translation by mourningmoor
I left the youngest alone at the hospital and headed to Seoul.
On the way to Seoul, Gyuhyung kept chattering about the events that happened at the hospital.
The things that happened in that short time—like how Jaewon cried after overhearing the conversation between Jaewon's mom and me outside the hospital room, how a nurse recognized us and made a fuss, and how the hospital director asked for autographs because his daughter was a fan of ours, and so on.
A lot happened in such a short time.
“L.I.T. responded better than I thought.”
It seemed like he was quite proud of that.
Now, as if he no longer worried about Jaewon's mom's surgery, his lips were even curling into a smile. Then, suddenly, he let slip an incredibly tactless comment.
"By the way, I didn’t see Jaewon’s dad. Is he working late the night before the surgery? No, it’s Saturday, so he probably didn’t go out to the bank."
"Hyung."
At least one thing I was grateful for was that he asked that question when Jaewon wasn’t around.
"How do you manage an idol group with that kind of awareness?"
"Huh?"
The way he turned to look at me with wide, surprised eyes really made him look like a bear. A bear who was startled by a hunter in the forest.
"Pay attention to the signs. It’s obvious something happened between him and his dad."
It can’t be helped that he looks like a bear, but if his awareness is also like a bear's, that’s a problem. After all, he’s supposed to be the chief manager of L.I.T.
Gyuhyung, who had been blinking his innocent eyes slowly, narrowed his brows.
"Ah... now that I think about it, you're right."
"Drive properly too."
When Gyuhyung, clearly flustered and anxious, looked worried, the van, which had been running quietly, suddenly shook. The mistake had been leaving in such a hurry without the road manager. The road to Seoul was long, and I wasn’t sure if I could trust him to handle it.
"My goal is to live a short and narrow life, but I don't plan on dying young."
Still, I should enjoy what I can in this world, right?
"I’ll gift you, hyung, the incredible focus and awakening ability of this lightning-struck jujube tree, so focus on driving."
Then, I snapped my fingers.
Immediately, a small amount of magical energy flowed into Gyuhyung. He probably felt his mind snap to attention. But, the person himself just took it as a lighthearted joke.
"Thanks, I’m wide awake now. Hey."
I felt a bit deflated.
But, well, what can I do? This is reality.
I let out a tired laugh and leaned my chair back, closing my eyes.
"Then, good luck. I'm going to catch up on some sleep for now."
Since falling into this world, I've lived fiercely for the past four months, barely getting any proper rest. And today, I finally wrapped up the breathless album activities.
Maybe it was the release of the tension, but sleep hit me hard.
* * *
Surrounded by clouds, at the top of the magic tower, was the "Spirit Garden."
Jesquière, dressed in the ceremonial robes of a grand wizard, strolled leisurely through the garden.
"Lord Jesquière."
Salimandra, spotting Jesquière, waved her hand with a delighted expression and rushed over.
"L-Lord Jesquière."
Salimandra, a 8th-circle wizard, had turned 122 years old this year. Perhaps because of that, she looked quite exhausted, panting as she caught her breath.
The Grand Master level was just a few steps away. Once she reached the 9th circle, Salimandra's years would stop.
Of course, it would have been ideal if she could have reached that level in her youthful prime and lived forever young, but that was something only Jesquière could achieve. For an ordinary wizard, to live to 122 and stop the aging process was already a remarkable feat. Simply surviving to that age was proof enough of her being a great wizard.
"Salimandra. How have you been?"
Placing a hand on Salimandra's shoulder to lend her some strength, Jesquière smiled warmly in greeting. This caused a look of surprise to cross Salimandra's face.
"Yes? We saw each other at the council today."
"Council?"
"Yes. A messenger came from the temple and said there would be a continental meeting regarding the pile of black bird corpses discovered at the northernmost part of the continent."
What is this about?
Jesquière racked his memory. The discovery of the pile of black bird corpses—it was an event that occurred just before the war with the Demon King's faction. That had been the starting point of that long, grueling war.
"That happened this morning?"
"Yes. That's why I sent a messenger to you, Lord Jesquière, and invited you to the council..."
"Did Parapara declare that they wouldn't participate in the investigation?"
"Yes."
That's right. The pile of black bird corpses had been discovered right at the border between Rekta and Sullon, and both nations, hoping that the ominous omen didn’t belong to either side, leaned on the temple to convene a continental meeting.
And as the head of Parapara, Jesquière had decided on non-participation.
He used the excuse that it would be unreasonable for the magician faction to involve themselves in such trivial matters happening across the continent.
[Perhaps if someone like the heretic Demon Lord Daimon from the Shadow Swamp shows up, then it might be worth paying attention. But such matters should be handled by the regent.]
But that was just an excuse.
What he truly wanted was to prevent innocent magicians from being sacrificed in the chaos across the continent. No matter how much he was the Guardian of Armania, he was the leader of Parapara before that.
Jesquière had seen countless events unfold over his 300-plus years of life.
Whether it was a small matter or a big one, whenever something happened, the people of the continent always sought the help of magicians. And every time, it was the magicians who were used and trampled on.
They praised and served them when things went well, but as soon as something went wrong, they turned their arrows toward the magicians. They blamed and cursed, saying the magicians didn’t act quickly enough, or sometimes, that they acted too hastily and ruined things.
