Chapter 60

"What... do you mean?"

Lifa murmured the question, her agitation so palpable it was as if she couldn't—or perhaps wouldn't—understand the meaning of Justus’s words.

Watching her, El realized she had made a grave mistake.

She had only told Lifa that Harold was a subject in a certain research project. She had withheld the specific details: that it was a practical test for a weapon that amplified power by consuming the user's very life. It was a blatantly inhumane study.

The reason El hadn't publicized this fact, or even told Lifa, was simply because she hadn't deemed it necessary.

This research was being overlooked by the nation’s political elite. In such a situation, publicizing it—or even admitting to knowing it existed—carried significant risks. Using that knowledge as leverage in a deal was one thing, but throwing her life away to expose it for the sake of unrelated people was quite another. El didn't possess that degree of altruism, nor did she harbor a rebellious, journalistic spirit against authority.

Furthermore, making a scene would inevitably draw unwanted attention. For a member of the Giffelt clan to attract personal notice was nothing short of folly.

This wasn't unique to Harold’s situation; it was a simple matter of risk versus reward, and El had judged the risk too high.

She had always operated this way, but after actually getting to know Harold, she realized he was trying to keep the truth hidden himself. While she couldn't decipher his exact intentions, if that was what he wanted, El felt she had no right to interfere.

They were in a cooperative relationship. When weighed against the rewards she stood to gain, El couldn't justify going against his wishes. Of course, that was assuming the promise they’d made was genuine, but since she couldn't verify that yet, the result remained the same.

And so, despite her revulsion toward a project that toyed with Harold’s life, she had told no one. She was aware that Lifa was beginning to harbor romantic feelings for him, but the girl was scheduled to return to her hometown in a week. El had assumed their paths would diverge before Lifa even realized she was in love, and that the two would never meet again.

It was a cold, detached way of thinking, hardly becoming of a friend, but El also believed that for Lifa’s sake, it was better she remained ignorant of the cruel reality. It was best for everyone to end the relationship now, while the connection was still shallow and the love went unrecognized.

This was especially true if Harold’s time was truly running out.

However, El’s calculations had backfired in the worst possible way. There was no way Lifa could stay silent after hearing a revelation like that.

"Hold it together, Lifa," El whispered.

"...I’m sorry."

As expected, the quiet persuasion failed. There was no way to restrain Lifa and retreat silently, and in truth, there was a chance Justus had spoken specifically because he knew they were there. He had likely cleared the room for that very purpose.

They shouldn't have been so careless as to intrude. But regret came too late; Lifa threw open the door to Justus’s office without so much as a knock.

"! ...You two. How long have you been standing there?"

Justus looked surprised by their sudden appearance. His reaction was natural, devoid of any obvious feigning. Even though El sensed the situation had been orchestrated, his performance didn't look like acting.

"I’m sorry. I apologize for eavesdropping," El said.

"What did you hear?"

"...That Harold’s life won't last much longer."

"T-That’s a lie, right?" Lifa stammered. "I mean, he looks so healthy... I saw him training just the other morning! He was moving so fast I couldn't even believe he was human... so, saying he’s going to die soon... there’s no way..."

"Calm down, Lifa."

Her eyes were unfocused, her voice trembling as she desperately tried to deny the truth with incoherent words. El gripped her shoulders and shook her gently to steady her, but it had little effect.

Justus, watching their exchange, let out a long sigh.

"Have a seat. It seems we both have things we want to ask, so I’ll at least treat you to some tea."

Justus stood and poured pre-heated tea into three cups. The rich, mellow aroma of the leaves filled the room, acting as a balm for their frayed nerves.

Perhaps thanks to the tea, Lifa regained a semblance of composure after about ten minutes. Still, she wasn't quite ready for a calm conversation. Sensing this, Justus turned his attention to El.

"Now then, first let me speak to you, since you seem capable of a proper discussion. What you two did was a blatant act of reconnaissance. Are you aware that it is a criminal offense?"

"Yes. I am deeply sorry."

El bowed her head low. There was no room for excuses. In fact, if she tried to talk her way out of it with clever lies, she would only give Justus a legitimate reason to be suspicious. It was better to apologize honestly and let him frame it as a mistake made by children.

Justus sighed again. He scratched his head roughly with his right hand, looking as though he were trying to suppress his irritation. El still couldn't tell if it was genuine or a facade.

"Well, I’ll admit I was also at fault for speaking carelessly while knowing you were coming. However, what you heard is a grave secret that cannot be made public."

"A secret... so it's true?"

"Yes. It is an unshakeable fact that Harold will die before long."

As he delivered the confirmation, Lifa, who had been looking down, stifled a sob. Her fists were clenched so tightly on her lap that her knuckles were white.

