Frieren: Understand Humans, Aura!

Barret let out a breathy chuckle, wiping his brow. "The truth is, my Lord, your presence is simply too commanding. The last appointed director was young, inexperienced—he accomplished little and even opposed you. And what happened? The moment he encountered the slightest resistance, he lost his footing and resigned."

Konrad smirked, swirling the wine in his goblet. "You make it sound as if I am some tyrant, coercing the Magic Association into submission. In reality, our relationship is mutually beneficial. The Graf's estate and the Hohenburg Magic Association are intertwined—one prospers with the other. The previous director had nothing but a personality clash with the local sheriff, grew frustrated, and sought a post elsewhere. How, pray tell, is that my doing?"

Barret bowed his head slightly. "Yes, of course, my Lord. But let us not forget that without your consent, the Association wouldn't be able to implement its policies here at all. It is they who depend on you, not the other way around."

Konrad chuckled. "Come now, Barret, you're far too modest. But let's not dwell on that. What matters now is this new director. You mentioned they were sent directly from Kribi. I trust there won't be any complications?"

Barret adjusted his seat, his thick fingers tapping against the armrest. "Rest assured, my Lord. I have already made inquiries. I cross-checked the records of all known mages in Kribi, and none bear the name 'Aura.' No high-ranking connections, no influential backing. A curious appointment, to say the least."

Konrad raised an eyebrow. "And what does that tell you?"

Barret smirked. "It tells me that either she is completely insignificant, or she is meant to be an observer. Perhaps someone sent to monitor whether Hohenburg is implementing Kribi's policies correctly."

Konrad leaned back, contemplating. "And if that is the case?"

Barret spread his hands. "Then we ensure she sees only what we want her to see. We guide her, gently. A firm hand wrapped in silk, my Lord."

Konrad laughed, raising his goblet. "Then let us drink to our new guest. May she be wise enough to accept the order of things here in Hohenburg."

The two rotund, middle-aged men exchanged pleasantries, their conversation full of mutual flattery and an air of camaraderie.

As the atmosphere grew more relaxed, he seized the opportunity, waving a hand toward his attendant.

"Quick, bring a gift for Lord Konrad."

The woman beside him, dressed in a fine yet modest robe embroidered with gold, hesitated. She leaned in, voice hushed.

"A gift? But we didn't prepare one."

Barret's brow furrowed. His lips pressed together in irritation. "What do you mean we didn't? Isn't there one in the carriage?"

Sheila's expression remained carefully neutral, though a flicker of unease passed through her eyes. "That was sent from the association headquarters. It's designated for outstanding mage apprentices—"

"Shut up!" Barret's voice, though raspy, snapped like a whip. He shifted in his seat, his pudgy fingers twitching toward the wand at his belt, but his cumbersome body, coupled with the constraints of his wheelchair, made the movement sluggish.

Sheila took a reflexive step back, though her posture remained stiff.

"Even those apprentice rewards must be distributed by the Lord himself," Barret continued, his face blotchy with irritation. "Move them into his estate first. The Lord will decide when and how to reward them. Why are you still standing there? Go!"

For a brief moment, Sheila's fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves, knuckles whitening, but she merely inclined her head.

"…Yes."

Without another word, she turned, her gold-threaded robe sweeping the polished floor as she exited.

Barret exhaled sharply through his nose, his frustration lingering. "Sheila, your movements are so sluggish," he grumbled, though the woman was already out of earshot. "You're always inefficient! When working for the Lord, you need to be quicker! Don't forget who gave you that robe!"

Outside, the crisp evening air provided a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the chamber. Sheila strode toward the carriage, her grip tightening on the staff at her side. The estate grounds stretched vast before her—imposing stone walls, gilded windows reflecting the flickering torchlight. 

A reminder.

The carriage stood near the grand entrance, guarded by a pair of knights bearing the insignia of the noble house. With practiced efficiency, she retrieved the velvet-lined box from within, the weight of the magical artifact pressing against her palms. A gift, or rather, a stolen reward meant for another.

She handed it over to the Graf's servants without a word.

