“…I truly thank you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay this debt.”

Colin bent so low it seemed his forehead might touch the floor.

He might have been a man with little connection to the Tower’s solemn dignity, but he was still a high-ranking officer bearing one of its pillars.

His bow was no light gesture.

It was proof of the immense gratitude he felt toward me.

“Had it not been for you, I’d have been finished.”

“If you feel that way, then make sure you take good care of Sage at the Tower.”

“That? I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”

Because of Gellan’s outburst, the trial had ended in disorder, and Colin had not lost his position as Head of School.

That his research into black magic was recognized as a contribution had helped.

A lie I had spun on the spot had turned into truth, since he had indeed exposed and destroyed a black mage.

‘If Colin remains a School Head, it benefits me.’

With both ability and authority, he could support Sage with everything he had.

“But I never thought you had such a talent.”

His eyes were odd as he spoke.

“Research into black magic—is that really true?”

“Of course not. It’s just an innate gift.”

“Innate gift?”

“Let’s just say it’s an ability of a druid.”

I brushed it off vaguely.

I was the only druid in this world.

Whatever I claimed, Colin would have no choice but to take me at my word.

“Tch, I see. A shame. If we could grasp the principle, we could wipe out the black mages entirely.”

He clicked his tongue in regret, but I ignored him.

I had no reason to indulge him that far.

“Be content that you’ve flushed out the rats within the Tower.”

Gellan hadn’t been the only black mage.

The officers, disciples, and researchers working with him were now all under arrest and interrogation.

Each of them a black mage—each of them to be punished.

‘They were the ones who, later on, would try to overthrow the Tower’s scenario.’

If left alone, they’d throw the world into chaos, even threaten Sage.

Since the chance had come, I intended to root them all out.

“Ah, right. And what about you pointing out people who weren’t even present? You can’t explain that as a druid’s gift.”

“…”

His words made me flinch.

I acted as though it was just me muttering to myself.

There had been black mages who kept to the shadows, with no direct ties to Gellan.

I’d accused them of colluding with him anyway, dragging them in for questioning.

The evidence was forged, yes—but what could they do?

The truth would out eventually: they were black mages.

“People say a contractor is well-read, but it’s strange you already knew so much about the Tower. The way you dug up Gellan’s corruption as if you’d been waiting for it… you…”

Colin laid a hand on my shoulder.

I watched silently, waiting to hear what nonsense he’d spin.

“…You must have had a grudge against him.”

“…?”

Why leap to that?

“That bastard was always foul-mouthed, and after his house fell he pulled all sorts of dirty tricks. There are plenty who’d gnash their teeth at him. Mm, I see it now. Sage’s talent is genuine, but you must’ve also come looking for me out of a personal vendetta.”

He nodded to himself, supplying his own commentary.

“Was he your parents’ killer, perhaps? With your noble bearing, you could well be from a fallen house yourself.”

“…”

“I understand you keeping silent. In noble society, fallen houses conceal their identities for life. Even Gellan did, until he became a School Head.”

He was drumming up his own story without me saying a word.

Somehow, I had become a tragic noble scion with a ruined past.

‘There’s no way this body was really from a fallen noble house… right?’

According to factory workers, it belonged to a lower-class man.

But then again, there was no way to confirm.

All I had were the words of common laborers.

‘…The burn scars did make him shunned. But it is true, for someone of the lower class, this face is too fine.’

Was it possible he had been a fallen noble, and had scarred himself in desperation?

My thoughts tangled.

‘I’ll have to look into it when I get the chance.’

This was my body now, my past.

If there was a hidden truth, I would have to accept it.

“Head Colin, Master Allen.”

A clatter of bootsteps heralded a group’s approach.

Unlike the grim-faced Illeman faction, these wore mild expressions.

They were from the Tower’s Pursuit Division—the branch that hunted and executed traitors, not studied magic.

Thanks to me, they had made a huge achievement and were favorably inclined.

“We will escort you to the council chamber.”

“What now? More tedious business?”

“It concerns the acquisition of the Tower Master’s research artifacts, which you brought up as an agenda.”

I rose without a word.

‘The final hurdle.’

All the turmoil so far had only been an appetizer.

The recovery of the druid’s legacy was the true purpose of my visit to the Tower.

I steeled myself as I followed them to the chamber.

