MTDIK 02

Chapter 2,

“Have I Returned.”

“What? The youngest is going through with the engagement to the Crown Prince of Valdrova?”

The second son, Huren Rosnova, reacted as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. With his gray hair and brown eyes, Huren was the brains of the Rosnova family and the man expected to be the next family head. He had just returned from a trip to the Empire, handling official business on behalf of his father, Erembalt.

“Yes,” the butler, who was reporting to him, nodded firmly.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s true.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Did he misunderstand something?”

“I believe he fully understands what this means.”

“Well, if even my idiot brother gets it, then I suppose it’s clear enough…”

Huren scratched his chin, unable to wrap his head around the situation.

‘In a scenario where the only options are death or exile, why the hell would that fool choose death?’

Was he trying to prove his courage to Father? But the engagement had already been approved by the Empire, and once accepted, it couldn’t be revoked. That went for Ferda too. If he suddenly said, “I’ll just leave the house instead,” the Empire would consider it a breach of imperial law and promptly separate his head from his body.

“So, what’s that idiot doing now?”

“He’s preparing to leave today. He should be finishing up his packing as we speak.”

“Hmm. Then there’s still some time for a brotherly chat, isn’t there?”

The butler almost rolled his eyes but managed to keep a straight face. After all, the person who first ostracized Ferda for being the concubine’s son with blue eyes was none other than Huren himself. For him to talk about “brotherly chats” was downright laughable.

Hands behind his back, Huren strolled down the hallway like he was taking a casual walk through the garden. When he arrived in front of Ferda’s room, he saw the maids who were supposed to be attending him standing outside.

“Why are you all standing out here instead of attending him?”

Startled, the maids bowed quickly and began to explain.

“Well, w-we offered to assist him, but he told us to wait outside…”

“What nonsense. So you’ve been standing out here, waiting?”

“Yes, sir…”

“Pathetic. What, is he dressing himself? He’s still technically a noble, isn’t he? How would he even manage that on his own?”

Huren clicked his tongue in irritation, though inwardly, he was thrilled.

‘Of course. Now that the day has come, he’s too scared to go through with it.’

Clearing his throat, Huren flung the door open.

“Ferda! What are you doing? You’re not even preparing properly, are you—”

But Huren froze mid-sentence.

The image he had in his head was of Ferda sprawled on the bed, whining about not wanting to go. What he saw instead was…

‘He’s… dressing himself?’

Ferda stood in front of a mirror, calmly buttoning his shirt.

“How could you just barge in without knocking, Brother?”

Ferda’s tone was calm, almost scolding Huren for his rudeness.

“I thought you’d be sulking in bed.”

“Why would I? It’s an important day. How could I afford to waste time?”

“Then why are the maids waiting outside?”

“Because I can dress myself. I won’t have anyone helping me after today anyway.”

His tone was steady, his attention fixed on his reflection as he adjusted his appearance.

Huren blinked, staring at Ferda.

‘Is this really the same guy I know?’

What kind of person had Ferda been before? A spineless leech who groveled and begged just to survive.

But now?

Now he was calm, composed, and even dignified—like a seasoned nobleman twice his age.

‘Ferda, of all people…’

For the first time in his life, Huren felt an odd sense of tension when looking at his youngest brother.

Trying to brush it off, Huren coughed awkwardly and changed the subject.

“Ahem. So, I heard you accepted the engagement to the Crown Prince of Valdrova.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve read enough books to know what that means, right?”

“Of course. It’s just a roundabout way of saying, ‘Get out of this family.’”

“Why do you have to phrase it like that? It’s not like Rosnova would send you away without a single penny. They’ll give you enough to stand on your own.”

Ferda thought for a moment.

Money, huh…

Sure, they’d give him money. But how much? Enough to live for ten years—if he lived like a commoner. For someone accustomed to a noble lifestyle, it would last him three days at most.

‘Well, not that it mattered. I gave all that money to my first teacher anyway.’

Not because he wanted to. The only mage willing to take on a late-blooming student like him had been a greedy one. Even though the teaching wasn’t great, just being able to access information had been valuable.

‘I bet that guy’s still chasing money and women to this day.’

Remembering those days, Ferda let out a small snort.

