A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 217

Chapter 217: Outing (3)

In the Imperial Palace’s Hall of Learning, Sophien examined the scattered documents spread across the desk. Every one of them was part of the Deculein File, provided by the Intelligence Agency.

"The Empire’s Intelligence Agency is absolutely remarkable..." Ahan muttered in admiration.

"It’s basic intelligence work—monitoring and investigating the Empire’s nobles. To them, Deculein is just as big a piece on the board as Zeit," Sophien replied, seeming uninterested.

"Oh, I see. Then I assume his records have been under investigation for some time?"

“Indeed.”

"Your Majesty, I hear the professor is arriving with a gift today. Has word of this reached you?"

"I’ve heard..." Sophien muttered, holding her pipe between her lips as she lit the tobacco. After taking a few slow puffs and exhaling wisps of smoke, she coughed and cleared her throat with a small grunt.

“... Ahem.”

It was, in its own way, an attempt to understand her father.

"I cannot begin to understand why the late Emperor found pleasure in this."

The late Emperor, Sophien’s father, was regarded by his officials as a benevolent ruler who upheld theocracy and harmony. Yet his pastimes—fishing, smoking, and hunting—held no appeal for her. Perhaps centuries of regression had worn away such indulgences, or perhaps she had never inherited his taste for them.

"With good company, the experience would be far more enjoyable, Your Majesty," Ahan replied.

"Are you suggesting I should keep someone filling the air with smoke in my presence?" Sophien replied with a scoff.

"Oh... That was not my meaning, Your Majesty. But perhaps hunting or fishing—"

"That is enough. One may know a hundred paths of water, yet the ways of people remain ever uncertain—even if that person is my own father," Sophien replied, setting down her pipe and opening the Deculein file.

... Once recognized as a prodigy from childhood, his growth gradually slowed with time, bringing him closer to the risk of mediocrity—until he began to demonstrate exceptional theoretical insight.

The document contained the Intelligence Agency’s full investigation into Deculein’s history. The key terms were prodigy, the limits of talent, entering the Mage Tower, and exceptional theoretical insight.

Appointed as a professor on the merit of his theories. However, numerous allegations suggest that Deculein’s academic papers were not his own, but ideas appropriated from others. Multiple reports were filed by insiders within the Mage Tower, yet all were ultimately dismissed.

Professor appointment, academic misconduct, insider reports.

Secretly engaged but later bereaved, with suspicions of involvement from the Letter of Fortune, he has since made an annual visit to the grave on the day of remembrance of her passing.

Sophien’s eyes remained for a moment on the passage about bereavement and the day of remembrance. It was something that felt out of place with Deculein—yet undeniably shaped the man he had become.

Re-engaged to the youngest daughter of Freyden. However, perhaps due to his past bereavement, he exhibits a tendency toward possessiveness over his fiancée.

Just as Sophien was about to turn the next page...

Knock, knock—

At the sound of a knock signaling the start of the instruction, Ahan rose to open the door, while Sophien tucked the file away into a drawer.

"You have arrived, Professor," Ahan said.

Beyond the threshold stood Deculein. It had been a while since they last met, yet as always, his expression remained calm and composed. Strangely enough, the sight of him was almost welcome.

"Sit," Sophien said.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Deculein replied, stepping forward and taking his seat.

Deculein’s attire and manners were as impeccable as ever, unchanged from the norm.

"I heard you went to Rohakan’s vineyard," Sophien stated, speaking directly.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Deculein replied, placing a blank sheet of paper on the desk.

"Did you presume that I would not hold you accountable for doing so?"

“No, Your Majesty.”

"Very well. When you killed Rohakan, what did you speak of with him?"

Deculein gave no response. Only the clatter of pens and a mana stone being set on the desk broke the silence.

"It seems your former fiancée’s day of remembrance is approaching," Sophien said, annoyance creeping into her voice at his silence.

At that, Deculein raised his eyes to meet Sophien’s, and she did not look away.

“Your Majesty.”

In an instant, the air turned frigid—a quiet, unfamiliar weight from a side of him never before seen.

"That matter is unrelated to the topic of our lesson," Deculein said.

Even he has a weakness that cannot be touched, Sophien thought.

"How arrogant... Then, what of Rohakan?" Sophien said, swallowing the laughter that was almost slipping from her lips.

"That, too, is an irrelevant topic to the matter at hand."

"Haha," Sophien murmured, a smile escaped her lips.

Deculein, always so composed, bristled with an uncharacteristic sharpness today. Yet rather than seeming arrogance, he was more like a hedgehog—prickly, yet almost endearing.

"I’ll allow it since this side of you is new. But you can’t keep it hidden forever, can you?" Sophien asked, resting her chin on her hand as she studied Deculein, searching his face for the slightest hint of emotion.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Deculein replied, nodding. "By tradition, Your Majesty’s instruction lasts only a year. I have no intention of breaking that custom. However, due to various incidents—and Your Majesty’s lethargy—many sessions have been left overdue."

