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Chapter 260: Days of the White Tower (1)
There are many forms of respect in the world.
Respect born from strength, shown to a powerful mage or knight.
Respect given to the knowledgeable, who know much.
Respect for kindness of heart, for one who bestows grace and cares for others.
“In short, there’s always a reason behind why someone is respected.”
And the simplest way to show that one respect another is through the manner of speaking—
above all, through the use of formal, honorific speech.
Here arises a question.
‘Why is Lloyd suddenly speaking to me formally?’
What’s more, he doesn’t even seem to notice he’s doing it.
That was baffling.
Catching onto this, Sasha spoke up.
“Maybe it’s because he’s so used to it. Master, you’ve always been someone for whom receiving respect feels far more natural than being spoken down to.”
“Is that it?”
Even hearing Lloyd’s honorifics, he hadn’t felt the slightest sense of strangeness.
Had Sasha not pointed it out, it might have taken him a long time to notice.
Blinking her eyes, she added,
“Or maybe he figured it out. That you’re his master.”
“……”
Oscar sank into thought for a moment.
‘Did I ever do anything that could’ve given myself away?’
No matter how he thought about it, the answer was no.
He hadn’t let anything slip in front of Lloyd, nor shown any telling signs.
It was then—
“I think I know.”
Edna, seated nearby, spoke.
“What? When?”
“When Oscar listed Lloyd’s strengths and weaknesses. At that time, his shoulder and neck muscles tightened slightly, his pulse quickened, and his breathing grew irregular. Likely because he felt he’d heard those words somewhere before.”
Hearing that only confused Oscar further.
He blinked and said,
“I told Lloyd something like that before? I don’t remember.”
“Then wait.”
Pulling a book from her robes, she checked something, then nodded.
“Exactly 8,391 days ago. Lloyd must have recalled it. His memory is… intimidating.”
“…I find it scarier that you recorded that conversation at all.”
A witness of the world’s history recording trivial private chatter?
That was absurd.
To his natural question, Edna replied,
“Oscar is already a major piece of world history. It is my duty to record all related material.”
“Are you planning to publish my autobiography after I die or something?”
“There’s too little personal content for that. Should I increase that portion?”
“Absolutely not.”
One wrong word, and she’d start recording his every move.
That was unthinkable.
“Anyway—do you really think Lloyd knows who I am?”
“I believe the possibility is extremely low.”
“Why?”
“Because in the mind of an ordinary human, the notion that a dead man has returned to life would never occur.”
“Fair point.”
Indeed, even if someone glimpsed a fragment of the past in him, imagining it as literally the same person reborn was far-fetched.
“Then why the honorifics?”
The question circled back again.
This time, Sasha gave her opinion.
“Maybe it’s simply respect. You helped him achieve a lot, and he’s honoring you for it.”
“Well, if that’s all it is, that would be nice.”
“But I do wonder about one thing.”
Edna’s quiet voice asked.
“Oscar, are you reluctant to reveal yourself to Lloyd?”
“Ah, I’d like to know too! You told me so openly, but why so cautious with him?”
“Well…”
Choosing his words with care, Oscar answered,
“Lloyd’s sensitive. If he found out I’d said nothing all this time, he might feel hurt.”
Though roundabout, they understood his meaning.
‘So he’s afraid Lloyd will sulk.’
‘So that’s it.’
A simple but convincing reason.
Lloyd had been the type to sulk for ages over the smallest things as a child.
‘If even trifles could set him off, what would happen if he found out his resurrected master kept silent for over a year…?’
The thought of Lloyd storming out of the White Tower made Sasha shiver.
“Wouldn’t that be all the more reason to tell him quickly? If it were me, I’d feel more hurt that you kept it even now.”
“…Would I?”
Hearing it aloud, it seemed true.
Oscar sank into thought again.
Then, with a determined face, Sasha—his right hand, his disciple, his lifelong little informant—stood up.
“Guess I have no choice.”
“…Sasha?”
As a disciple who loved her master, and as the one who’d once tattled faithfully on her seniors at his orders, she resolved:
“I’ll go talk to him myself.”
* * *
Lloyd’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of the figure in the hallway.
Sasha Maestro.
She’d appeared suddenly, without warning.
After a pause, he opened his door.
“Come in.”
Stepping inside, her steps faltered.
The room’s arrangement was exactly the same as the one they’d lived in as children.
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It felt like stepping onto the set of a stage recreating her memories.
