Chapter Thirteen: The Murderer Was Myself All Along

The aroma of Earl Grey tea lingered softly at the tip of the nose.
A warm, mellow liquid slid down the throat, leaving a gentle, lasting sweetness. Paired with freshly toasted bread, it slowly dissolved the sweetness within.
On Lac’s face, a faint relaxation appeared.
All these years, he had racked his brains trying to eliminate Mino, his nerves perpetually taut—this was the first time he truly enjoyed afternoon tea.
It was foreseeable that both the saintess and the prince were mentally distraught over Mino’s capture… word had it that Prince Ota had broken down into madness and tears just days ago.
In this situation, as long as he completed the magical array in his notes and, with the help of the Round Tower, controlled the next chosen hero, the kingdom’s future would be in his hands.
The smile on Lac’s lips could no longer be contained.
He finished his afternoon tea with a smile.
He strolled back to the room atop the Round Tower, still smiling.
He sat down before the desk, opened the drawer, and reached inside with a smile.
His hand met only empty air.
The smile vanished.
Lac raised an eyebrow and tried to keep his voice calm: “Hmm, it’s not here. Perhaps… it’s just a lapse in my memory.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he stood up and briskly walked to the bookshelf by the wall, pulling down every book stuffed on it one by one… half an hour later, a small mountain of books was piled on the floor. Looking at the now empty shelf, Lac smiled again:
“Come to think of it, I do have a habit of carrying things with me.”
No longer hesitating, he began removing his ornate mage robes and their linings piece by piece, until only a thin, chilly long shirt remained. Then he remembered… mages don’t have pockets.
Patting his head, Lac chuckled and shook his head:
“Let’s take a step back—what if I just saw it wrong?”
He returned confidently to the desk and pulled open the drawer once more.
Inside, only a small pile of unremarkable ashes lay at the center…
Gone… gone…
Lac stepped back two paces, clutching his chest sharply. The familiar symptoms of a heart attack twisted his face in agony.
“My notes? My huge notebook?” Lac muttered to himself, disbelief heavy in his voice.
“Darkness,” emerging from within him, gazed silently at the ashes in the drawer for a moment before speaking: “I sense… traces of self-destruction.”
Lac’s heart clenched fiercely, as if forced to confront a terrifying reality.
The self-destruct spell was known only to him and Mino—could it be that the “dead” Mino was still attacking him?!
Lac—terror.jpg!!!
“That’s impossible,” Darkness said grimly. “Your body is saturated with dark magic. If there were any pure holy power nearby, you would have sensed it without fail!”
“Oh, I understand now.” After a long pause, Lac seemed to grasp something and nodded slowly:

Eliminating all impossibilities, the remaining option—no matter how hard to believe—had to be the truth.
“So this means… all of this was done by me.”
“Ah?”
“Since only Mino and I knew the self-destruct spell, and only I am inside the Round Tower, the one who destroyed the notes… must have been me.”
“Yes, that’s right, only that makes sense…”
Lac smiled and tilted his head back, seeming to slowly accept everything.
Then, his vision darkened, and with a thud, he collapsed onto the floor.

…

“Your Highness, bad news—the Round Tower’s chief, Lac, has collapsed!”
In the garden, Kalia sat on the lawn, her white dress blooming like a flower as she wove an exquisite flower crown.
She was preparing for the upcoming hero’s memorial ceremony in a few days, while trying to release some of her inner emotions, so she wouldn’t appear too worn out before the public.
“What? Even Chief Lac… what happened?”
Kalia was slightly surprised.
The head maid shook her head:
“It’s said that Chief Lac’s spirit was unsettled. He’s been buried in magical research lately and overworked… it’s probably related to the hero Mino as well.”
Mino’s position was irreplaceable; as humanity’s strongest hero, he always fought on the front lines.
Suddenly losing such a powerful hero, Chief Lac must be deeply worried about the kingdom’s future.
“Sigh.” Kalia sighed.
She hadn’t expected that even with Mino gone, the impact on Brother Ota and Chief Lac would be so profound.
“If Mino knew this, I’m sure he’d be very moved…”

…

The Demon King’s Castle.
Fimm pushed a clattering little cart to the prison cell, the large bow tied behind her maid outfit swaying ever so slightly.
“Mino, I’m here to change your bedding.”
Dressed in a black-and-white maid dress, she gave a classic courtly bow. Her fluffy skirt concealed legs wrapped in white silk stockings tied with ribbons. Her pale skin was veiled in a faint translucent glow.
A flash of light appeared in the room as the holy sword Altotai descended, slashing toward Fimm, only to be caught by slender, pale fingers.
“Mino, practicing swordplay?”
Gently pushing the blade aside, Fimm tilted her head and looked past Altotai to Mino.
With his power sealed, neither the hero nor the holy sword could harm the Ninth Demon, Fimm.

“Yes.” Mino’s expression was calm.
“A hero is a hero; as soon as we leave the Demon King’s Castle, we become enemies. When that time comes, whether it’s you or the Demon King, I will fight with all my might!”
Fimm shook her head, as if stating a fact:
“The ‘Demon King’s power’ is very strong.”
“Mino, you can’t win.”
She came to Mino’s bedside, picked up the big blanket, and placed it in the cart before replacing the pillow and bedding with fresh, soft ones.
At the doorway, a flicker of hesitation crossed Fimm’s otherwise expressionless face. After a moment, she turned back and said to Mino:
“The strategist said, the operation failed.”
Mino did not lower his sword.
“I know.” He straightened his spine resolutely, as if proud: “No setback or hardship can bring down Chief Lac.”
“If the sky falls, Chief Lac will hold it up!”
Fimm watched Mino’s back, her dull pupils shining bright.
“Good, so cool.”
Behind her skirt, the large bow swayed gently.

…

Late at night.
On the bed, Mino opened his tightly shut eyes, showing no sign of sleepiness.
“Now is the time to sneak out—”
He picked up the holy sword from the corner and hung it at his waist. Feeling Mino’s firm grip, Altotai grew inexplicably tense:
“My lord, are we really going to escape? This is the Demon King’s Castle, the home of the Nine Great Demons and the Demon King himself. I think the prison might be safer than outside.”
“Idiot!” Mino scolded. “Have you forgotten that the two of us together severely wounded those eight demons? Now is the best chance. While they haven’t recovered, our chance to escape is greatest!”
“There are more than just those demons in the castle…” Altotai jumped nervously. “There is also the most terrifying Demon King!”
“Legend says no one has ever escaped from it, and everyone who’s seen its face has died!!!” Altotai shuddered. “A thousand years have passed, and no one capable of fighting it remains… no one knows what the Demon King looks like.”
“Besides, my lord, how do you plan to escape from the cell?”
“Hmph.” Mino snorted softly and revealed an iron object in his hand.
“The path to salvation lies within this—”