A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 142: Training Program (2)

Chapter 142: Training Program (2)

“Isn’t this a little too much?” Yeriel murmured.

At Yukline Castle in Hadecaine, Yeriel felt somewhat overwhelmed as she welcomed Deculein back to the mansion. The lineup of mentors he had assembled for the Yukline Magic Training Program seemed almost excessive.

“... This is going to cost more than it’s worth, you know? Did you even consider the expenses? You used the family’s checkbook to pay for it all, didn’t you?”

The training program wasn’t a major event; it was just one part of Yukline’s broader sponsorship efforts, which extended beyond mages to include knights, artists, and musicians. But bringing in an elder from Berhert for something like this...

“This befits the name of Yukline,” Deculein declared, seated in the lord's chair.

Yeriel pressed her lips together, but any objection died on her tongue as his next words came.

“It would do you well to take greater pride in your family.”

His words hit her like a knife to the heart.

“... But isn’t that old geezer Gindalf still on bad terms with us?” Yeriel asked, quickly shifting the topic. She wasn’t the type to show her pain.

“That is a matter of the past,” Deculein replied.

“... Weren’t you the one who swore you’d never forget?”

Deculein quietly sipped his tea, letting the silence linger.

Watching him closely, Yeriel continued, “Anyway, thanks to all this, we’ve had a huge number of applicants for the training program. We’re even planning to accept not only university-level mages.”

“Are you referring to adventurers?”

"Yeah. The world is changing fast, and with the Marik underground tunnels in mind, we need to strengthen our ties with the Adventurer’s Guild. Offering training program spots would make them eager to cooperate."

Ever since the training program's costs had skyrocketed, Yeriel had been determined to recover every expense. Sponsorship or not, it was, in essence, an investment disguised as generosity.

“I will leave it in your hands. The young are better suited to adapting to the shifting times,” Deculein said.

“... Sure, like you’re not still young yourself.”

Deculein rose from the lord’s chair with a quiet chuckle, a faint smile playing on his lips. The sight left Yeriel momentarily stunned, but she quickly hurried over to reclaim the seat.

“I shall take my leave now,” Deculein said.

“What? ... Alright.”

As Deculein walked away, Yeriel watched him go, keeping the chill and ache in her heart carefully hidden.

Thud—

But as the office door clicked shut, a sudden wave of nausea washed over her.

“Ugh!” Yeriel exclaimed, rushing to the bathroom and clutching the rim of the toilet as she retched.

“Bleeeh—!”

Yeriel emptied everything she’d eaten that morning, once, twice, three times—until only bitter bile remained. Gasping for breath, she slumped against the wall, her body trembling.

“Gack... ahh.”

Every day, it gets harder to act like everything’s okay. It’s a struggle to accept that I’m not really a Yukline. I still manage to smile and work hard for the territory and the vassals... but Deculein isn’t my real family. I’m not a Yukline, and that won’t ever change, Yeriel thought.

“Honestly...”

Yeriel couldn’t tell whether her mother’s unfaithfulness was to blame or if her father had chosen to raise her despite knowing the truth.

“... Why.”

Even so, Deculein had known the truth all along. Yet, despite everything, he kept treating me... just like he always had...

“Yeriel is still Yeriel.”

The voice stayed sharp in her memory, the hint of a tremor in Deculein’s tone etched deeply in her mind.

“... Sniff,” Yeriel whispered, wiping her eyes with her sleeve before any tears could escape. She quickly splashed water on her face, regained her composure, and returned to the lord's chair as if nothing had happened.

Knock, knock—

The knock came at the perfect moment, and she answered calmly, “Yes, come in.”

The elderly butler, who had faithfully served the Yukline family for generations, stepped forward and presented Yeriel with a document.

“And what do we have here?”

“It is a request for cooperation from the Empire, regarding the impending monster migration,” the elderly butler said.

“Oh, is it?” Yeriel said as she skimmed the document, her brow furrowing. “They’re certainly asking for a lot, aren’t they?”

“Yes, Lady Yeriel. It appears the Empire has been carefully monitoring Yukline’s recent achievements.”

Hadecaine and the Yukline family had recently entered an era of unprecedented prosperity. Long recognized as one of the top magical houses, they typically ranked fourth or fifth among their peers.

