“I thought that guy was acting a bit strange.”
Wolfman, the head of the Magic Tower, shook his head as he watched the scene through his familiar. It was the first time he’d seen Ayan’s face look so desperate, like someone grasping a hand pulling them from drowning. A peculiar emotion stirred in him. When he’d taken Ayan in, he’d never imagined witnessing this side of him.
They say everyone has their match. Even someone like him found someone to care for.
“Hah.” Wolfman let out a hollow laugh. Beside him, Baron Romeo—frozen stiff until now—nervously inquired, “Tower Lord, is something troubling you…?”
“Not at all. If anything, I’m grateful for your hospitality.” Wolfman drummed his fingers on the armrest with a faint smile.
Baron Romeo swallowed dryly, eyes trembling as he stared at the man before him. This was the ruler of the Magic Tower, the king of mages. Wolfman—a figure who reigned over the continent through the sheer might of sorcery. Though the Tower maintained neutrality by its founder’s decree, objectively speaking, Wolfman could topple empires with a flick of his wrist.
As expected of Rikasha…
Wolfman had traveled to the Grand Duke’s castle personally to check on his so-called disciple. Ayan carried the title of Rikasha, but seeing him as a mere boy made it hard to take seriously—even after the Grand Duchess hauled him from the dungeons. Yet now, with the Tower Lord himself casually strolling these halls, the reality sank in. And the Grand Duchess treating Ayan like a pet? Another matter entirely…
Baron Romeo shook off his thoughts. His post-meeting impression lingered:
He’s young.
The title “Tower Lord” conjured images of a wizened elder, but Wolfman defied expectations—strikingly youthful, with reddish-brown hair streaked silver, swept back and waxed into place. His deep-set eyes and sharp nose gave him the air of a theater actor.
“Tower Lord.”
“Drop the formality. ‘Wolfman’ suffices.”
“Y-yes, Wolfman. Regarding Ayan’s collapse…”
“No need for concern. Second awakenings aren’t fatal. He’s feigning it.”
“F-feigning?!”
“The boy’s a skilled actor.”
“Pardon?”
Baron Romeo gaped as Wolfman sipped tea, unbothered. What fraudster could perform so convincingly? Yet the Tower Lord showed no worry, calmly enjoying his drink.
“Tower Lord.”
Aide Benjamin whispered to Wolfman, who turned to see a blonde girl enter the reception room.
“Romeo, where’s the Tower Lo—” Kynemia froze mid-sentence, spotting Wolfman. She’d rushed here after forcing Ayan to rest upon hearing of the Tower Lord’s arrival.
Approaching with wide eyes, she bowed. “An honor to meet the Magic Tower’s esteemed ruler. I’m Kynemia Leon.”
“The pleasure is mine, Wings of Leon. ‘Wolfman’ will do.” He returned her courtesy warmly. Kynemia’s nervous smile softened his stern demeanor.
Observing her—a lark-like figure flitting about—she already felt like a granddaughter. Her respectful bow and smile filled him with inexplicable joy.
“Or ‘Grandfather,’ if you prefer.”
Kynemia’s mental gears ground to a halt. Grandfather?! The Tower Lord?! At our first meeting?!
“Yes, ‘Grandfather’ suits me.” Wolfman chuckled.
Why?! She masked her panic. This man outranked emperors, yet here she was, the Grand Duchess, acutely aware of servants’ sidelong glances.
Right. A proper lord hosts flawlessly. Time to impress!
Summoning dignity, Kynemia began, “Tower Lord, regarding Ayan—Hah!” She’d failed instantly. I was supposed to say ‘Rikasha’! Her eyes darted nervously. Curse you, Ayan…
“Ahem… Have you come to assess Rikasha’s condition?” She rolled her eyes, feigning nonchalance.
“Ayan’s fine as a name.”
“Ah, yes…” She flushed. “Force of habit.”
Wolfman’s grin widened. “Call me Grandfather.”
Again?!
Ignoring her deer-in-magic-light expression, he patted his knee. “You’re welcome to sit here, Kynemia.”
Am I supposed to accept this?! Servants whispered as Wolfman’s antics upstaged her hospitality efforts.
Then—
“Stop harassing a child, Master.”
Ayan yanked Kynemia backward into his arms.
“—?!” Her eyes bulged. Her nose filled with herbal potion scent, his firm grip anchoring her waist. She squirmed free instantly.
“Harassment?!” Wolfman’s voice sharpened. “Even post-awakening, your insolence persists.”
Kynemia added from a safe distance, “Why are you up? Rest!”
“Couldn’t leave you with this lecher.” Ayan glared at his smirking master. “As your guard.”
“You’ve no magic left.”
“…Ah.” Ayan winced at her bluntness. “That stung.”
His bitter smile made Kynemia falter. “I-it was a joke, idiot.”
“A joke?” He struggled to straighten his twitching lips.
“Yes!”
“I’ll believe you.” He resumed his place beside her, all smiles.
Wolfman snorted. What kind of guard…?
“Why visit at all?” Ayan demanded. “You’re hardly spry.”
“My thoughts exactly. Why bother when you’re so unwelcoming?” Wolfman sighed. To think this is my disciple… Wasted years.
“Kynemia.”
“Yes, Tower Lord.”
“Grandfather.”
Why?!
“This grandfather has a request.” Wolfman bulldozed over her bewilderment. No wonder Ayan’s like this—learned from the source!
“May I stay a few days? To monitor my disciple…”
“Nonsense,” Ayan cut in. “What’s your game?”
“Can’t a master care for his ailing pupil?”
“Since when do you—?”
Kynemia seized Ayan’s hand. “Your voice…!”
He stiffened. Her tiny fingers clamped around two of his, freezing his retort.
