The Possessor Mistook the Genre for 20 Years

124 – The Secretary Rejoices in Late Nights with the Magician

The hero dwells at the estate of Duke Esteban.

To put it plainly, a grown woman residing in a grown man’s house; misunderstandings weren’t exactly a strange occurrence.

Especially amongst the nobles, with their fondness for such tales, for romance, a misunderstanding was inevitable.

Thankfully, Franz had anticipated such questions to some degree, and so he wasn’t overly flustered when he delivered his response.

“It is nothing like that. She and I are merely friends.”

Yes, he and Yuna were friends. And at the same time, they were comrades who risked their lives to defeat the Demon King.

So, offering her an empty house to stay in wasn’t so strange, surely.

“I see. I suppose even the hero has their own circumstances.”

“Yes, everyone has their own circumstances.”

“And, rather than leaving an estate empty, having someone there makes it easier to manage.”

The nobles each offered their own answers. They seemed to have decided to accept it and move on.

It was a subject that could easily rouse considerable interest, yet they weren’t prying, truly befitting of nobles. They had an uncanny sense of knowing what lines not to cross.

Arian, who had been listening to Franz’s exchange with the nobles, was also internally satisfied, though she didn’t show it.

He could have simply glossed over the matter, but instead he drew a firm line, stating they were friends.

Whereas she, though only verbally, had been promised marriage.

Though it was under the condition that neither had a partner in a year’s time.

Well, that could be managed, as long as she kept a close eye on him.

‘Though it’s not so easy, is it, given how it is….’

Arian, feeling a sudden frustration, let out a silent sigh.

Franz, noticing her reaction, was puzzled, and projected his voice directly into her mind.

━ Arian, you feeling unwell?

His voice, sudden like that, made Arian jump, a shudder running through her.

Then a sharp glare was aimed right at him.

━ You startled me…!

━ Didn’t mean to. Sorry.

━ It’s alright. And there’s nothing wrong with me.

Then what was that reaction just now?

Maybe she’s got some worries on her mind?

That’s what Franz thought, but he didn’t push it. If it was a problem she needed help with, she’d surely speak up first. If she hadn’t said anything, it probably meant she didn’t want it known.

Just as he was about to let it slide, a quiet voice, barely above a whisper, reached him. Arian’s.

━ Thanks… for your concern.

The voice was so faint, it was likely carried just before her magic circuits cut out.

Whether that was on purpose or not, he couldn’t be sure, but he decided to play dumb.

If it was something she didn’t want said, it would only make things awkward.

Just then, Marquis Geran spoke up.

“Ah, come to think of it, what title does Your Grace prefer? There’s the Master of the Magic Tower, the Saint, and of course, the Duke.”

“Call me whatever you like. I’m not bothered by any of them.”

After that, Franz and the nobles continued their conversation.

About how their families prefer this item or that, or about which tourist spots were worth seeing, and so on. Nothing too remarkable, just casual chatter.

How long had it been, then?

“Lost track of time, chatting away. I worry I might’ve stolen too much of your precious hours.”

Busy, aye, that I was, but the time wasn’t wasted, not by a long shot.

At least, I managed to weave some connection with them. For now, that’s profit enough, wouldn’t you say?

“Stolen time? Nay, the pleasure was mine throughout our talk.”

And so, the conversation between Franz and the nobles drew to a close.

The nobles rose, intent on returning to their own lands.

Franz followed suit, courtesy demanding he see his guests off.

As Duke Geran was about to climb into his carriage, he paused, turning back.

“Come to think of it, they say a plague is stirring in the Rudelia duchy lands. It’s a fair distance from the Mage Tower, but take heed, nonetheless.”

“Yes, and you as well, Duke, be wary.”

With a short nod, the Duke entered the carriage.

Franz watched the carriages grow smaller in the distance, and pondered.

‘A plague, you say…?’

Given the times, a plague breaking out is hardly outlandish.

There aren’t any vaccines, nor are personal hygiene habits too strict.

Still, isn’t there divine power in this world, a cure-all for all ills?

Even if it couldn’t stop the plague from spreading, surely it could cut down the death toll, drastically at that.