But now, with the renovation of the Marik underground tunnels, advancements across various industries, the expansion of the family’s Mage Tower and knights' order, and the seemingly endless support from the Imperial family for the Roharlak Concentration Camp, their status was rising even higher.

Of course, these developments brought their own challenges, such as threats from beasts and demonic creatures in Marik, massive industrial investments, opportunists exploiting vulnerabilities, ongoing guerilla attacks from rivals, and inevitable resistance from the central government.

However, Yeriel and her advisors had anticipated most of these issues and prepared accordingly.

“Just agree to everything. There’s no use fighting it. Pay in cash,” Yeriel said.

“Yes, Lady Yeriel. And regarding the payments to the central officials, how shall we proceed?”

“Hmm. Regarding that...”

The Yukline family stood at a crossroads, weighing whether to align with the religious faction or maintain their support for the imperial side. The previous generation had once stood with the crown and paid a heavy price for that choice...

“Let’s back the Empire. I’ve gotten word from our sources,” Yeriel said.

“Yes, Lady Yeriel.”

This time would be different. The current Empress, Sophien, wasn’t the type to place her trust in her officials and ministers easily.

“Oh, and what’s the progress on canceling the engagement?”

More good news came as Yulie, who had been a persistent problem for Yeriel, finally saw her influence fade.

“There’s no way we could let a disgraced knight into our family, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Lady Yeriel. Discussions are still ongoing, but the approval of the family elders is required, which has slowed the progress...” the elderly butler replied.

“Tch. Is that so? Well, since Deculein hasn’t bothered to step in, I suppose he’s already written her off.”

Yeriel believed it was more likely that Yulie had been cast aside for defying Deculein and provoking his anger rather than for her crimes. Either way, the outcome suited Yeriel just fine. The engagement with Freyden had never brought Yukline any significant advantage.

“That will be all for now. You may leave,” Yeriel said.

“Yes, Lady Yeriel.”

After dismissing the elderly butler, Yeriel closed her eyes in the quiet of the empty office. A wave of discomfort knotted in her stomach, but she reassured herself that everything would be all right.

“... I’m fine.”

I just need to endure it on my own. Nothing will change anyway. There's no reason for me to suffer like this. No, I don’t even have the right to feel this way. Deculein has already gone through so much more. After facing deeper doubts and struggles than mine, he finally accepted me as Yeriel... Yeriel thought.

“Ugh... ahh,” Yeriel muttered, choking back the nausea as she struggled to stay upright.

***

Meanwhile, Epherene had completed her preparations for the training program. She had sent all her belongings ahead to Lake Island, nearly finished the thesis she was to submit to Deculein, and scored almost perfectly on her exams. Now, that everything was finally set in place...

“Here it is! One whole Roahawk special, coming right up!” the restaurant owner called out.

Epherene gathered with her club members at the Flower of the Pig. It had been a while since the whole group had come together, including Julia, Rondo, and Ferit.

“Woooah—!”

The whole roasted Roahawk was a true delicacy, a boar cooked to perfection. Struggling to contain her excitement, Epherene reached for a hind leg first.

“Oh, by the way, Ephie,” Julia called out to her.

“Hm?” Epherene replied, biting into the meat.

“What are you planning to do about Civil Support?”

Civil Support was a mandatory course for Mage Tower mages. With winter approaching and the southern advance soon to begin, the mages would temporarily halt their research to be deployed against the beast waves.

Civil Support offered mages a choice between two paths. They could opt for the relatively safe route of civilian aid or take on the riskier but more rewarding fire support, leaving the decision up to each individual.

“I’m not sure. I guess I’ll just go wherever the professor goes,” Epherene said.

“Professor Deculein?”

“Yeah. How about you?” Epherene asked, tearing into the Roahawk’s hind leg and finishing the forearm-sized portion in just three minutes.

“I’m planning to go back to my territory and take on civilian aid,” Ferit said.

“Me too,” Rondo said.

Ferit and Rondo, both commoners who had earned scholarships to the university, each had their own plans in mind.

“Mmm, I see,” Epherene mumbled, nodding with her mouth full.

As she kept chewing, Julia spoke up again.

