Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor
Chapter 19

“I fully understand that I have neither a place to sleep nor food to eat.”

The salary he had received so far must have been confiscated under the name of compensation for damages. Beric was literally naked and destitute.

He managed to secure some food at the tavern he had previously scrounged from, but he couldn’t live like this for several days. Beric furrowed his eyebrows and glared at Ian.

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“Was it that noticeable?”

“Come to think of it, my body was like this every time I met you. I don’t know what it is, but it’d be better for you if you just confess the truth. I won’t fight in such a way.”

An inexplicable surge of emotion filled him. When he landed a punch, he almost lost his senses due to the euphoria. It certainly wasn’t a normal reaction. The only common factor in his two experiences was that blond brat.

“Hmm.” Ian chuckled leisurely and shook his head, conveying a slight sense of regret. “You have a good stance, but you’re slower than I thought.”

“What?”

Surprised by the unexpected remark, Beric was momentarily stunned. Ian crossed his arms and leaned against the door, tapping his cheek as if to suggest that Beric should think more carefully.

“The water I gave you when we first met wasn’t mine; it belonged to one of the trainees. And you didn’t refuse the jerky, did you?”

He hadn’t taken a sip of water aside from that. Beric’s face gradually turned into a look of confusion. He had come here half-certain of something.

“I can tell you what you’re curious about. But we need to make a promise first.”

Swoosh.

Ian’s eyes turned golden. However, unlike before, he didn’t channel any magic into Beric. He didn’t want things to get messy if Beric went wild like a lunatic.

“First, don’t pry into my personal affairs.”

“No, that’s it! This!”

When Beric jumped and shouted, the guards standing behind looked at him suspiciously. Ian’s face was turned away and not visible.

“And do not act rudely,” Ian warned Beric calmly. He had been lenient because he needed the power of the Magic Swordsman, but Beric had taken things too far. Given his nature, it seemed likely that he would act the same way in front of Dergha.

‘So that’s why a Magic Swordsman is precious?’

Rushing the royal edict to the point of sticking his neck out was a sign of a hothead. The still unhealed whip wound was proof of that.

Beric bit his lower lip and muttered, “…Is that all?”

“Lastly, I hope you’ll protect me from all kinds of danger. Then, I will make the power you had that day entirely yours. To avoid any misunderstanding, I should clarify that I merely drew out the power that was hidden within you.”

It seemed better to set the record straight, considering he appeared to dislike relying on external forces. Beric blinked his eyes in surprise.

“My power?”

“That’s the end of my proposal. If you agree—”

“I agree!”

“Please lower your voice.”

At Beric’s outcry, stating he had nothing more to think about, the guards began to look suspicious. They whispered to each other, discussing something.

“Being with me also includes crossing the border. I don’t know if I’ll need you when we return.”

“Return? Here?”

How could a tribute sold to Cheonrye return to Bratz? Even Beric knew that was impossible. Nevertheless, his answer was clear.

“What’s the big deal about crossing the border? I don’t have a home or family anyway.”

“Keep in mind that you might die.”

“I’d starve to death if I stayed here.”

Right. Even if he was about to die, he wouldn’t respect anyone.

Ian looked at the boy before him incredulously and chuckled. He was about to add a remark but decided against it. He thought that Beric had made some progress after receiving his many scoldings.

“So now tell me clearly.” Beric’s eyes shimmered with fervor. It was a simple desire for strength. Ian paused for a moment to choose easy words and asked, “Have you heard of a Magic Swordsman?”

“No.”

“How about magic?”

“That, either.”

“…..”

Both stared at each other in silence, finding the other strange.

Even in Ian’s time as emperor, there were cases of people who had no education. And this place was a rural village from over a hundred years ago. It might be natural for Beric, who had wandered the streets as an orphan, to be unaware of such things.

“Master Ian, we’ve been delayed too long.”

“It’s time for us to change shifts.”

As their conversation halted, the guards seized the opportunity to interject. Ian scratched his chin and made a request to Beric.

“I’ll call you soon, so wait for me.”

“Eh? What? Wait a minute.”

“Behave.”

He added the last sentence almost pleadingly. As the guards began to slowly close the large door, Beric rushed in as if to follow. He was blocked by a long spear and had to back off.

‘I’ve just told him to wait.’

How could he disobey the order immediately?

Ian had plenty to do already, and now he had one more thing to worry about. Sighing, Ian moved towards the detached building. The corridors were oddly empty, perhaps due to the inconvenient timing. It seemed all the servants had gone to rest after cleaning.

Knock knock.

“It’s Ian.”

Without waiting for a response, Ian opened the door.

He had expected the tutor to be waiting, but the room was completely empty. Judging by the coat, bag, and half-cooled tea cup left behind, he didn’t think the tutor had left.

“…Where did he go? Teacher?”

He wondered if the man had gone to the bathroom, but there was no sign of him. Ian leaned back on the couch, then suddenly looked over at the tutor’s bag.