So, Jesquière set a condition: call for help when the Demon Lord appears. Until then, Parapara would not get involved.
He went back up to the Mage Tower and entered into yet another long retreat.
While Parapara, under the protection of the Grand Mage, enjoyed peace in isolation, across the continent, the stirrings of war began to boil.
[When will the Guardian of Armania turn his attention to his duties?]
[Jesquière. Leave the Tower and fulfill your responsibilities.]
[In the end, the Demon Lord has shown himself. You can no longer turn a blind eye.]
Jesquière, who had been secluded due to the constant nagging of his master, Yondran, eventually had no choice but to step out of his retreat and stand at the center of the war.
[Goodness. Master, really. When did I ever neglect my duties? My duty is to protect Parapara and the Mage Tower. Right now, more than ever, I am devoted to my responsibilities.]
[You swore to the Goddess. You promised to protect those who believe in and follow you.]
[Then answer me, Master. Are the people of this world believing in and following us?]
At his disciple's question, the master hesitated and could not immediately respond.
[Do you really think they view us as nothing more than jesters?]
[Jesters? Grand Mage, you are going too far. How could a magician ever be a mere jester? We are the ones most favored by the Goddess's grace.]
[That’s exactly why I’m saying this.]
It was an ironic situation. Though they were the highest-ranking class on the continent, closest to the gods, they were also the most despised.
[Because we are born as the ones most favored by the Goddess’s grace, we are both objects of worship and, ultimately, of jealousy by humans.]
In times of peace, we were nothing more than an inconvenience.
That’s why they wanted us to remain in Parapara, living quietly without stirring. But whenever something small happened, they were quick to make a fuss, asking for our help.
[In the Temple of the Goddess, they will use the power granted to us by the Goddess to place us at the center of the war.]
At this rate, even apprentices might have to be sent to the battlefield. A peace maintained by the blood of magicians...
[How many magicians must be sacrificed before fulfilling the duties of a Guardian?]
[If we do not act, the very reason for Parapara's existence will cease. We are the guardians who protect this continent. Jesquière.]
[Are you telling me to watch my people fall before my eyes? Do I have to witness their deaths again? Do I have to push them into the threshold of death once more with my own hands? Is that what it means to fulfill my duty as a Guardian?]
And so, Jesquière decided to join the war.
[Alright. I will join the war. But I’ll go alone.]
[Jesquière!]
[Don’t worry. You’ll have to go too, Master. Those who join must be 6th Circle or higher. The rest will stay to protect Parapara. Understood?]
It was a grueling fight. The 6th and 7th Circle magicians were nearly wiped out, and by the last battle, the remaining forces were few.
But Jesquière had no regrets. At least he had saved the magicians below the 5th Circle.
"Salamandra?"
For reasons unknown, Jesquière thought he had come from a time in the past.
"Yes, Jesquière-nim."
"The pile of black birds' corpses."
If there was one thing Jesquière regretted, it was that he should have gone to the site when the pile of black birds' corpses was discovered.
At the temple, they believed the pile of black birds' corpses was a divine omen signaling the resurrection of the Demon King.
An omen of the Demon King's resurrection. If only he had seen it with his own eyes and made a judgment... Perhaps he could have stopped the resurrection of the Demon King.
It might be too late now, but he had to check, even now.
"Shall we go check?"
"Pardon?"
Before Salimandra's reply could even finish, a blue light flickered from Jesquière's fingertips, and a gate opened.
Salimandra, startled, blinked in disbelief.
"Th-this...! As expected of the Grand Mage! To summon a teleportation gate with just a snap of your finger..."
I smiled pleasantly and patted Salimadra's shoulder lightly.
"Let's go. Shall we?"
With that, I stepped into the gate.
The moment my foot touched the gate, the color of the sky shifted.
The sky darkened, and the heavy, damp air confirmed we had reached the northernmost tip.
The place was filled with black and red rocks, and in the center, a dark grave could be seen.
"I think that's it. The pile of black bird corpses."
"It seems so."
The people gathered from all over the continent moved busily around the black grave, each person focused on their tasks.
Locals, soldiers from Rekta and Sulon, administrators, and even those who had come from the Divine Temple were present. The Holy Knights could also be seen among them.
Then, suddenly, my gaze froze on one man.
A tall figure dressed in a black hood that reached his ankles.
The aura he emitted felt strangely familiar.
As I began to move toward him, Salimandra whispered urgently.
"Grand Mage, please be careful. If you approach him, you might get noticed...!"
Before Salimandra could finish, the man turned around.
And I was frozen in place.
With crimson eyes and gray hair, the man’s unsettlingly beautiful appearance could only belong to one being.
The Demon King.
The pile of black bird corpses was never a prophecy of the Demon King's resurrection—it was simply a sign meant to announce his return.
In the end, it had always been a war that couldn’t be stopped.
And then, it happened.
The Demon King twisted his crimson lips into a strange smile.
"You truly shine so brilliantly, as always, Jesquière. No matter where you are or what form you take, I will always recognize you."
In that moment, the Demon King's body began to fade away from the ground beneath him. It seemed like he was teleporting.
And with the Demon King's final words, I realized that this was all a dream.
"Well then, see you again, my junior."