Winton didn't know what to say.
Shame gripped his chest like a vice, heavier than the chest of gold he carried in his arms.
He, a man born and raised in Hohenburg, a son of its soil, could not even bring himself to part with half of his life's savings for the sake of building up his homeland. All his life, he had clung to wealth as a safeguard against uncertainty, hiding behind caution and compromise.
And yet—this outsider, this newly appointed Director who had set foot in Hohenburg barely a month ago, had already done what he could not. Lady Aura had emptied her own savings, ten years of untouched fortune, and poured it without hesitation into Hohenburg's magical education.
It was money she had gone without using for herself. A treasure hoarded for over a decade, given away in an instant.
Winton's throat tightened. He clutched the chest of gold so hard that the edge of the lid bit into his palms. Just before he mounted the carriage that would take him back into the city, a wave of disgust for himself surged up uncontrollably. With a sudden, violent motion, he struck his own cheek—hard.
The sound cracked through the street.
"I am truly a piece of shit!" he shouted, startling a few bystanders.
"Lady Aura has given her all for Hohenburg, exhausting her fortune to support magical education."
"And I—" His voice trembled as he spoke, tears already blurring his vision. "I was still scheming with the nobles to trip her up! Thinking only of my own gain! I even forgot the purpose that once burned in me when I first joined the Magic Association!"
"I even went so far as to doubt Lady Aura! To suspect she was tricking me with an empty account!"
"How could someone so selfless, such a benefactor, ever deliberately fool us?"
"I am truly unworthy of being human! I am even worse than the selfish and despicable demons!"
"I don't deserve to live as a human!!"
Winton's sobs spilled into the open street, raw and unrestrained. Passersby slowed their steps. Some whispered, others frowned, but all watched as the middle-aged official wept with the abandon of a broken man.
Minutes or perhaps an eternity passed before his breathing steadied. Slowly, he wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, streaking it with dirt and salt. His eyes, once clouded with self-interest and fear, now glimmered with a clarity he had not felt in decades.
He straightened his back and stepped onto the carriage. Though already past fifty, in his chest flared once more the fire of youthful resolve.
In the past, he had clung to the nobles because there was no other way.
But now... now there was a Director who dared to risk everything, who stood alone against Hohenburg's corrupt upper class, fearless and unyielding.
Then he, Winton, too, could sharpen himself into a sword.
He would follow this woman. He would lend his life, his skill, his resolve to her cause.
For the first time in years, Winton felt as though the air above Hohenburg might one day clear, the choking fog of corruption scattered by sunlight.
With chest high and footsteps steady, he boarded the carriage. His resolve was set.
He would fight for Lady Aura!! And together, they would bring back the clear skies Hohenburg had long forgotten.
---------------
That same night, in Hohenburg, at Graf Byron's estate.
Byron sat in his study, going over the accounts of his various shops.
Suddenly, a knock came at the door. A servant entered, bringing a letter.
Byron frowned, glancing at the window—the night was already deep.
Who would choose such a late hour to deliver a letter?
Unlike Graf Konrad, Byron did not associate with shady bandits or wandering mages.
His dealings with nobles and officials were always done openly, with money paving the way—there was nothing he could not settle with gold. A reply at this hour... was it a rejection?
Was the money he sent not enough?
"What letter is this?"
"It's from Finance Officer Winton of the Magic Association."
"Ah, then the matter I asked him to handle went through!"
"No… it seems Finance Officer Winton intends to sever ties with you."
"What do you mean?"
"Lord Winton said he is ashamed of himself and cannot accept your money any longer. He even returned all the gems you gave him before."
"Bring me the letter."
Graf Byron took it from the servant, broke the seal, and read it carefully.
In it, Winton detailed how the new Director had directed all donations toward rebuilding the academy, even donating more than a decade's worth of her own wages—and that from today onward, he would no longer be visiting Graf Byron.
Byron furrowed his brow and carefully put the letter away.
Winton's stance was crystal clear—firm and unwavering.
No matter how much money Byron spent to bribe him, or how sweetly he spoke, it was unlikely he'd get a response anymore.
"Who on earth is this new Director?"
"Neither power nor money can sway her. Is she truly some kind of saint?"
"No… even saints have desires. She's practically inhuman!"
Byron paced back and forth in his study, thoughts churning.
At Graf Konrad's banquet, this new Director had boldly fought without fear, already leaving many nobles wary.
But a mage who merely defied authority was still manageable—no matter how powerful she was, she was still just one person. With the Kingdom and the Magic Association headquarters acting as checks and balances, even if she provoked a Great Mage, she couldn't possibly kill them all.
And as long as she didn't outright kill them, the nobles had countless ways to bypass a Magic Association Director—through seduction, bribery, manipulation of her subordinates.
In that way, no matter how powerful Aura was alone, she could never change Hohenburg's old order where the nobles controlled all young mages.
But now… her methods were formidable indeed. With the resolve to renounce both power and wealth, she invested her fortune into the Association, and in doing so, won the loyalty of all its members…
She had rejected the nobles' influence, gaining true authority.
She had given up her wealth to show her resolve, and gained the hearts of her subordinates.
If things continued this way, it would be disastrous.
The mages were already difficult to control, especially the younger generation. Noble supremacy had yet to fully take root among them. At the academy, the youths respected no one except teachers whose magic utterly surpassed them.
Rumors even spread that commoner-born mages had begun looking down on nobles, scorning their poor skills, and even flaunting their superiority over them!
Graf Byron felt an ill premonition—and he knew the other nobles did too.
This remote Hohenburg had been one of the last bastions of noble supremacy. In most imperial cities, the status of mages—trained by the Magic Association—was rising at frightening speed.
True, the war with the demons had made mages indispensable, raising their position naturally.
But looking forward, even if peace returned, it was inevitable that those "low-borns" who mastered a bit of magic would one day stand equal with nobles!
Already, in cities beyond Hohenburg, the trend was clear.
Even second-class mages dared disobey noble orders, relying on magic's uncanny power to defy knights' armor and blades!
The nobility everywhere, openly and in secret, resisted the Magic Association's growth. But because of the contract between the Kingdom's highest authority and the Association, they couldn't bar the Association's branches from establishing themselves in their cities.
They couldn't stop magic from spreading at its root.
So their only option was to monopolize resources—placing their own children into the Association, blocking common-born mages from advancing beyond backwaters like Hohenburg.
As long as no flood of high-ranking mages appeared, their noble supremacy would remain unshaken.
But this plan depended on the Association's corruption—on being able to insert noble lackeys into the branch and manipulate the selection process.
Now, with a Director who cut off noble interference and won the loyalty of her mages, the nobles had lost their leverage.
They could no longer manipulate the Association from within.
Now, it would come down to raw talent.
And in terms of raw magical talent—bloodlines meant nothing. It was random, unpredictable. Even marrying powerful mages into their families could not guarantee talent would be inherited.
"What are we supposed to do now?!"