‘A fallen noble, huh.’

Colin kept stealing glances at Allen’s face.

The bold eyebrows and luminous eyes gave an impression impossible to forget.

The slender chin, flawless white skin—there was a touch of nobility about him.

‘He denies it, but he must be.’

A commoner couldn’t have such looks.

The clipped speech, the dignified poise in his manner.

The deep knowledge of the Tower, the way he had exposed Gellan’s misdeeds.

Each detail pointed to a noble birth.

‘Then his disciple must be similar.’

Not in looks, perhaps.

But likely from a similar background.

‘Well, of course she wouldn’t be ordinary.’

A once-in-a-millennium talent, her brilliance assured.

Surely she was not of lowly blood.

‘Tch, one ought not get involved with fallen nobles.’

It was hard to say whether it was good or bad fortune.

Even with the monarchy gone, the nobles of the cities remained, building closed societies.

A fallen noble meant someone with enemies, someone marked by circumstance.

Some even disfigured themselves to survive.

Nothing good came of entangling with them—only conflict with the city’s upper echelons.

But mages repaid debts.

If they borrowed, they repaid; if they received, they returned in kind.

This favor Allen had given was worth overlooking his dubious past.

‘He won’t speak of it, so I’ll have to find out myself.’

If he was to help at the right time, he needed to know beforehand.

That meant investigating.

He had contacts enough from his wanderings to dig it up.

‘But first, the artifacts must be recovered.’

He wasn’t worried.

He had earned credit enough that the council should conclude quickly.

With the excuse that the Tower Master himself had ordered the research, if he spoke well they could proceed right away…

“I oppose it.”

“…”

A voice cut across the chamber, as if waiting for them to arrive.

Colin, who had entered boldly, now faltered and glanced at Allen.

“Not half a day has passed since he was tried like a criminal. And now you would raise him as the Tower Master’s disciple, to the highest ranks? And with an outsider of unknown origin beside him? Over my dead body.”

“…That cantankerous old man Derman hasn’t changed a bit.”

Colin muttered under his breath.

Derman—an elder with sharp glasses and a stricter glare.

He had been influenced by Gellan during the trial, but he was no black mage.

He merely shared Gellan’s disposition and sympathized with his stance.

He was a traditionalist, a bigot.

His pride in the Tower soared to the heavens, and he despised anything that might threaten it.

When it came to the Tower Master, he regarded the post as sacrosanct.

The idea of letting an outsider in was beyond him.

“The trial already ended in acquittal. This outsider is Colin’s disciple’s guardian and achieved much for us. Since we were at fault, that should be repayment enough.”

One elder defended us, but Derman shook his head.

“Too much.”

“With the Tower Master’s disciple at his side, he can’t act rashly.”

“A man who isn’t even a mage stepping foot in the Tower? And the Tower Master’s chamber, no less! Do you call this normal?!”

Derman slammed the table in rage.

Looking around, I saw many agreed with him.

Even if Colin was the Tower Master’s disciple, if it were only him it might pass—but bringing an outsider was too much.

“This is troublesome.”

At this rate, it would be easier just to slip the artifacts out.

But it wasn’t the best solution.

Some relics couldn’t simply be carried out.

Not because of procedure, but physical limitations—touch them wrong, and they might shatter. That was why they were protected by magic as valuable treasures.

The surest way was still direct entry into the Tower Master’s chamber.

“For now, you’d best return. I’ll do what I can to get permission…”

“That won’t be necessary.”

There wasn’t the slightest flicker of unease on Allen’s face.

It was as though he’d expected this all along.

Just like during the trial, he spoke with calm confidence, presenting a ready solution.

“You already have a plan?”

“In the end, their argument comes down to this: that an unqualified man cannot enter.”

Allen’s gaze stretched beyond.

Across the council chamber loomed the colossal gateway that led straight to the Tower Master’s room.

“Then all I need do… is prove I have the qualification.”

No one but a mage could be allowed into the Tower Master’s chamber.

It was exactly the sort of rigid claim you’d expect from the elders obsessed with the Tower’s identity as an elite order.

I’d anticipated it.

If I knew the stubborn minds of the Tower’s higher-ups, then yes, this was inevitable.

‘Even if the Tower Master himself were here, nothing would change.’