“Do you know where Professor Deculein is going?”

“Oh, that? I’m not sure yet. I heard it’s the final test to choose the new chairperson,” Epherene said after swallowing her food.

“Oh, right. So, about the training program—”

“Hold on, let me finish eating first. I need to concentrate on this Roahawk for a bit,” Epherene said as she dove back into the dish.

The Roahawk, which she hadn’t enjoyed in ages, was absolutely delicious. As she savored each bite, a sudden thought hit her like a spark of electricity.

“Roahawk has become quite the delicacy. My favorite time having it was with the professor.”

It was something she had heard once, somewhere, though the memory was faint. Epherene’s eyes widened as she looked around.

“What’s wrong, Ephie?”

“Huh? Oh... it’s nothing. Let’s just eat,” Epherene said as she turned back to the Roahawk, and the faint voice faded away into the back of her mind. “This is absolutely amazing... just unbelievably good...”

Epherene ate with joy, her cheeks bulging like a hamster’s, feeling perfectly content with everything around her.

***

Lake Island lived up to its name—a stretch of land resting in the middle of a lake. Its size and depth were remarkable, almost beyond what you’d expect from a typical lake, but its isolation in the inland waters made it one. The island sat at the lake’s center, just one of many enigmatic spots scattered across Yukline territory.

And there I was, fishing by the shore. I sat comfortably in a chair sculpted with Aesthetic Sense, holding a fishing rod imbued with Midas Touch, letting the time slip away.

Chirp, chirp— Chirp, chirp—

Birdsong filled the air from the nearby woods, while the sun sparkled on the lake’s emerald surface.

Bubble, bubble—

Suddenly, the line jerked, and I used Telekinesis to pull the fish from the water.

Splash—!

Water splashed in all directions as the fish wriggled free from the lake. I checked its description first.

???????

[Manafin]

? Description

: A rare fish found only in crystal-clear lakes. The Yukline family has banned fishing for this species to preserve its delicate ecosystem. Those who attempt to catch it should do so with care.

? Category

: Miscellaneous ? Food

? Special Effect

: Slightly increases mana when consumed. (However, the effect diminishes the greater the mana capacity.)

???????

It was a rare fish that contained mana. Even if the increase was small—less than ten points or even just a fraction—it was still better than nothing. I slid the fish into my net.

"Is the fishing to your liking, Professor?" a voice unexpectedly spoke from behind.

I offered no response, instead casting the line once more and continuing my quiet fishing. Moments later, Deputy Director Primien made her presence known.

"I must admit, it never crossed my mind that you would take an interest in fishing, Professor," Primien remarked.

Indeed, there were few pastimes I found tolerable—chess, reading, horseback riding, art, and fishing among them. Though I maintained a strict preference for refinement and order, fishing did not trouble me. Perhaps it was because the late Emperor Crebaim had also taken pleasure in it.

"What brings you here?" I inquired, employing Ductility to fashion another chair.

"The matter concerns Sylvia," Primien said, settling into the chair. "The Mana Conductivity of the Nameless Island she created has surpassed all expectations and poses a significant risk. Additionally, we have confirmed that Sylvia bears a grudge against you."

"... A grudge."

"Yes, Professor. It appears that Idnik has disclosed everything about the past to Sylvia. We have sensed a murderous intent emanating from her mana wave."

"Hmm. So, you have sensed her mana waves. It appears your vigilance in monitoring her has been thorough."

"Professor, this is not a matter to be taken lightly. The current level of monitoring is inadequate. We must elevate it to red-level surveillance given her threat level, and the higher authorities are even considering deploying operatives from the Intelligence Agency."

I stood in silent contemplation by the lake. Sylvia of the Iliade family, the mage gifted with the most exceptional talent in the world, and her mother, Cielia—fragments of memories involving them still lingered in my mind.

"Primien, I was the one who took Cielia's life," I declared.

"Yes, Professor, but it does not mean you must share the same fate."

I nodded in response and said, "Certainly not. However..."

A sudden, sharp pain surged through my temple, and the voice of Cielia—a woman I had never met—resonated in my mind.

"Deculein, you haven’t done anything wrong. Please, don’t be so harsh on yourself..."

