed one arm inside his coat,

The background of why the student council president’s family, which ran a thriving business in Frangia, had not returned their headquarters to Fatalia for over a decade after relocating abroad,

And the nature of the jobs held by her older brothers and sisters who followed her like shadows wherever she went.

The blatant ostracism and contempt subsided as years passed, and she had made quite a few friends by now,

But Francesca had already grown half-tired of everything surrounding her.

The wariness that seeped through their tone and gaze even as they praised her as a promising future mage, and the opportunists who approached her attracted by her decent looks and background.

Even the gazes that constantly monitored her every move from a distance—all of it.

Of course, Francesca never showed anger. More precisely, she thought there was no need to be angry.

The idea that those who associate with villains should also be condemned was something that appeared only in fairy tales with clear contrasts between good and evil, promoting moral lessons and karmic retribution.

Fairy tales and reality are distinctly different stories. Above all, the constitution of Fatalia’s Second Republic, which ended dictatorship, explicitly prohibited guilt by association.

The ostracism and contempt others directed at her was because the Ranieri family had actively collaborated with the government during the First Republic, even before she was born.

The reason officials circled around her was to prevent potential contact with subversive elements.

At least, that’s how young Francesca understood it.

But what she truly couldn’t comprehend,

Was the sight of her own blood relatives still entangled in endless greed.

Descendants of the great mage. Was that hollow title so important?

Even now, Francesca couldn’t empathize with her relatives’ obsession.

Perhaps it was important.

As a result of settling for the comfort of a marquis title, the Ranieri family’s magic fell far behind other great mage descendants, and they lost their status with the establishment of the Second Republic.

As the adults would say, this was an unimaginable situation in the distant past.

A prime example of this was Lysidice’s direct line, who held military command of the Magic Tower during the Empire-Magic Realm conflict and fought alongside her.

Originally, Lysidice was a family far inferior to Ranieri.

However, today they have established themselves as key figures in magical society and possess command over the Magic Corps, achieving great prosperity.

Though both were descendants of great mages, Lysidice, once considered inferior, had risen so high that Francesca could well imagine the emptiness and humiliation felt by the Ranieri elders.

In fact, she wasn’t merely imagining it.

The eldest son who had left the family—her brother’s death was a tragedy born from a maddening obsession with hollow fame.

Thus, Francesca grew tired of everything.

A life changing constantly in unfavorable directions. The yoke devouring her own flesh and blood. The desire to climb higher even by passing down the shackles.

It had been a life of constantly fighting against these things.

A life dedicated solely to that purpose.

She crossed over to the Magic Tower to avoid scrutiny. She put on her own shackles because she didn’t want to bear the burden.

One could call it running away, or one could call it giving up. Personally, Francesca thought her decisions were closer to the latter.

It would have been perfect if she could erase even the family name, but unfortunately, that wish could not be fulfilled.

The name Francesca Ranieri wasn’t just a mere surname but part of what constituted her soul.

Just as a sword cannot cut through water, the Ranieri name would forever follow her like a shadow.

This was why she didn’t resist when “Virbana” was given to her colleague. She even felt grateful to her grandmother for making such a decision.

It’s not that she harbored ill feelings toward her ancestor. It’s just that whenever she saw the name of Giovanni Ranieri, the creator of the armor, memories she had tried to forget seemed to resurface.

Already burdened with the “Rune Blade,” she had momentarily worried that “Virbana” might be given to her as well.

Fortunately, Grand Duchess Alexandra Petrovna did not entrust her colleague’s legacy to Francesca.

She didn’t send it back to the main family either, but rather transferred it to a third party unrelated to the Ranieri family, as if distributing an antique.

Though she had never directly asked, the Grand Duchess must have inwardly guessed that she intentionally distanced herself from her family. After all, she was a great mage regardless of what anyone said.

Entrusting “Virbana” to a third party could be seen as a consideration for her friend’s descendant.

In that context,

The dalliance with her colleague wasn’t mere coincidence but rather inevitable.

If the family were to try matchmaking with such schemes, she could use the one-night affair as an excuse.

Though now it could no longer be called a one-night stand or a dalliance.

…Yes.

There’s nothing more to hide.

Francesca, she…

Is passionately in love with a man.

However,

She never imagined there would be other women looking at the same man.

Let alone two of them.