Once Sheila had completely disappeared from sight, the predatory gleam in Barret's eyes finally dimmed. Even so, he continued complaining to Graf Konrad:

"Lowborn peasants always think that learning magic will make them more refined."

"And yet, they remain as uncultured as ever. Give them power, and they grovel with gratitude—only to forget their place soon after."

"Such an ungrateful wretch. Does she truly think she attained the position of secretary through talent alone? It was granted by the Lord's favor, nothing more."

While Barret cursed Sheila's insolence, he simultaneously showered Graf Konrad with flattery.

Konrad, however, merely watched from his elevated seat, smiling without a word.

——————

Three days later, as Aura stepped down from her carriage and lifted her hat slightly to let her horns breathe from the heat, the afternoon sun shone down on her.

After a grueling three-day journey, she had finally arrived in the city of Hohenburg.

She exhaled, brushing dust from her sleeves.

"This place really is remote," she muttered, surveying the city before her. "Some of those mountain roads were barely passable—even with magic."

Hohenburg was a far cry from the bustling, structured order of Kribi. The city walls were low, barely enough to discourage an attack, and the streets beyond the gate were a chaotic mess of wooden stalls, wandering livestock, and scrawny townsfolk. The people looked thin, their faces etched with exhaustion and malnutrition, moving about their business with a kind of weary determination.

If not for the Continental Magic Association establishing a branch here and pushing the local nobles and mages to build an academy, the impoverished citizens of this land would probably never have been exposed to magic in their entire lives.

Aura barely spared them a thought.

Human suffering was of no concern to demons.

She didn't see their patched clothes, their hollowed cheeks, or the dirt caked under their nails. What she saw were the shimmering trails of mana, drifting around their bodies like invisible threads.

And among them—scattered here and there—were promising sparks.

Demons categorized humans by their mana.

"So, it's the same everywhere. There are still naturally gifted ones."

Carrying two large suitcases, Aura walked down the street. The townspeople turned their heads to look at her—their gazes drawn to her unfamiliar attire. And Aura, in turn, met each of their eyes without hesitation.

She quickly spotted a few promising candidates—young, untrained, but possessing an innate flow of magic.

But she ignored them. She wasn't here for them.

Halfway through the journey to the city's Continental Magic Association branch, a lone figure finally emerged from the crowd—a woman dressed in gold-embroidered robes.

Not much of a welcoming party.

Aura had expected more—perhaps a group of mages, or at least a few students eager to meet their new instructor. Instead, there was only this one person, standing there, hesitating for a moment before waving.

"Hello?" The woman's voice was polite, if uncertain.

While Aura's attire matched the description in the letter, and the timing of her arrival was correct, her face—wasn't she too young?

She barely looked of age. What was Kribi's headquarters thinking, sending someone this young as the director of the Hohenburg branch?

"Hello!" Aura greeted in an easygoing tone, stepping closer. "You must be from the Association."

The woman straightened, offering a small smile. "My name is Sheila. I serve as the secretary of the Hohenburg branch. I've been assigned to welcome the newly appointed director, Aura."

"Aura, from Kribi." She adjusted her hat slightly, shielding her eyes from the sun. "As for my title… that old hag didn't say anything. Whatever you call me, I'll go with it. All I know is that I'm here to teach."

"You're quite humorous—let me carry your luggage for you."

Sheila smiled at Aura's casual remark, not taking it seriously. She stepped forward, reaching for Aura's suitcases.

'Huh?'

Aura pulled her luggage back, avoiding Sheila's grasp. She eyed the human woman warily for a moment, ensuring she had no ill intent before finally relaxing and handing over both suitcases.

"Uh, both of them…?"

"They're very light."

"They… seem to be."

Sheila eyed the suitcases, recalling how the purple-haired girl had lifted them effortlessly over her head.

"Much appreciated."

"You're too kind, my lady."

Thud—

The moment Sheila accepted the suitcases, she regretted it. They were far heavier than she had expected. She nearly stumbled as the weight threatened to pull her to the ground.

'This purple-haired girl doesn't look very tall, so how did she manage to carry two such heavy boxes all the way?'