I Stole The Duke - Chapter 141

In the early morning mist that settled thick over the harbor, a lone figure stood motionless on the dock.

“…No way.”

The mages staring toward the port slowly widened their eyes in disbelief.

“Is that really…”

“It’s the Master. I’m sure of it.”

Even from a distance, there was no mistaking that long black robe. And even more so if the robe belonged to someone with green hair.

“Whoa… The Master actually came to greet us.”

Just a short while ago, the Master had seemed like a carefree troublemaker. But now—after seeing them off, he was waiting to welcome them back. Predicting his actions was impossible.

That guy… seriously…

Karahan couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The lazy fool hadn’t sent so much as a letter for over a month, and now he’d shown up at dawn to greet them. It was hard not to feel pleased.

Thunk—

A moment later, the frigate, towed in by a tugboat, docked with a thud as the movable gangplank was set in place.

“We’ve missed you, Master!”

“Well done, Regenti.”

“Master, the magic you’re using now… it’s…”

Regenti, nearly leaping off the gangplank to reach his Master, froze in place the moment he got close.

“…Why do I feel Sardis’s magical energy coming from you?”

The aura radiating from the Master’s body was unfamiliar—no, at this point, familiar. It was the same magical signature they’d felt at the ruins. Regenti couldn’t hide his shock.

“Be quiet and stand by.”

“…Yes, Master.”

The sharp chill in his voice shut Regenti’s mouth at once.

Did he always have this presence? And he looks stronger, too…

The Master silently watched the rest of the mages making their way down the gangplank.

“Ah… It’s been so long since I’ve set foot on land.”

“Ugh… why does the ground feel like it’s swaying?”

“Blugh—this must be land sickness!”

“I can’t believe the Master came all the way here to meet us. What an honor!”

The returning mages excitedly chattered as they stepped onto the dock, making their way toward the Master.

“…Wait. His magical energy…”

Even the less sensitive among them had developed a keener sense of magical resonance after their time at the ruins. And what they now sensed from the Master was nearly identical to the magic that pulsed from the Sardis site.

“……”

The Master didn’t speak again until all twenty mages had gathered before him.

“All present and accounted for.”

Regenti gave a stiff report, unconsciously standing at attention. The atmosphere made it feel necessary.

“Teacher.”

Then, the Master locked eyes with one person—and spoke a word that sent a shock through the entire group.

“You… what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Karahan’s expression twisted in displeasure.

“Wha…?!”

Nineteen jaws dropped in unison.

The pink-haired mage they had thought was the Master’s student… was actually his teacher?

They’d spent forty days on the same ship with him—how had no one realized?

If the Master was already extraordinary, then his teacher must be…

“I think I’m ready to leave the Tower now.”

“…Why?”

Karahan’s face darkened further. He had planned to settle in the Tower and research the newly uncovered monuments. But now his reckless student was stirring up trouble again.

“Because I can now use Sardis’s magic.”

“…What happened?”

Karahan crossed his arms and asked in a slow, deliberate tone. Judging from the energy coming off his student, he had a hunch—but he wanted to hear it directly.

“Would you like to see the artifact?”

The Master stepped forward and pulled a small dagger from his robe pocket.

“Let me see it.”

Karahan naturally extended his hand. The other mages, sensing the tension, instinctively took a few steps back. This wasn’t something to get in the middle of.

“Look at the magic circle engraved on the sheath.”

The Master unsheathed the dagger and handed the leather-bound scabbard to Karahan.

“There’s no—”

Thud—!

In that exact moment, the dagger drove straight into Karahan’s heart.

“Y-You… how could you… You…!”

Their eyes met.

And in that instant, Karahan understood everything. The expression staring back at him was cold—merciless. Not the eyes of someone taking a life for the first time.

…You’re not my disciple.

I’ll end your pain quickly.

Michalis twisted the blade embedded in Karahan’s heart. Mana surged—and with it, blood.

“Gah!”

Karahan tried to push him away, but Michalis didn’t budge an inch. His body was like a mountain. Time magic was impossible in this state. The only way to survive was a body-switch spell—but even that was slipping out of reach.

“Ba—!”

Karahan desperately tried to gather his scattering mana to cast a spell, but—

Flash—!

A white light burst from the dagger.

Then… what about… Olive… my disciple…?

A lifetime of mana scattered like mist, and the light in his eyes faded fast.