*

After a moment of silence, I lowered my gaze, fingers interlocked.

“……”

What did I just hear?

A conversation that went from a turbulent life story to a heartfelt confession of love?

No, to be precise, it wasn’t a “conversation.” All the words came from Francesca’s mouth; I was merely listening silently.

“I see.”

“That’s right.”

With a composed face, Francesca placed her hands on her knees and replied.

For someone who had just poured out her heart through an elaborate life story, she seemed remarkably unfazed.

“I didn’t expect Sister and Saint Lucia to get involved… Though I had somewhat anticipated Saint Lucia. There were times when the Saint’s gaze toward you would become rather sticky.”

“……”

“She seemed fine when we were in the northern Empire, but after we separated and reunited, her gaze changed. I thought you two might have developed that kind of relationship while I wasn’t aware, but what’s this? I never imagined you were already intimate before you slept with me.”

Once again, I must emphasize that Francesca was speaking as if she truly wasn’t bothered at all.

This was a clear fact. And it absolutely had to be a fact.

I caressed my right wrist, which was “still” firmly attached, and carefully observed her demeanor as she continued her monologue. At a glance, she might have seemed to be suppressing her anger, but “for now” she didn’t appear ready to strangle me.

Francesca repeatedly emphasized that she wasn’t angry. Though I wasn’t sure how much to believe, her assertion that she didn’t regret our relationship seemed quite credible.

“…It’s hard to believe you’re not angry.”

“To be honest, I am. What woman wouldn’t be upset to learn she’s sharing a man with a sworn sister she calls ‘Sister’ without even knowing? And the way it happened… it’s a bit…”

Veronica, who had been eavesdropping from the corner, flinched, her shoulders jerking. Yes, she must have remembered sucking her sister’s breast milk with such enthusiasm.

Francesca let out a faint sigh.

“Well… but it’s not like you and I are officially in a relationship, right?”

“Ah, that fake couple status…”

“Yes. When you think about it, our relationship stemmed from that.”

Fake couple. Yes, looking back now, she was right.

The starting point of this entire relationship was an act to deceive orcs.

Though we almost developed into real lovers, we were still in a relationship that could hardly be called romantic.

Francesca crossed her legs, folded her arms naturally, and looked at me with contemplative eyes.

“It’s been three months… and it’s a knot that needs to be untied someday… That’s why I came along when Sister said she’d arrange this meeting.”

I almost said, “Well, most people would think it strange if you came to a normal conversation dressed like that,” but I exercised patience and held back.

Similarly, questions like “You talk about untying knots, but did you have to float several swords in the air and try to cut off my head?” rose to my throat, but I swallowed them.

“If you don’t seize an opportunity when it comes, you might never be able to turn back.”

This seemed to be the crucial part.

The important turning point that would determine our relationship.

“Sir.”

Francesca asks.

“Do you like me?”

“Our little sister~? This big sister really likes you too-“

“Sister, please be quiet.”

“…Sob.”

After silencing the Saint who had tactlessly interrupted, she asked again with her arms still folded, showing me only her profile as she gazed out the window.

“……”

I slowly unclasped my fingers and answered.

It feels like I’ve pondered this for a very long time.

But the answer could only be this.

“Yes.”

“Let me ask clearly. Do you like me, or do you love me?”

“I love you.”

Francesca turns her head.

“I love you too.”

A warm sensation touches my left cheek, followed by soft lips and a supple tongue, half a beat slower.

Francesca, who had been keeping some distance, suddenly approached and nestled into my arms.

I’m not sure if I embraced her or if she embraced me.

We remained inseparable for a while.

“…Haah.”

As we caught our breath, silver threads stretched between our parted lips.

“I heard from Sister. She said you’re not in a relationship with either her or Saint Lucia?”

“Publicly that’s true, but…”

“Then that’s fine.”

Francesca traced her plump lips with her fingertips and gave me a seductive smile.

“It’s not time to give up yet. I have no intention of doing so.”

“……”

“So for now, don’t think about anything else, and if you feel sorry…”

Dressed in glossy black fabric, with upright rabbit ears that gently tickled the skin, in an outfit as bewitching as her smile.

Pressing her entire body against mine and gently stimulating me.

She whispered in my ear.

“Pay me back with your body, Master.”

It was the beginning.