Chapter 67: The Wicked Magic
Elias sat in the leather chair of the boutique's lounge, silently enduring the wordless pressure of Carlile's gaze.
Ever since Flamme and Frieren had gone upstairs to try on their gowns, the woman had been seated opposite him—eyes half-lidded, expression unreadable—staring at him for a full twenty minutes without a word.
Only when she suddenly flicked her tongue like a serpent—
Elias raised a brow at last, unable to hold back.
"Lady Carlile, what exactly is that expression supposed to mean?
I don't recall having offended you since the tournament."
"Can't a woman be curious?"
Carlile crossed her long legs with lazy elegance, reclining back in the chair.
Her fox-sharp eyes slid over him again and again, equal parts provocation and fascination.
"Elias, I must admit—out of all the men I've met, you're… the strangest.
Reserved. Powerful. Cold. Cruel. As though you feel nothing at all."
"That only makes me want to peek inside and see what kind of mind lies beneath."
"You know that's impossible."
Elias' voice remained steady, detached.
The Mental Seal Art—a barrier around the mind—rendered Carlile's enchantment magic ineffective the moment she'd tried.
"…Yes. I know."
Her gaze lowered to the marble tiles, disappointment flickering across her features.
"In all my years, I've never met a man who would willingly use magic to shut away his own emotions."
"Impressive from a combat standpoint…
but when it comes to living as a human being…"
"Elias, you didn't even notice, did you?
Flamme's… misunderstanding, just now."
Carlile slowly lifted her eyes—only to meet his empty, still gaze head-on.
A gaze calm and deadened, like the surface of a lake untouched by wind.
For a moment, she almost laughed.
Not only was her magic meaningless—
even conversation felt futile.
She had to accept it—
Before her stood a man she could not decipher, not with charm, nor sight, nor instinct.
"…Forget it."
"Other people's feelings… I'm only a bystander. I've no reason to interfere."
With a soft sigh, Carlile drew out a slim blue cigarette case, placed a cigarette between her lips, and lit it.
She inhaled, leaned back, and exhaled toward the window—white smoke curling like a quiet confession.
Elias said nothing.
He merely watched.
What has this woman been muttering about all this time…?
Ten more minutes slipped by before footsteps finally echoed down from the upper floor.
He turned his head.
Descending the spiral staircase was a figure in sea-green—
and for a moment, Elias wondered if the dressmaker had matched the gown to the color of her eyes…
Flamme stepped forward in her gown, her movements poised and elegant, stopping right in front of him.
"Elias… what do you think?"
Elias looked her up and down for a few seconds.
"…It is, indeed, a dress."
"—And?"
(≖≖)…(≖≖)
The two of them locked into a silent standoff.
From the opposite chair, Carlile wore a look of utter despair.
A cautious woman testing the waters… and a man completely tone-deaf.
Can these two really work?
She sighed inwardly. After exhaling the last wisp of smoke, she extinguished it with magic.
…This is unbearable to watch.
Decisively, she stood up, moved to Flamme's side, and examined the gown carefully before turning to Elias.
"A teal strapless dress. The smooth fabric clings to her figure, revealing her graceful shoulders and neckline. The sequins catch the light like mermaid scales, shimmering softly."
"Elias, you could at least say something like 'beautiful' or 'pretty.'"
Only then did Elias nod.
"It does align with the common human definition of beauty."
"But compared to the dress itself, I'm more curious about…"
His gaze settled on the golden ornament at Flamme's waist.
"—It's a flower field."
Before he could finish, Flamme smiled brightly, answering at once.
"I asked Lady Anna to add it specially. It might be unnecessary, but…"
"I like flower fields. And I like magic that makes flower fields bloom."
Elias froze for a brief moment.
In her smiling eyes, he seemed to glimpse a vast field of flowers—
petals of countless colors lifted by a gentle breeze, fluttering like butterflies.
A grand mage who had spent her life treading blood-soaked battlefields, standing atop ruins and corpses—
Yet what she longed for was something as unreal and beautiful as a heavenly flower field.
Still…
Magic that creates flower fields…
From any perspective, it was a spell so simple it almost bordered on dull.
Just then, bouncing footsteps echoed down the stairs, snapping Elias out of his thoughts.
"—Ta-da~!"
Frieren made a radiant entrance in a red-and-white, star-speckled princess dress.
With her restless energy, she looked like a birthday cake brought to life by magic.
"So? Don't I look like a legendary princess~?"
The moment she finished speaking, Flamme, Carlile, and Anna all lit up.
The three women wore identical expressions of fondness, showering her with praise—cute, beautiful, adorable.
Only Elias remained expressionless.
"Flamme, I wanted to ask this from the beginning—why do we have to bring that one along to the Full Moon Ball?"
Frieren: (งᵒ̌皿ᵒ̌)ง⁼³₌₃
"What did you just say, Elias?!"
"So you were planning to ditch me and go eat and drink all by yourself?!"
"That's awful! I never should've expected anything from an evil—"
She suddenly realized something was wrong and clamped her mouth shut.
But it was already too late.
Carlile and Anna's expressions froze solid.
Their minds began racing.
'Evil—'
…What was supposed to come next?
Wait—could it be—
"—Evil mage!"
Frieren blurted out hastily, patching it up on the spot and forcefully dragging their thoughts back on track.
Seeing the suspicion fade from their faces, Frieren sighed in relief.
That was close…
She'd gotten too used to calling Elias a demon—almost blew his cover.
Flamme shook her head with a sigh.
"Elias, can you really bear the consequences of leaving Frieren alone?"
"…Fair point."
Elias glanced at her.
The reckless, sharp-tongued, impulse-driven, extravagantly spending white-haired elf.
If he didn't keep her close, she'd probably leave behind a bill longer than her lifespan.
"…Fine. Frieren, when the ball comes, you'd better behave yourself."
---
After the three of them left, Carlile and Anna exchanged glances.
"Senior Sister… that line Frieren didn't finish earlier…"
"You noticed it too?"
"At first, I only thought Elias was cold—like something without emotions. But now…"
"But Junior Sister, he has no demonic traits. We didn't sense any malice, and there's a Grand Mage beside him."
"That's true. With Flamme's strength, if Elias were a demon, she'd have seen through him instantly—and killed him on the spot."
Carlile lit another cigarette.
"Still, we should remain cautious. It could be a mental art far beyond ours."
"After all… our master Isabelle died in the paradise of one of the Seven Sages of Destruction—Grausam of Miraculous."
She exhaled slowly.
"…Let's hope I'm just overthinking things."
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