"...Due to the incident, the studies will be suspended for a few days, however, do return on time."
Richard left these words and closed the door of the carriage.
With a loud neigh, the horses sped up, taking the carriage away from here.
Cyril observed it until it disappeared and turned around.
In front of him was an entrance to a specific part of the city center. The living area for those of high wealth.
Giant mansions were lined up on both sides of a wide, decorated road. They varied in size and lavishness, but anyone living here already counted as the richest of the Empire.
Back home so soon.
Cyril sighed and began walking, passing one decorated mansion after another.
"I am looking forward to it. You are finally taking me to see home!"
Rhamn walked by his side, her face already a bit brighter.
Cyril only sent her a tired glance. The butterfly on his shoulder also fluttered her wings in excitement.
"I am not sure if you'll like it, Morpho."
Suddenly a commotion on the road attracted his attention.
With a whistle, a big blur approached from afar, its speed on the road simply frightening.
Oh no...
In a mere moment, the blur was already near Cyril, where it quickly slowed down, raising a cloud of dust.
He remained unmoving as the dust obscured his vision.
A spell was soon cast, the winds clearing the air.
They revealed a luxurious carriage. It didn't have any horses in front, and crystal lined it near the wheels.
Someone jumped from the driving seat, gently landing on the ground without making any sound.
It was a woman with black eyes and long, slightly messy hair covered by a headband. She was dressed in a traditional ankle-length maid uniform.
"Master!" The maid quickly walked closer and bowed at ninety degrees, her voice flat.
"Ophelia, what are you doing here?"
The maid raised her body. Her face appeared to completely lack any expression.
"I am picking you up."
"I see..."
Cyril sighed.
I wanted to walk, but it's pointless to say anything to her. She would just silently go with me.
"Finally, a servant!" Rhamn was focused on something else.
She observed Ophelia's maid uniform up and down, nodding from time to time.
Calm down.
Without saying anything, Cyril walked to the side of the carriage.
The maid opened the door, and he familiarly boarded the carriage.
Once inside, he took a seat and activated a crystal nearby.
Soon from under his seat came a force firmly securing him in place.
"Why is there a spell like that? And why are there handlebars in a carriage?" Rhamn tilted her head in confusion as she sat opposite him.
Though soon her expression became alarmed.
"Morpho, hold on to Cyril for as firmly as you can!"
"Yes, be prepared."
Cyril whispered as he felt Ophelia jump to the driver's seat.
Outside, Ophelia grabbed a peculiar wheel-shaped handle in front of the driver's seat.
Her face still lacked any expression, however, deep in her black eyes a fire could be seen igniting.
As she put the strength into the handle, the carriage came alive, and its wheels started moving on their own.
Inside, Cyril braced himself as the speed gradually became faster and faster.
Eventually the many mansions visible through the window turned into a messy blur, as he felt a tremendous force act on his body.
Morpho, lying on his chest and shielded by his arms, was plastered completely flat, panic radiating from her.
Rhamn remained unaffected by the force, though her expression turned paler and paler.
After a few short but long moments, the carriage finally came to a stop.
Morpho weakly dropped in Cyril's hand, twitching from time to time.
"Sorry."
Cyril deactivated the spell acting on him and got up, stretching a bit in the process.
I feel better than usual.
"You are her Master! Why do you let her drive this carriage at such speeds? ...Why does a carriage have such speeds anyways!?"
This carriage was a present to my father. Countless resources were spent to enhance it, to an extent that only someone with substantial mana reserves can drive it.
However, father doesn't use carriages, so it was given to Ophelia, who ended up being quite fond of it.
...I don't mind letting her have some joy from driving.
The carriage door was soon opened from the outside, revealing the bowing Ophelia.
"We've arrived."
Her face was stiff and lifeless but somehow appeared more refreshed.
Exiting the carriage, Cyril now stood at the giant gates of a luxurious mansion.
Its walls were high, completely obscuring the courtyard from the outsider's gaze.
What was seen through the gilded gate was a sizeable garden with many colorful plants.
In a moment the gates opened up, revealing more.
At the center of the garden was a fountain with a gorgeous statue on top, however, it wasn't working.
Morpho instantly recovered at the sight around her and flew up from Cyril's hands.
He observed the curious butterfly exploring the courtyard and turned towards the nearest servant.
"Treat the butterfly as you would me."
