Chapter 55

"Mind-guiding magic? I can't use something like that. I've never even seen it in literature or heard it from anyone's mouth."

Fiarat stiffened her arms and pursed her lips, looking somewhat embarrassed.

Upon hearing those words, I could see her face turn pale.

The words I should say next wouldn't come out smoothly. I could feel my thoughts becoming slightly sluggish.

If what she said was true, the plan to win over the residents of the slums would crumble from the start, or rather, from the very foundation.

"…Hmm… The name might be different, but it's a magic that gently takes over people's consciousness with a graceful floral scent. Is there even a fragment of it in the back of your mind?"

During my travels, I had seen that fantastical scene.

She would make petals dance from her slender fingertips, sway the wind, and calm people caught in confusion. With that magic, I had once stopped a riot that was about to break out in the Galrist Kingdom.

I had assumed that with that magic, even people who had embraced apathy and resignation could regain some will.

I never expected that Fiarat, at this time, not only couldn't use the magic but didn't even recognize it.

"There isn't. Besides, you're being too optimistic. Magic that can influence people's thoughts isn't something you can easily get your hands on, and… well…"

Her black eyes averted, as if trying to escape.

Her slender fingers twirled, and her lips opened and closed repeatedly, as if searching for the right words. It was as if she was trying to figure out how to shape something difficult to express.

After a while, her eyes wandered, and finally, the words slipped out of her throat.

"Um… right now, I can't use magic… at least, not in a way that would oppose Galuamaria…"

The words fell awkwardly into the room. Her eyes glanced at me, as if gauging my reaction.

For a moment, the room fell silent, as if frozen. My eyes, fixed on Fiarat, couldn't blink.

Lalghd-Ang's voice, "Feh," slightly warmed the atmosphere.

"Ah… I see, yeah, that makes sense. It was strange. Without divine intervention, how did you save me from that dire situation?"

In other words, there must have been a deal with Helt Stanley, he implied.

Fiarat, still looking uncomfortable, nodded slightly, her eyes still wandering. She would occasionally glance at me, as if checking my reaction.

There was nothing to be done. This was an unavoidable situation. For Fiarat to save me alone from that situation would have been too convenient. Some kind of sacrifice was necessary. Rather, considering that I wasn't restrained and immobilized, it was a deal with considerable benefits.

I couldn't fully grasp Helt's intentions, but I was a bit curious about how his sense of justice had led him to make this judgment. Given the lizard's misconduct, it was likely that his actions had created some room for compromise.

Otherwise, there would be no reason for me to be able to scheme in the slums so freely.

"It's not like it's a bad thing. Then, we should move on to the next plan."

I said this, trying not to blame Fiarat or let my words be harsh. I didn't want to criticize her for doing her best in that situation.

Her black eyes, which had dimmed, seemed to regain some of their light. It would be too harsh to blame her for doing her best.

But despite the softness of my words, my heart was in turmoil. A clear sense of urgency was overflowing, creating one anxiety after another.

This is bad. Very bad. To be honest, I had completely relied on Fiarat's magic to persuade the residents of the slums.

Even if she couldn't use the flower magic, I had thought it would be possible to ignite people's hearts through the brilliance of the magic.

Meeting Fiarat's gaze, I glanced at Ang.

Her slightly twitching expression spoke volumes. It was as if she was asking, "Do you have any other plans?"

"…There are two options."

I raised two fingers in response to Ang's expression.

They were far from brilliant plans. In fact, they were questionable.

To hide my lack of confidence, I instinctively covered my mouth. Ang and Fiarat, with their lips tightly closed, looked at me.

*

"The first option is to give up on winning them over. In the short term, the key is to make the slums non-functional."

I held a chewed tobacco between my fingers, playing with it with my teeth. The two expectant gazes felt like they were piercing through me.

Ang, I'm sure, had already sensed this option. She must have already considered it as a last resort, but didn't choose it because of the long-term losses.

