CHAPTER 312: CHAPTER 312: ARE YOU A SEER?

"What exactly is going on?"

Looking at their demeanour and attire, it was painfully clear that they were from the slums.

Lugh would know—he had once spent some time there himself, no matter how brief. The signs were unmistakable.

Selaphiel glanced at him, then back at them.

She spoke.

"You don’t have to worry. This is not something you should get involved in."

"Get involved?"

Lugh’s expression darkened.

Selaphiel repeated calmly,

"Like I said, it’s not really something that concerns you. There’s no need to interfere."

Lugh shot her a dubious look. She sighed, folding her arms.

"We’re not using them for experiments, neither are we going to endanger their lives. Are you happy now?"

Lugh nodded, though his frown remained.

Then he changed the topic.

"Hey, what does it mean when mages have dreams?"

Isolde and Selaphiel exchanged a brief look, puzzled.

Isolde was the first to respond.

"What do you mean by that? Everybody has dreams. It’s just something that happens. Which meaning are you looking for?"

Lugh spoke again.

"What about when the same dream repeats itself?"

Selaphiel sighed, rubbing her temples.

"I don’t know where all this is coming from, or what you’re thinking. All I know is that, in the magic community, only seers can claim to have dreams of significant meaning."

Lugh responded directly.

"In my dream, Pyrellis was under attack. People died. The city burned."

Selaphiel froze. She became dead still, and though she quickly readjusted her posture, the change did not go unnoticed.

After a pause, she spoke.

"Well, Lugh... are you a seer?"

Lugh was caught off guard by the question.

He answered cautiously.

"No."

"Then there’s nothing to worry about."

...

Lugh was sent on his way. As he drifted aimlessly through the long, marbled halls, the conversation replayed over and over in his mind.

Was he a seer?

He definitely wasn’t. But did one really need to be a seer to experience premonitions?

Considering all that had happened to him so far, Lugh wouldn’t be surprised if prophecy had somehow been added to his ever-expanding list of abilities.

Prophecy, huh?

Lugh froze as a thought came to mind.

What exactly was a seer? Someone who could predict future events with accuracy. But didn’t he already have something similar?

The power of the Mawglass—to glimpse two seconds into the future. A passive, constantly activated ability that caused a slight overlapping in his vision.

He had grown so used to it that it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

But what if...

This is bad.

Just as Lugh was thinking this, someone bumped into him. He staggered slightly.

She apologised quickly.

"Oh, sorry."

Lugh looked up—and met the gaze of Isolde’s eldest daughter. Sela.

Then he glanced around at the vast, expansive halls and the wide corridors that fed into them. Her "bumping" into him suddenly felt less like a coincidence.

He turned to her, unimpressed.

Feeling his gaze, she cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Uh... sorry about that. I just needed your attention."

"What for?"

Lugh asked, eyes narrowing. She answered without much hesitation.

"You remember those four?"

"Which four?"

"You know..."

She gestured vaguely.

"The ones who tried to kidnap us?"

Lugh gave an affirmative nod.

"What about them?"

"They’re here,"

She replied.

He frowned.

"Why?"

She shrugged lightly.

"Have you forgotten? I was the one who asked them to come here."

"Oh. Right. Good for you, I guess."

She stared at him for a while, eventually asking,

"Something running through your mind?"

"A lot of things, actually,"

He responded, before pausing.

"Where is Mirelle?"

"She’s still asleep,"

Sela replied, a wistful tone in her voice.

Lugh’s eyes drifted to the large ornate clock on the wall.

A few minutes past eight.

He turned back to her.

"Didn’t you say they should come at ten? Or was it eleven?"

She responded,

"I did. But they’re here already, and I’m awake, so why not just start?"

He inhaled, steady.

"Start what? What exactly do you want them to do? You said something about giving them a punishment, didn’t you?"

At the mention of that word—punishment—both Lugh and Sela frowned.

Isolde’s treatment still lingered vividly in their minds. It had shattered many of the stereotypes Lugh secretly harboured.

Like the belief that noble ladies weren’t whipped by their mothers. Or that once you turned eighteen, your parents would stop beating you.

Lugh shivered slightly, shaking the memory from his thoughts.

He asked her,

"So why do you need me?"

"...It’s nothing much, really. I was just wondering if you’d want to watch."

...

The Iron Dog and his crew—well, not all of them, just the four unlucky enough to be caught by those demons—fidgeted anxiously once the manor came into view.

They had splurged today. Worn their best clothes and shoes. Even hired a private carriage.

But just by coming into close proximity with the grandeur of high society, all their illusions were instantly shattered.

No amount of polish or posture could mask the truth.

They still didn’t want to believe that the person who had captured them last night was from the illustrious House Von Heim.

But in this situation, they couldn’t dismiss the possibility either. If their guess was wrong, the consequences would be disastrous.

After telling the guards they had been sent by the First Daughter, Selaphiel, they were made to wait an uncomfortable while before the massive front gate finally creaked open.

The private carriage they had rented was dismissed on the spot—replaced with an opulent manor-owned one that rolled in to escort them.

"Wow... that’s a lot of green,"

The hulking man of the group muttered absentmindedly as they looked out the windows.

The surroundings blurred by, teeming with carefully curated flora. Plants of all kinds visible from every angle.

Another man spoke. His long hair had been gelled and packed into a bun in an attempt to cultivate a dignified air. Still, he couldn’t help but ramble at the scenery.

"As expected of nobles... even the air tastes different."

"I know right?"

Suddenly the horses jerked, and the carriage veered off course, rerouting. They were no longer heading for the main building.

Their destination had changed.

They gulped.