The Possessor Mistook the Genre for 20 Years

122 – The Secretary Fell Asleep Leaning on the Magician’s Shoulder.

*Tuk-, tuk-, tuk-*

Franz’s fingers tapped the desk in annoyance.

The stationery lay on the desk, untouched, still stark white despite the passage of some time.

‘What should I even write?’

The recipients were nobles from the vicinity of the Estevan Duchy.

Having received a title, a greeting felt proper, didn’t it? And while at it, he also wanted to talk about Yuna.

Yet, he hadn’t a clue what to put down.

‘Nobles are sensitive about this sort of thing…’

As this was a letter to nobles, he wanted, if possible, to use their manner of speaking.

You know the type, right? The blessing of the sun, the verdant trees, the chirping birds, all those strange, flowery phrases.

Of course, he couldn’t make head or tail of their way of speaking. It was difficult for the speaker, and confusing for the listener. Quite inefficient, frankly.

But ‘when in Rome,’ as they say. He was trying to interact with other nobles now that he’d become one himself, so he wished to adhere to their rules, if he could.

The problem, however, was that he was not accustomed to it; writing a single letter was taking him ages. Sentences surfaced in his mind, but they were all jumbled and disorganized.

If they were acquaintances, he could just send something and be done with it. But of all things, it was a first meeting.

Haa-.

A frustrated sigh escaped him.

It was then. The door opened with a soft click, and Arian peeked his head in through the gap.

“Oh? Are you still working on it?”

“Well, it just… turned out that way… Anyway, weren’t you heading back?”

“I thought I’d say goodbye before I left. Didn’t expect you’d still be working on that.”

“I didn’t expect it to take this long either…”

Franz said this, letting out a short sigh.

Arian strode towards him, a graceful sweep of hair behind her ear as she spoke.

“Shall I assist you?”

A tempting offer indeed. Arian, raised in a ducal family, would dash off a letter as if it were nothing.

Yet, there was a nagging unease at having someone else write a letter that should be his own….

‘But she *is* my secretary, isn’t she…?’

Well, a secretary writing letters was hardly unusual, he supposed. Besides, there wasn’t much else for a secretary to do at the moment.

So Franz said,

“Yes, help me.”

Perhaps, though, that decision had been a mistake.

The moment Franz answered, a playful grin bloomed on Arian’s face.

“Yes, I will help. Since the mighty master of the magic tower seems unable to write a letter himself, it cannot be helped.”

It wasn’t scorn, nor criticism. It was a pure, simple tease.

But, to fall for such a thing was to be a fool.

A prank was done to savor the reaction, so Franz spoke calmly instead.

“Yes, thank you for your help.”

He even added a smile, prompting Arian to pout, a disgruntled lower lip jutting out.

“You’re no fun…”

Well, who told her to pull such a predictable prank? She should’ve tried something a little more interesting, something unexpected.

Still, thanks to it, the stuffiness in his chest had eased, so it wasn’t all bad.

Franz waved his hand in the air as he thought this. A chair from the corner of the master’s tower room flew through the air and landed beside him.

Thuk-thuk-.

Franz tapped the chair with his palm, speaking,

“Enough, come sit. Let’s write a letter together.”

Arian seemed to ponder a moment, then a slight smile curled onto his lips as he settled beside Franz. The displeased look was long gone.

“So, what sort of content are you wanting to write?”

“Oh, something like ‘let’s gather and talk,’ that kind of feeling.”

“Hmm… then something like this….”

As Arian’s pen started moving, the blank page quickly filled with words.

Then, suddenly, Arian stopped, pen still.

“Just wondering. Is there any thought of holding a…feast?”

“Let’s try to avoid that, if we can.”

The recent feasts had left his body and mind quite weary. Dealing with people was never easy, after all.

And the research, or catching the cultists, those things were piled up too. It felt like time to focus on those for a while.

How much time passed, as Franz and Arian put their heads together?

Kuk-.

Arian’s pen landed a period on the letter.