Leaning back in my chair, I said, protecting my side.

"In other words, we should make the slums our first target. It's a place with no proper defense or disaster awareness. It will burn well, and many will die. The entire slum will turn into a crematorium."

Ang's sharp eyes narrowed, while Fiarat's eyes widened in shock.

Of course. I wouldn't call it a desirable choice either. But I'm not in a position to preach about purity. My soul is already quite tainted.

In fact, I was well aware that my attempt to use the battlefield for my own advancement was far from the purity and righteousness preached by the Great Holy Church.

If there really is an afterlife, the angels would certainly not welcome me. But if God is telling me to live a pure life while being trampled on miserably, then I'd rather reject that hand and spit in his face.

"This is not a desirable option, Hero. Even if we succeed in bringing down Galuamaria, a city left in a dysfunctional state would be a problem."

Ang nodded, acknowledging it as a last resort. On the other hand, Fiarat blinked and pouted.

From the frown on her forehead, it was clear she was against this idea.

"Why don't we just change their hearts with words? A great general can transform even the most apathetic soldiers into strong warriors with a single word. Especially since you are quite eloquent."

Fiarat's tone had a hint of trying to hide her unease. She didn't want to reject the idea, but she didn't want to take that route either.

"Well… the second option is that. But it's a long shot. I understand their feelings. They're like the old me. A heart that has embraced resignation has no strength to grasp anything."

In fact, it might be better if Fiarat spoke.

If a beautiful foreign girl spoke, some might listen. Or even Ang. Given her interpersonal skills, it wouldn't be surprising if she had some impact.

But I can't.

"Fiarat, you seem to have a misunderstanding somewhere. You don't think words have the power to move people, do you?"

I sighed lightly. The flavor of the chewed tobacco spread through my lungs.

"Listen, words don't have power. What matters is not what is said, but who says it."

A great general can transform weak soldiers into strong ones with a single word. But it's not because the words are heavy. It's because they are his words that they carry weight.

What if an ordinary general said the same words? Even if the words and the tone were exactly the same, the soldiers would receive them differently.

So, words don't have power. Words can't change people, and they can't accomplish anything on their own. I know this all too well.

How many times have my supposedly correct words and undeniable logic been smeared with mud? How many times have I been falsely accused? How many times have I been forced to wear a false accusation?

No one listened to my supposedly correct words. No one wanted to hear the truth as I saw it.

Everyone listens more to those who look better. Yes, that's the norm now. Righteousness has no power.

I narrowed my eyes and slightly lowered my head. The pain creeping up from my side felt strangely dull.

"Then, even more so, you're the only one who can do it."

Just as the room felt heavy, Fiarat's voice was thrown into the air.

I slowly raised my head. Her eyes showed no scheming, just a pure question.

Her small lips opened again.

"I'm here because I heard your words, Lougis. I know it sounds foolish, even to me. Really. But there's nothing I can do. It's because deep down, I felt it was right."

Her cheeks flushed slightly, trembling.

What kind of joke is this? Who am I? Am I being praised now? By Fiarat La Borgograd, who refused to acknowledge not only my words but my very existence?

She took a step closer, her eyes meeting mine.

"I won't let you say that you can't do it because you lack the power. No, I won't let you. You won't end up as lead. I've decided to turn you into gold, even if I have to twist the world's logic."

Fiarat's eyes came close, the distance between us shrinking surprisingly. I could see my reflection clearly in her black eyes. We were so close that our breaths almost mingled.

Then, in a voice so low that only I could hear, Fiarat whispered.

—But if you want to run away, that's fine too. If that happens, I'll prepare a path for both of us.

She presented a third option.

It was a sweet voice that seemed to wrap around my pulsating heart, caressing my mental pillar and squeezing out my entire resisting heart.

Her small hand touched the wound. It wasn't magic. She was probably forbidden from interfering with me.

But strangely, no pain leaked from my side. There was only a warm sensation.