The gardener bowed. "As you wish." Deep in their eyes was a trace of confusion, though he ignored it.
"Play around here for a while."
Cyril waved Morpho goodbye and went inside the mansion itself.
The butterfly excitedly twitched her antennae and flew to the closest plant.
"And you said she might not like it! It's a great place for her."
...Maybe.
...
"This place is not bad." Rhamn marveled at all the decorations as they navigated the mansion.
"But isn't it a bit neglected? The mansion is so big, but there are not that many servants around."
Some places, even if clearly expensive-looking, appeared dusty.
"The garden was kept better."
Cyril and Ophelia were the only two people walking in the corridor. Its size was impressive but also appeared somewhat oppressive.
"Oh? Is your dad collecting art?" Rhamn noticed the frequent paintings hanging at regular intervals.
...Apparently it's his hobby. Although I never saw him admire them. It's like he only likes the fact of owning them.
As for the neglect. Father dislikes the noise, so he keeps few servants. He also doesn't seem to care about the state of this place. He is rarely here.
He reached the double wooden doors and opened them, entering the dining room.
In the middle stood a long table covered with a pristine white tablecloth. On the very end of it sat a middle-aged man with blond hair and blue eyes.
Aside from the hair and eye color, his face didn't seem to resemble Cyril's too much.
Nostro Thorne flatly gazed at his son.
"Sit, let's have dinner."
He pointed to another seat to the side.
Ophelia closed the door behind Cyril and stood at attention, making herself unnoticeable.
Aside from the three of them, no other person was present in the spacious dining room.
Cyril calmly walked to the table and took his seat.
"How is your student life? I've heard-"
"Let's skip the pointless chatter. Tell me what is happening."
Cyril didn't waste any time, causing Nostro to pause.
"The demons attacked the Tower, I don't know more than you."
"That's not what I am talking about." Cyril shook his head and sighed.
"Just tell me honestly. Am I a human or not?"
As these words left his mouth, it's as if a deeper silence settled than the one before.
Nostro lowered his gaze to the plate in front of him, starting to slice a piece of meat.
"Looks like a guilty conscience to me. He definitely knows something!"
Let's try another angle.
"Someone sent me an illusory letter in the academy, telling me to hide anything unusual about myself. Do you know who that was?"
"...The principal of Ailanthus, Margaret. It was her, no doubt." Nostro muttered, his voice turning heavier.
He massaged his temple for a moment and got up from his seat.
"Ask Ophelia about what you are curious about, then leave this place. Return to your studies."
With this, he left the dining room.
"Now he is escaping?"
Ophelia?
Cyril turned towards the maid standing not far from him.
Her emotionless face remained the same as ever as she took a few steps closer. In her eyes there was a strange emotion Cyirl had never seen there before.
"Master, allow me. I am not unrelated to this matter."
She cast a spell, and a wave went off from her, making their surroundings somewhat darker.
She sealed off the room...
After a moment Cyril leaned into the chair and crossed his arms. "So?"
"I didn't expect we would get this information so easily."
Ophelia stood not far from him, her hands in front of her.
"Please allow me to ask a question first. What did you experience to make you doubt your identity?"
Her deep black eyes observed him without moving, expectation shining within.
What's with her?
Cyril hesitated briefly before replying.
"...I've been experiencing hallucinations, a voice that's not really there. My physique also changed, surpassing all my classmates."
Let's be cautious.
"Good call. I don't like this."
"You hear a voice..." Ophelia mumbled and kept silent for a moment.
As the look in her eyes changed somewhat, she nodded.
"This has something to do with the identity of your mother, Magdalene. She wasn't a human, so any irregularities within you are a result of her lineage."
"I knew it!"
However, Cyril's spirits became heavier as an ominous premonition began to gnaw at him once again.
"...What was her race then?"
"Same as mine. I am here to look after the child of our people."
"...?"
"'Our people'?"
Before replying, Ophelia slowly took off her headband.
Under Cyril's confused eyes, she parted her messy hair, revealing a pitch-black stump.
Heartbeat echoing loudly in his ears, Cyril's blue eyes shook as they fixated on the remains of a horn cut off long ago.
"We are 'demons,' as humans call us."
The events he just went through flashed in Cyril's mind.
The fire in the city, the butchered mages underground, and Cosmas's sadistic grin as he sent blood raining from the sky remained vividly in his vision.
Shit.