‘Should I call this consistency, or just a lack of change?’
Gazing about for a while, she asked.
“Don’t tell me—even on the western front, your room looked like this?”
“…Since childhood, I’ve valued efficiency. This is the most efficient layout. No reason to change it.”
It almost sounded like an excuse.
He gestured toward the sofa.
“Sit there for a moment. I’ll bring something—there’s cocoa I bought…”
“Cocoa? You still think I’m a kid? I drink coffee now. Black, even.”
Declaring it proudly, Sasha sat on the sofa with a mutter.
“Well, it’s the host’s choice. Bring whatever.”
“It’ll be ready shortly.”
A little later, Lloyd returned with two mugs.
“Try it.”
“Thanks.”
She blew across the steaming cocoa and sipped.
Her nose stung.
‘Damn.’
It tasted exactly like the cocoa from childhood.
The one she’d been restricted to two cups of per day, lest her teeth rot.
The one she swore she’d drink ten cups a day once grown.
How could she have forgotten it?
She drank in silence for a long while.
Only when the mug was empty did she set it down.
“…It’s good.”
“I’m glad.”
The words were few; the air awkward.
If anyone else were present, they’d surely feel compelled to keep quiet.
But it couldn’t be helped.
Sixteen years apart couldn’t be bridged overnight.
“…Did you hate me a lot?”
She asked timidly.
He nodded at once.
“It would be a lie to say no.”
“Ugh.”
“But, as I said before, I bore responsibility too. And most of all…”
He glanced at her.
“…your apology last time wiped the slate clean. Don’t dwell on it.”
“……”
Sixteen years of resentment couldn’t vanish with a single apology.
Sasha stared at the cocoa powder clumped at the bottom of her mug.
Surely, in Lloyd’s heart too, some residue remained.
‘But he’ll never say it aloud.’
He never did.
When their master was gone, he had acted as their guardian, caring for the younger two.
‘And he wasn’t even that much older…’
She now knew how hard that must have been, though she’d taken it for granted as a child.
Her chest tightened. She forced a smile.
“Anyway—that’s not why I came. Not to sit here gloomily.”
“Then our master sent you.”
“That’s right! Exactly tha—huh?”
Her eyes flew wide.
A master mage of the tower, an 8th-level master—yet in that moment she was utterly flustered.
“W-what are you talking about?”
“If it’s easier for you to deny it, I’ll play along.”
He sipped his coffee casually, while her eyes darted nervously.
After a pause, she asked,
“…How did you know?”
“The first sign was how you acted around him. That doglike loyalty you only ever showed him. I wondered if, after so long, you’d begun showing it to others too.”
Lloyd continued, sipping his coffee:
“But then—from how close he were with Edna, to bringing the emperor himself here—things beyond reason kept happening. And then, when he repeated words once spoken to me by our master… the image came back. Today, your answer confirmed it.”
“You—you were testing me? That’s unfair!”
“Unfair? You spied on us for master all those years. That’s worse.”
“…You knew about that?”
“You seemed to enjoy it, so I let you be. Gilli, of course, never had a clue.”
So this was the authority of the one who had once been her guardian.
Swallowing hard, she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Still… I won’t tell you anything about master!”
“You don’t have to.”
He set his mug down.
“…I imagine you’re only worried I’ll be hurt, if I learn the truth too late.”
“Y-yes. Master feared you’d sulk.”
“…I don’t sulk over things like that.”
“What? You were impossible to appease when you sulked!”
“I don’t recall.”
Hours of talk passed before she returned.
“……”
And now she kept avoiding Oscar’s eyes, like a guilty dog.
But his persistent gaze broke her down.
At last, she hung her head.
“I—I’m sorry…”
Oscar knew full well what she meant.
For a moment, his head swam, but he steeled himself.
‘No. This might actually be for the best.’
Sasha had been right earlier.
Not revealing himself at this point would indeed hurt more.
Better to tell Lloyd plainly, and apologize, than let it fester.
“I’ll go.”
Leaving his room, Oscar walked toward Lloyd’s quarters.
He could have taken the magic lift, but chose the stairs instead—slow steps to steady his heart.
“…Hoo.”
He lingered outside Lloyd’s door for a while, then knocked softly.
Click.
Almost at once, the door opened.
“……”
Through the crack, that familiar blank stare.
Lloyd opened the door wider, speaking quietly.
“Come in.”
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