“Done. Do you want to read it?”

“Alright.”

Franz began reading the letter Arian had written. He had watched the whole process, so it didn’t feel necessary, but it wouldn’t hurt to be sure.

The letter was excellent, just as he’d expected. As good as a letter could be, he thought.

It was one of those moments. Franz, he felt this sudden weight pressing down on his shoulder.

Wondering what it was, he turned his head and there was Arian, leaning her head against him.

“Arian, you tired?”

“Yeah, a bit.”

Maybe it was from all the drinking last night.

Seemed like a strong possibility. You could sleep and sleep after drinking and still feel beat.

The thought of her making time for him like this, in that state, it made him feel a little bad but also grateful.

Franz said,

“Should I take you home?”

“You’ll just teleport, right?”

“…Right?”

It was just the most efficient thing, so yeah, it was obvious.

Even still, he hesitated when he answered because he’d felt a kind of negative vibe in her tone. Like she didn’t like the idea of teleporting.

And that hunch was right.

“Then never mind. I’ll just stay like this a little longer. You wouldn’t turn away a little shoulder lean after all the help you’ve given, would you?”

“Yeah, okay, then… stay there….”

Franz was just confused.

If you were tired, you’d go lie down on a soft bed at home. There was no reason to be uncomfortable like this.

Only, like she said, giving up a shoulder, that wasn’t a big deal so he didn’t push back.

If there was a problem…

“What, is she really asleep?”

Just that Aryan had fallen asleep, her head lolling against his shoulder.

Really, who was the tower lord and who was the secretary, you couldn’t tell.

Franz let out a short sigh, then used magic to gently float Aryan’s body upwards. He went into the room and carefully laid her on the bed.

‘Really, how did things end up like this…’

Aryan falling asleep next to him, it was something he could have never even dreamed of before. She had been so cold, it was almost harsh.

‘Well, still, I only feel grateful…’

They say, those who help you in hard times, they stay in your memory.

For Franz, that was exactly who Aryan was.

When he’d first come to the tower and been the target of everyone’s envy and jealousy, she’d stood by his side; and when he’d become the tower lord and struggled, she’d done her best as his secretary.

Well, in any case…

If she was asleep, all he could wish for was that she had good dreams.

With that, Franz slipped out of the room.

And at the very same moment, Aryan opened her eyes.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, thinking.

‘Is he really a fool, a dumb idiot…?’

Leaning her head on his shoulder, even pretending to sleep. These actions couldn’t have been easy; they’d certainly required a tremendous amount of courage.

But Franz’s reaction was just… dry. He hadn’t even held her when he moved her, using magic instead.

She felt like she’d definitely expressed *something*, but why it wasn’t getting through, she couldn’t for the life of her understand.

The truth was, Aryan had acted that way because she was getting impatient.

The hero, Yuna, had officially taken residence in Franz’s home, and the saint, Ustia, grew so close she’d fuss over him directly at banquets.

Hera…

‘At least that one seems like she’s holding back for now….’

But even that, how long could it last? Who could say what would happen if she snapped to her senses and started seducing Franz?

Haa-.

Ariane, frustrated, let out a sigh. Then, as she inhaled, Franz’s scent wafted over her, thick and potent. It was, of course, Franz’s bed, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise.

‘Idiot, moron….’

Ariane thought this, thrashing around on the bed.

Of course, Franz had no clue about any of this, and he was set to remain blissfully unaware.

* * * * *

Franz sent letters to a total of three people.

Count Lucia from the north of the territory, Marquess Geron from the south, and Count Rumin from the east.

The west of the territory was still part of the Empire, so he let it slide. No use sending a summons to the Emperor.

How many days had passed since then?

Three carriages came to a halt before the towering mage tower. The crests on the carriages made it clear; these were the people Franz had written to.

Soon, figures in resplendent clothing descended from the carriages.

Each and every one of them was thinking the same thing.

They needed to see if the Duke of Estervan was indeed sturdy enough for them to climb upon, if he was truly someone they could rely on.