‘Did… Did he just laugh?’

Huren couldn’t believe it. There was no way Ferda could be misunderstanding what this situation meant. But there was also no way Ferda should have the leisure to be laughing right now.

“You must not fully understand. Do you know why being engaged to the Tyrant Dragon is essentially a death sentence?”

“Of course. Isn’t it because the first fiancé was torn to pieces?”

Valdrova’s first fiancé had been the Empire’s third prince, an uncle to the current emperor. He had been brilliant, handsome, and widely loved. Many thought he would one day ascend to the throne, but he had chosen to reject that path. And yet, he was shredded into unrecognizable bits within a day of meeting the Crown Prince of Valdrova.

The incident led to one conclusion:

• “Whoever becomes Valdrova’s fiancé must be greater than the third prince in every way.”

Since then, Valdrova had searched for another fiancé, but no one volunteered. After all, if even someone as perfect as the third prince couldn’t survive, who could? Eventually, the engagement process became twisted into a convenient excuse for nobles to get rid of their unwanted children.

“And you think you can succeed where the third prince failed?”

“Who knows?”

To be honest, Ferda wasn’t sure. Even as the youngest 8th-circle mage in history, he didn’t have enough confidence to say for sure.

But Ferda wasn’t the type of person to sit around waiting for certainty.

“Well, I guess I’ll figure it out as I go.”

Huren stared at Ferda like he was insane. With a tired sigh, he tried one last time to warn him.

“Do whatever you want. Just don’t try to run away.”

“…”

“The moment you try to flee, the Rosnova family will send people after you to cut your head off. Got it?”

In the past, Ferda would have flinched at such a threat, his face pale with fear. But now, he simply stared at Huren without a hint of emotion.

“Brother,” Ferda said.

Huren, momentarily caught off guard by his gaze, stuttered, “W-what?”

“You should take better care of yourself. Everyone knows about the way you ogle our eldest brother’s wife.”

Huren’s face turned bright red.

“W-what?! You—! What are you even—!”

“If you feel like hitting me, hold back. I have to walk into a dragon’s jaws, after all.”

Ferda gave Huren a light pat on the shoulder as he walked past him.

Huren could only stand there, dumbfounded, watching as Ferda walked away with a calm, almost mature air.

“It’s been an honor to serve you, young master.”

The butler welcoming him on his final journey shed tears. Ferda quietly observed those tears.

‘Saying things he doesn’t even mean.’

If those tears had any meaning, it would be closer to relief than sorrow. After all, serving a useless, incompetent young master in a noble family was a humiliating task for any servant.

‘Was this guy one of the ones who tampered with my food?’

He hadn’t realized it at the time. When the floor was made slippery so he would fall, or when he vomited in the middle of a meal, he’d always thought it was just because of his own frail body. Did he ever even imagine that the servants were behind such tricks?

Normally, such things would be enough to ignite a fire of hatred and thirst for revenge. The only mercy he would’ve granted them was killing them so quickly they wouldn’t even realize they had died.

‘But what does it matter now.’

However, the current Ferda was nothing but calm. The burning flames had died down, leaving only tranquility behind. Having already avenged himself once, he decided to let go of any lingering regrets about it.

And so, Ferda patted the butler on the shoulder, offering a word of encouragement.

“Yeah, you’ve worked hard. Taking care of someone like me for so long.”

“…Pardon?”

The butler, who had been performing a teary act, was so flustered that his fake tears vanished instantly.

“I’ll leave the Rosnova family to you now.”

“Ah, y-yes…”

With that, Ferda turned on his heel. His composure was too serene for someone walking to his death.

As he stepped out of the house, a servant waiting for him greeted him.

“I’m Hans, the coachman who’ll escort you to your destination, young master.”

“A coachman?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ferda tilted his head.

“I’m riding in a carriage?”

“Uh, yes. Of course, it’s a carriage. What else would it be?”

“Hmm, I see.”

“Is there a problem, sir?”

“No, it’s nothing. Just feels… nostalgic, that’s all.”

“Oh, is that so…? …Huh?”

No matter how hard he thought about it, the coachman couldn’t make sense of what Ferda meant.

“Well then, we’ll be off!”

–Clop-clop!