Well, in the end, the answer is this. There’s no harm in being cautious, best to stay put for a while.

The villagers, they are what concern me a bit, if I’m honest…

Of all the times, why does this have to happen right after I’ve become a lord?

A sudden wave of irritation washed over him. Honestly, it felt unjust.

But, at times like this, rather than dwell on complaints, he needed to establish a countermeasure with all possible haste.

It was the right thing to do, for the safety of his domain’s people.

Was this what they meant by the weight of the crown? His shoulders felt not just heavy, but as though they might collapse under the burden.

As he wrestled with the plague’s implications, Arian spoke.

“Archmage, shall we head up now?”

“Yes, we should.”

Franz was about to turn back with Arian.

If only he hadn’t noticed something peculiar.

“Arian, just a moment.”

At the end of Franz’s gaze, was a mage.

But his state seemed…off, for lack of a better word. His expression, his gait, he looked utterly drained of strength.

Franz quickly approached him.

“Archmage, greetings….”

The mage, having spotted Franz, bowed his head in greeting.

Even that simple action looked strenuous, so completely devoid of energy.

“Greetings. May I ask just one question?”

“Yes, of course….”

“Has the back of your neck felt a bit prickly, perhaps?”

Behind the mage’s neck, buried in the skin, a bug much smaller than a fingernail was burrowing its way in.

Of course, you can’t see it with the naked eye. It’s too small to show on the surface.

Yet Franz could see it, because he felt a very faint magic emanating from it.

And a rather nasty sort of magic at that.

“Ah, come to think of it….”

The mage’s brow furrowed. Seemed he was putting two and two together.

Finally, nodding, he spoke.

“I was dispatched to the Duchy of Rudelia for a job. If memory serves, I did feel a sharp prickling back then, I believe.”

The Duchy of Rudelia. Surely, that was the place ravaged by plague.

‘Nasty bug and plague…’

It wasn’t possible to say for certain that the bug was the cause of the plague.

Nothing had been proven, after all.

For all anyone knew, this man just happened to be, by ill fortune, playing host to the bug.

But there was cause to suspect it.

And if this bug was indeed the answer….

‘Even the Goddess Church’s help would be futile.’

A bad feeling isn’t necessarily the same as magic, after all.

They could provide short-term improvements to the patient’s condition, but they wouldn’t address the root cause.

Ultimately, he’d have to go to the site to be certain, but a strong premonition told him that something unpleasant was about to unfold.

Franz let out a short sigh and said,

“This will sting a bit.”

“Huh?”

The mage echoed, a question hanging in his voice, like he’d lost his way in the words.

And in that same breath, Franz snapped his fingers.

*Click-*

“Ugh?!”

A strangled cry from the mage, and then on Franz’s palm, a tiny bug appeared. Pulled from beneath his skin via a spatial shift.

He could crush it right then, sure, but who knew what that’d spark. Secondary infection, maybe.

Besides, they needed to poke at this thing, see what it was. It was necessary.

Franz dropped the wriggling thing into a small glass vial, spoke flatly,

“For today, just go home and rest. I’ll handle things with your department.”

“Ah, no, it’s alright, I’ll report myself.”

“Understood. Do it that way, then. But you’ve got to leave work today.”

He wanted to send him packing right now, to be honest. The guy was clearly off.

But, that kind of consideration could be more like a weight to carry, couldn’t it?

Like if the CEO suddenly told a low-level worker, ‘I’ll let your department know, go home,’ that worker’d freak out.

“Then, I’ll be going…”

He bowed his head, a slow shuffle as he walked away.

Watching the mage’s retreating back, Arian beside Franz chimed in.

“Tower Lord, looks like you’re working late tonight.”

“Guess it ended up that way.”

“Anything you fancy for supper?”

“I’m alright, you go home when you can.”

Even if it’s overtime, all I do is study bugs.

It’s not like there’s a shortage of hands, no need to hold Arian back.

But her thinking seemed a bit different.

“If the Mage Tower Lord can’t leave, then neither can I.”

Clearly, a dreadful and loathsome thing to say. Any office worker would be dumbfounded.

But the corner of Arian’s mouth was subtly turned up. Like she was pleased with this situation.