‘Dergha attached him to me for surveillance. There must be some useful information.’

Ian rummaged through the tutor’s bag and examined the stack of papers. Most of it was reference material for classes.

The rest was a paper titled, “The Correlation between Desert Climate Changes and the Blister Sea”. In between, there was a journal that was published last year. Surprisingly, it was issued by Bariel University.

‘He did say he graduated from a university, so it was Bariel.’

It was plausible to guess why a genius among geniuses was in Bratz. ‘Desert’ refers to the main base of the Cheonrye tribe, and ‘Blister Sea’ is the sea at the edge of the desert, adjacent to the East.

Swish.

Despite searching to the bottom of the bag, there was nothing special. Ian neatly put the documents back and rummaged through the worn-out coat. Besides some trash in the pocket, it was clean.

“Hmm?”

Deep inside the sleeve, there was a designer label attached. It was the name of the person who designed and made the clothes, but the seal stamped next to it seemed familiar.

‘…It seems similar to the seal used by Sir Molrin.’

He traced each line with his fingertips, and it was much similar to Molrin’s hand gestures in his memory.

Then he noticed again, the journal from ‘Bariel University’. Since Bariel University is a national institution, wouldn’t it have many opportunities to connect with government people? Ian burst out laughing without realizing it.

‘So, Sir Molrin’s eyes and ears were the home tutor.’

It all made sense then. The servants wouldn’t know about the information like sending letters to the Cheonrye tribe. Ian sat on the sofa as if nothing had happened while tidying up the coat.

‘I wonder if the tutor knows that I’ve teamed up with Sir Molrin?’

If he was just an informant, there would be no need to inform him that far. And if he was more than that, then there would be another layer of surveillance on Ian.

Then.

Squeak.

“Master Ian?”

The tutor, who rushed in, froze when he saw Ian. His slightly sweaty and flushed face indicated that he had been up to something precarious.

In such cases, it’s usually a secret meeting, spying, or thievery. Given his bare appearance, it was likely spying.

“I had some business to attend to, so I was late. Where did you go?”

“I…I went to the bathroom.”

“But there’s a bathroom in the room.”

“Well, that is, um….” His eyes rolled around nervously.

Ian, seemingly satisfied, sat down at the desk. “I have to write a letter today. You’ve heard from my father, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I did. I’ve been informed about the contents, and I’ve already written it. You just need to copy it, Master Ian.”

The sound of a relieved sigh reached him. The tutor seemed thankful that Ian didn’t show much interest.

Perhaps he was so clumsy. Rather than thinking the tutor was planted as an informant, the hypothesis that the tutor turned out to be a distant relative seemed more plausible.

“Teacher, it seems like we’ll be late today. Should I contact your home? We could even have dinner, considering the awkward timing,” Ian asked to tease him.

Then, the teacher showed discomfort, wiping away his sweat. “It’s okay. There’s nobody waiting for me. I’ll eat when I get home.”

Single. A poor noble in his late thirties, struggling alone in a foreign land. His life devoted to research and its pursuits were clearly visible. When he was in the palace, there were a few people like him who occasionally showed remarkable results.

‘I can understand why he was unenthusiastic in class.’

He had to finish quickly and return to his research.

Even while copying the letters, Ian watched the teacher closely. He was checking if he was concealing anything, as his demeanor was somewhat odd.

Scratch, scratch.

The sound of parchment being scraped filled the quiet room. Ian thought quietly, ‘He seems to be attempting something under the directive of Molrin. But he would have been pressed for time to visit Dergha’s office.’

Ian’s room was on the third floor of the annex, and Dergha’s office was at the top of the main building. He wouldn’t have been able to visit there not knowing when his student would arrive. That means he must have attended to his business somewhere in the annex.

The first floor housed a makeshift kitchen, a bathroom used by the servants, and a storage room. The second floor was where the butler and the servants slept. From the third floor up, there were guest rooms and vacant rooms.

“The butler…”

Did he visit the butler’s room? Ian looked back at the teacher as he deliberately let the words slip. It seemed he had a knack for responding silently. His face hardened, becoming dark.

“The butler didn’t bring any snacks today. Aren’t you hungry?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Ian chuckled softly and continued writing the rest of the letter. From Molrin’s perspective, it was safer to keep multiple possibilities open.

If Ian failed, if he were to be found out by Dergha and be ruined, how would he cope with the aftermath? This tutor must have received some sort of instruction.

‘He must had some business with the butler right then.’

Master key? But it was rare for a house head to grant seal access to the butler. If the Count had entrusted him with control over the funds, that would have been different. But it didn’t seem likely considering Dergha’s character.

‘Then…’

There was no other way but to find out for himself.

As Ian skillfully copied the text, he stared at the teacher. For now, the man in front of him seemed oblivious to his alliance with Molrin.

The tutor was sweating profusely, restless.

In that case, there was no particular reason for Ian to reveal anything. The tutor, relieved by the sight of Ian’s smiling face, returned a stiff smile.

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