With the snorting of horses and the sound of hooves, the carriage began to move.

‘It’s been such a long time since I’ve ridden in one of these.’

The last time Ferda remembered carriages, they had long since vanished. Or rather, to be precise, they’d become items for the middle class, where the concept of “carriage” itself had grown vague.

‘That gap was eventually filled by magical automobiles.’

At first, there had been resistance, claiming that tradition was being lost. But it didn’t take long for people to accept the superior control and convenience offered by magical vehicles, making them a staple of noble life.

‘Then came flying carriages and all sorts of innovations.’

All these things were creations born under the name of magical engineering.

‘Not that any of it mattered to me.’

For Ferda, who had lived driven solely by revenge, it was an area of magic he had no interest in.

‘Magic…’

The once-unprecedented 9th Circle caster of the Wish Magic, Ferda, was no longer a Grand Mage.

‘The weak, dismissed Ferda.’

It was only natural that, right now, magic felt far removed from him. He had awakened his magic when he left home, but the driving force behind it was always rage and a desire for revenge.

The current Ferda lacked the boiling anger and razor-sharp thirst for vengeance. It was only natural that he hadn’t awakened again.

‘I don’t even want to anymore.’

Looking back, the magic Ferda wielded was like a drug. It felt good at first, but as the threshold kept rising, it became uncontrollable—just like an addiction. When he was consumed by it, everything felt exhilarating and pleasant, but now it was nothing more than a horrifying memory he’d rather not relive.

Ferda liked the bitter calmness he felt now.

‘Though that doesn’t mean I want to live without magic forever…’

Life without magic was inconvenient in many ways. Like putting on clothes by himself, for example. By reaching the 3rd Circle, one could use magic to dress simply. At the 4th Circle, one could understand the intricate structure of ceremonial attire and command magic to dress them automatically.

‘To live alone without issues, I’ll need to at least reach the 4th Circle.’

To any other person, hearing him talk about the 4th Circle so casually would’ve left them speechless. But for Ferda, the feeling he had was one of daunting uncertainty.

He’d already climbed to the pinnacle of the 9th Circle once, but the path he knew was no longer available to him. What did Ferda, now free of anger and vengeance, need in order to awaken his magic?

“Young master…!”

Just as he was pondering the question, the frightened voice of the coachman reached his ears. That alone told him everything he needed to know.

“We’ve… we’ve arrived!”

The carriage had stopped in the middle of a forest, and a single signpost stood in the open road ahead.

“Beyond this point lies the territory of the Void King. Entry beyond this point is strictly forbidden.”

This was as far as the carriage could go.

“Good work.”

Ferda stepped out of the carriage, and the coachman unloaded the baggage while standing nervously nearby.

“Well, you can head back now.”

“But I must wait for the person who’s coming to meet you…”

His stubbornness was clearly not his own will. He’d undoubtedly been ordered to ensure Ferda didn’t try to escape.

“A dragon will be here soon.”

“A d-dragon?”

“Well, not a real dragon, more like a spawn or one of its kin, but for someone like you, it might as well be a dragon.”

Sweat dripped from the coachman’s brow, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously.

Ferda nodded toward the horses.

“Even if you could handle the dragon, those beasts wouldn’t. The horses would panic, and you wouldn’t make it back home. That’d be your loss, wouldn’t it?”

“A-ah…!”

“So just head back and report that I’m fine. Won’t it be a waste to die for nothing?”

“Y-yes, understood.”

The coachman abandoned his feigned resolve. He unloaded a large bag from the back of the carriage and set it down.

“Then I’ll be on my way! Stay healthy, young master!”

The man, who’d vowed to stay, didn’t even look back as he drove the carriage away. He was in such a hurry that the back of the carriage bounced.

Ferda sat down on the hard bag, using it as a makeshift chair while he waited.

“The Void King’s domain, huh…”

Before long, the wind began to stir suddenly.

Ferda raised his head and looked toward the dark forest.

Standing there was a young girl. She wore a maid’s uniform and had silver hair, but she was no ordinary servant. Don’t be fooled by her appearance.

She was a dragonspawn.

“Are you Ferda Rosnova?” she asked politely.

“Yes.”

“I’ve come to accompany you to the castle. This way, please.”