Colin was optimistic, but his teacher was cut from the same cloth.

Colin was the odd one—free-spirited, fond of breaking rules.

The Tower Master would never stoop to seek outside help, never lower his pride, even at the cost of progress.

That’s why his absence was a blessing.

It was easier to do the deed first, then gain permission afterward.

A truth I’d once heard in the real world—a truth that worked just as well here.

“You’re the one, then?”

Derman spoke.

Here, he was the mouthpiece of the elders’ will.

“My name is Allen.”

“So, you’re the one asking to see the Tower Master’s research?”

“It’s a druid’s relic. If entrusted to me, I can bring real progress.”

“Druid?”

The chamber buzzed with murmurs.

Most had never even heard the word.

‘So even here in the Tower, knowledge of it is scarce.’

It was a veiled and forgotten calling.

Without a string of luck, I myself wouldn’t have learned even a fragment of it.

“Even if the relic relates to you, it belongs to the Tower.”

“I don’t claim ownership. As I said, I wish only to assist in the research.”

“Still no. You are no mage. You have no right to stand alongside us.”

The air pressed heavy, as if his words carried mana enough to crush.

If I insisted, he would gladly use force.

“Then I’ll prove my qualification.”

“…What?”

“If I can demonstrate magical aptitude, will you grant permission?”

“…Hah.”

A scoffing laugh.

Derman sneered.

“And how do you propose to prove it? Solve one of the Seven Great Problems of Magic?”

The Seven Problems—an Easter egg of sorts.

Even scholars who’d devoted lifetimes had given up on them.

If someone solved one, it would be proof enough of ability.

But they were never meant to be solved.

I knew. I’d tried myself in past lives, as had countless others.

The conclusion was clear: there were no answers.

There was an easier way.

“I’ll step into the Tower Master’s chamber myself.”

“Did you not hear me? I said no one without permission can enter.”

“I mean to bypass its protections.”

“…”

This time, not even a scoff.

Derman’s brow shot up, anger flashing.

“Are you mad?”

“That would be proof enough of qualification, wouldn’t it?”

The chamber’s protection was the pinnacle of the Tower’s wards.

Layer upon layer, refined for generations, it permitted entry only to the Master.

In terms of difficulty, it was akin to the Seven Problems.

That I claimed I could breach it was an insult.

“…Fine, try. Regret won’t save you later.”

Their intent was plain.

The wards didn’t just bar intruders—they destroyed them.

Fail, and I’d die.

The elders lost nothing by letting me try.

“Regret? That’s your line.”

If I weren’t confident, I wouldn’t have spoken.

I strode past, to the great iron door.

Before me sprawled the intricate spell array—a presence that rejected outsiders.

‘Ironic that even the Tower Master himself feels the same awe.’

There had been objections once: what if something happened inside—how could the Master escape?

Even he couldn’t dismantle the wards head-on.

So a hidden key was passed down, a shortcut baked into the design.

Generations of Masters had layered their own additions until the wards were a realm of magic in themselves.

Still, the core remained.

Like knocking out a foundation stone, if you unraveled the original structure, the rest would fall in turn.

But even that was no easy feat.

The first Master had crafted them to protect a persecuted community.

Qualification meant pure mana.

That was the test.

‘And for me, that’s simple.’

Pure mana was raw, unprocessed.

And I commanded it.

Fwoooosh—!

The spirits stirred.

They were nature’s messengers, pure condensed mana, like the circuits etched into cocoons that ran without fuel.

Wummmm—!

“What…!”

The array trembled.

The elders leapt to their feet.

Cracks split the formation, from which a violent storm howled.

The wind screamed, like the wails of the array itself.

For the first time in ages, the wards awakened, and their force shook the Tower to its roots.

My body staggered, eyes forced shut, but my fingers burned with sensation.

The spirits were guiding me, straight to the path.

And then, with a blaze of light—

Clack!

A lock unlatched.

“….”

The storm stilled.

The wards no longer shrieked.

What had been a patchwork of additions now unified into perfect balance.

A structure flawless, in symmetry and in form.

The original.

The primal spell that barred the Tower Master’s chamber.

And then—

Koo-goo-goong!

The door swung open.

“…!”

“Has it been proven?”

I turned back and asked.

The stupefied faces of the elders were answer enough.

(End of Chapter)