The voice, soft and kind-hearted, seemed to comfort the very man who was strangling her, assuring him that he wasn’t at fault. It was a kindness so unsettling, it felt almost unreal.

"... It seems I cannot help but feel a touch of pity for that poor child," I said.

"And yet, that poor child may very well be the one to bring about your death, Professor."

I shook my head and asked, "Would the child gain any happiness from ending my life?"

"That's a rather sentimental question to hear from you, Professor," Primien remarked.

I turned to look at Primien. Her expression stayed as composed as ever, but there was a clear hint of disapproval in her eyes.

"It’s just a thought. I question whether she could really go through life driven solely by hatred for me."

"Well, if someone didn’t despise the man who killed their mother, they’d be a total freak—or rather, certainly not normal."

"Hmm, indeed it would."

For Deculein, the idea of being wounded simply didn’t apply. It didn’t matter how much someone loathed me, even if they were consumed by the desire to see me dead—I remained indifferent. In this world, no one could leave a mark on my unbreakable pride. That was why Deculein wore the title of villain so easily.

I allowed a faint smile to touch my lips and said, "Let Sylvia be. Her anger is aimed at me alone, so there is no need for you to endanger yourselves by provoking her further."

Sidestepping conflict and making excuses simply went against my nature. If Sylvia's hatred toward me became the catalyst for her growth, then it could only benefit the world. In that case, nothing would be lost.

Primien fell silent, not out of any emotion sparked by my words, but because snow was beginning to fall along the lakeside. She lifted her head to the sky, her expression tinged with surprise as the unexpected flakes drifted down.

"Hmm? Snowfall in this place? I was under the impression it couldn’t happen here," Primien said.

It was true—the island’s climate stayed temperate year-round, leaving no room for snowfall... but then, a forgotten phrase stirred in my mind.

"Hold on," I murmured, reaching for the book I had placed beside the chair. I flipped through its pages until I found the one I was looking for.

... As the mage fished by the lake's edge, he found himself unexpectedly confessing to the visitor who had appeared without warning. And then, impossibly, snow began to drift down upon the lake—where no snow had ever fallen before.

I glanced around, but aside from Primien, the place was completely deserted.

"Primien."

"Yes?"

I held the book out toward her and asked, "Have you happened to read this?"

Primien glanced at the book's cover, Blue Eyes, gave a nod, and said, "Yes, it's quite popular in the Ministry of Public Safety's library. We’ve added twenty copies to the collection due to its high demand."

***

?Would the child gain any happiness from ending my life??

Sylvia listened to Deculein’s voice, the words drifting on the wind from afar as thoughts stirred within her.

?It’s just a thought. I question whether she could really go through life driven solely by hatred for me.?

I hate you. I despise you. I hold you responsible for everything. But if I were to end your life, what purpose would remain in mine? Sylvia thought.

?Well, if someone didn’t despise the man who killed their mother, they’d be a total freak—or rather, certainly not normal.?

?Hmm, indeed it would.?

When she said I intended to kill you, why did you just smile in response?

?Let Sylvia be. Her anger is aimed at me alone, so there is no need for you to endanger yourselves by provoking her further.?

"... Why?" Sylvia murmured, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

But on the empty island, there was no reply, only the restless wind swirling aimlessly. Sylvia clenched her jaw and forced herself upright. Simply watching from afar would never quench the fire burning within her or still her racing heart. The answers she craved could be found only with Deculein.

"Sylvia, what exactly are you doing?" Idnik asked, glancing over from where she had been practicing magic nearby.

Without even glancing in Idnik's direction, Sylvia secured the parachute to her back.

"Hey, I asked you what you’re planning to do," Idnik repeated.

Sylvia didn’t respond. She tapped the ground softly with her toes, as if testing the earth beneath her, getting ready to jump.

"Fine, have it your way," Idnik said, choosing not to push the matter any further.

Sylvia had long surpassed the rank of Monarch, even exceeding Deculein’s level. Now, she was well on her way to becoming the youngest Ethereal in history. There was no point in coddling her like a child standing by the water's edge.

"Make sure you don’t end up dead."

"Alright," Sylvia finally responded, then sprang off the island.

One thought alone filled her mind.

... I will come to you and ask what I need to know.