"It is not lethargy but the weight of duty."

"If Your Majesty faithfully completes the remaining instructions and attends to all that has been delayed, then..."

Deculein paused for a moment before placing a long, unidentified rod on the desk. Veiled in black cloth, its true form remained unknown.

“I will answer every question Your Majesty wishes to ask."

Sophien narrowed her eyes, glancing between Deculein and the rod before letting out a scoff and, with a slight nod, replying, "Very well. I accept. Now, what is this?"

"It is an instrument for today's instruction."

“For today’s instruction?”

"Yes, Your Majesty," Deculein said as he pulled away the black cloth.

Whoosh—

And beneath the black cloth, the revealed object was...

"A fishing rod?" Sophien muttered, a slight furrow forming between her brows.

***

We were fishing at a private lake, nearly the size of a river, specially prepared by Crebaim, the late Emperor. Seated on a small chair, we stared blankly at the water’s surface, watching the fishing line ripple in the gentle flow.

"... This is instruction?" Sophien asked, disbelief coloring her tone as about fifteen minutes passed.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Fishing and magic share certain similarities—both require a clear state of mind and the patience to wait without rushing," I replied.

Sophien remained silent.

"Your Majesty's runic language has stagnated. But this is not a matter of talent or skill."

I had taught Sophien everything I knew about the runic language. At the very least, the knowledge itself had been thoroughly passed on. The foundation—the hardware—was perfectly assembled, and now, it was time to implement the software.

"Therefore, I will guide Your Majesty in the essence of a clear state of mind—the grace of tranquility."

Clunk—

Without a word, Sophien set down the fishing rod, brushed off her clothes, and rose to her feet, ready to leave.

"Have we ever cast our lines together before?" I asked.

At that moment, Sophien's steps paused, and she slowly turned back toward me.

"... What do you mean by that?" Sophien asked, her eyes widening as she looked down at me, sensing a deeper meaning in my words.

A breeze swept in, sending ripples across the still lake as the fishing rod trembled.

"I am merely asking, Your Majesty, nothing more."

"For a mere question, your phrasing is rather unusual."

I remained silent.

"No, that is not a question one asks without reason. You..."

Sophien's words trailed off there, left unfinished.

"Your Majesty, in Rohakan’s vineyard, I saw fragments of a memory—one that does not belong to me. And within it, I was with you," I said, looking out over the lake.

Sophien remained silent.

"I seek to reclaim that memory."

The vineyard of Rohakan had revealed a glimpse of another worldline. But if I could not recall it myself, it held no meaning. This instruction was meant for Sophien—but it was just as much for me.

"And for that, I will need Your Majesty’s assistance."

Sophien remained silent, the air so still that even the sound of her breathing had disappeared.

I raised my eyes to Sophien, her tightly pressed lips trembling, and in her crimson eyes, there was my reflection. It was a rare moment of unease—no, it was a side of Sophien I had never seen before.

"I will reclaim that memory—no matter what," I concluded.

Sophien lowered her eyes, her expression stripped of all sovereignty.

"... So, all that remains is to wait for the fish to take the bait?" Sophien muttered, sinking back into her chair.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Let us set the quota at thirty-three."

Sophien gripped the fishing rod once more, and I watched it in silence.

What she held was the World Tree Staff of Murkan. Even though she possessed the keenest magical perception of anyone else on this continent, Sophien had yet to recognize its true nature—for a reason. The moment it left Rohakan’s hands, the staff had bound itself.

"Your Majesty, that fishing rod is my humble gift to you," I said.

Right now, the Staff of Murkan was nothing more than an ordinary rod. So, using Ductility, I reshaped it into a fishing rod. This was the second purpose of this instruction—to delicately establish an unconscious bond between Sophien and the staff, guiding her to naturally become its third master.

"... It seems you've placed some sort of trick on this fishing rod—"

Creeeeak—

“... Oh.”

"Tch. Let go," Sophien said, pushing me aside as she straightened herself, then gripping the fishing rod once more with her eyes locked on the water. "Damned fish. I’ve figured out how to catch you. My hands remember the feel of it now. This won’t happen a second time."

"Hmm," Sophien murmured, placing a hand over her heart. Its beat remained unchanged, its rhythm as slow as ever—like that of someone standing at death’s door.

“Sophien, you will come to love Deculein.”

Rohakan, that Black Beast, was after this all along? Sophien thought.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Ahan replied, bowing without turning her back, then stepping away and leaving the chamber. _{fгeewebnovёl.com}

“Wow! I’d love to sit in on the admissions briefings for the Business and Medical departments too, I mean, really~” Maho said, her eyes sparkling as she took in her surroundings.

With curiosity like that, it’s only a matter of time before she gets herself into danger again, Charlotte thought, releasing a quiet sigh.