"—Why?"

The word was a plea. Lifa looked up, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Why is Harold going to die?"

"I told you, it’s a secret. I’m sorry, but I can't—"

"Please tell me! ...I’m... I'm begging you..."

The tears finally overflowed, tracking down Lifa’s cheeks. Even so, she kept her head up, her gaze fixed directly on Justus. After a heavy silence, Justus was the one to yield.

"Lifa, let me ask you one thing."

"What is it?"

"You haven't spent much time with Harold. Two weeks, at most. So why are you so fixated on him?"

It was a question that pierced the heart of the matter. Lifa began to speak, choosing her words carefully as if trying to confirm her own feelings.

---

"...Harold says a lot of sarcastic things, and he has a twisted, nasty personality. We just bicker every time we talk, and I’ve never heard a single good rumor about him. Maybe he really is a terrible person. But... that guy acknowledged the magic I created. He kept his promise to me and fought without a second thought for his own safety."

For Lifa, that had been both a joy and a shock. She had never known someone who would go that far for her sake.

Since she was a child, Lifa had questioned the nature of magic. Why did the same spell vary in power depending on the caster? Why were some people unable to use magic at all?

What began as innocent curiosity evolved into a social problem as she grew and gained a broader perspective.

Those who could use magic were wealthy; those who couldn't were poor. Those who could use magic were strong; those who couldn't were weak.

While not an absolute law, it was the reality for the vast majority. It created a divide where the rich grew richer and the poor were left behind. Even in Lifa’s hometown, it was no different.

Farmers who could cast earth or water magic could grow crops far more efficiently than those who couldn't. The labor required for tilling and watering was drastically reduced. Less labor meant lower costs, which meant lower prices. Given the choice, everyone bought the cheaper produce. Furthermore, magic allowed them to finish their work in a fraction of the time, leaving them free to pursue other income. The gap only continued to widen.

Whether in agriculture, livestock, hunting, or manufacturing, those with the right magical affinity were far better off than their peers. They were valued simply because their magic was superior.

The right person for the right place—perhaps that was all it was.

However, Lifa’s parents—and Lifa herself—had no talent for magic. She had magic power, but the ability to manifest it was meager. She hated that fact and worked tirelessly to overcome it, but she was never able to use magic properly. As a result, her family lived in poverty and hardship.

Even in those circumstances, Lifa didn't stop trying to change her reality. Eventually, she reached an answer.

If she couldn't use magic herself, she would find another way to make it possible. She conceived the idea of using scientific aids to manifest magical effects. She believed that if she could succeed, she could save her parents and everyone else who lacked magical talent. With that single-minded focus, Lifa threw herself into her research, neglecting food and sleep to work through the night.

By the time she looked up, the villagers had branded her an eccentric, and her own parents had dismissed her as a failure. She was alone.

No one acknowledged her effort. Perhaps it was inevitable; her ideas were so far removed from the common sense of the world that she seemed like a fool chasing an impossible delusion. To some, the sight of a girl not even ten years old obsessed with such things might have even seemed eerie.

From then on, Lifa became obsessed with her research. It was the culmination of all her hard work—the very reason she existed. At this point, even she didn't know if she wanted to save the suffering or simply prove her detractors wrong. Perhaps she just wanted to leave behind proof that she had tried.

That was why she had been so happy when Harold—even through his trademark sarcasm—had praised her magic as an "effective means of attack." Even if he didn't mean it from the heart, he saw its utility and had even provided her with a connection to Justus to further her work.

Because of him, she was certain her magic could reach the next level.

"I can't thank Harold enough. I want to repay him someday. I truly do... and yet..."

She swallowed the words 'Why does he have to die?'

She could never say that to his face. Despite her gratitude, she couldn't be honest with him. But she had always wanted to be.

"Even if everyone else sees him as a villain, to me, he’s someone important. So, if Harold doesn't have much time left, I want to do whatever I can for him."

Just the thought of Harold dying filled her with a crushing sense of loss. Her chest tightened. Without her realizing it, Harold had come to occupy a massive space in her heart.

She wiped her blurred eyes with her sleeve.

"I don't want to say goodbye without knowing anything about him..."

It was likely nothing more than a selfish whim. But it was Lifa’s honest, unvarnished truth.

"Sigh... he really is a troublesome man. I fail to see the appeal of someone with such a foul personality," Justus murmured, sounding exasperated as he sipped his tea. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

After a moment of contemplation, he let out a defeated groan, as if finally surrendering.

"This is absolutely not to be repeated... no, let’s put it this way. If you can pretend you heard nothing here today, I will tell you. I will tell you the secret he carries."