Michalis didn’t release the dagger until Karahan’s life was completely gone. Not until there was no chance—no whisper—of a spell escaping. He had to end it thoroughly.

“H-How…”

This was a matter between a teacher and his student. Who would dare interfere?

The nineteen high-ranking mages could do nothing but stand there in stunned silence, helpless as they watched a student murder his master.

“……”

Michalis slowly released the dagger and lowered Karahan’s body to the ground, his hands gentle and respectful.

One of the greatest archmages in existence had died—not in glory, but in quiet, ruthless betrayal.

Because if Michalis had tried to do it honorably, he would’ve lost everyone he cared about.

“…Perrow.”

Standing over the body of the slain mage, Michalis silently pointed to one person.

“…Y-Yes, Master.”

Time, frozen in shock, finally began to move again.

“From this moment on, you are the new Master of the Tower.”

“…Master.”

Michalis removed the Tower Master’s robe and handed it to Perrow.

“After this, don’t look for me again.”

With those final words—spoken like a warning to them all—he turned back to his fallen teacher.

“Master, wait! How could you do this?!”

Regenti, finally coming to his senses, started toward Michalis, but before he could reach him, the Master muttered a short incantation—and vanished along with the corpse.

“Wh-What just happened…?”

“There are traces of teleportation magic… It looks like Sardis magic.”

“What is Master Michalis thinking…?”

“He’s a time mage. We can’t possibly understand his intentions.”

The remaining nineteen mages stood in stunned silence. There was nothing else they could do.

“…Perhaps we’ve been too indifferent about the world outside the Tower.”

Both Michalis and his former master had come from beyond its walls. And now, even after so long, none of the others knew a thing about their history, their past, or where they’d truly come from.

“In accordance with the former Master’s wishes, I appoint Perrow as the new Tower Master. Does anyone object?”

“…I will follow the former Master’s will.”

Bit by bit, the magic of Sardis was beginning to surface in the world.

“Your Grace!”

In an empty coastal warehouse, a living lord and a dead mage suddenly appeared. Iadis had been pacing with anxiety, but only now could he finally breathe again.

“Bury him properly, with all the honors he’s due.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Michalis turned away, wiping the blood from his hands with a handkerchief.

“…I think I need to rest today.”

He had taken a life. Someone who hadn’t even committed a crime yet. Someone who merely might have been a threat. And he had done it in the most disgraceful, ruthless way possible.

The guilt, the unease—it clung to him like a second skin.

“Understood. I’ll adjust your schedule accordingly.”

“Good. See to the cleanup.”

Michalis deactivated his transformation magic, stepped out of the warehouse, and climbed onto his black warhorse.

Clip-clop, clip-clop…

The massive black steed thundered down the narrow cliffside road by the sea. But no matter how hard the wind hit him, Michalis still felt like the filth clinging to his soul refused to be shaken off.

“Make way! The Lord of Flencia approaches!”

The guards at the outer gate quickly recognized him from afar and cleared the path.

The horse galloped across the square without pause.

Snort!

After charging from the coastal warehouse all the way to the main keep, the horse exhaled heavy steam, its coat soaked in sweat.

“Take him. Give him cold water and let him rest.”

Michalis dismounted in one swift motion and strode toward Eliana’s office.

Eliana…

If he could just be wrapped in her clean, warm presence—maybe then this storm inside him would settle.

“…Ah.”

He stopped in front of her door. His hand, reaching out to knock, froze in place.

His hands were still dirty with blood. He couldn’t touch her like this.

“…Haa…”

With a heavy sigh, Michalis turned away.

Splash—!

Moments later, his bare body submerged itself in a tub of cold water.

“……”

He leaned back in the bath and closed his eyes—but the image of the archmage’s final expression burned vividly behind his lids. The sensation of the dagger in his hand… was still fresh.

How pathetic…

He couldn’t help but feel ridiculous. This wasn’t the first life he had taken.

From the moment he was born, Michalis had been burdened with things that had to be protected. And if that meant getting his hands dirty… then he would do it. A hundred times. A thousand times.

If peace came at the cost of his soul—so, be it.

“…Haa…”

He let himself sink deeper into the water.

Whatever filth he was carrying—he would leave it here.

“Michal?”

Late in the morning, close to noon, Eliana was reviewing documents in her office when an unexpected visitor arrived.

“You’re here awfully early—”

Before she could finish, Michalis strode across the room without a word and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“…Just let me stay like this for a moment.”

His cool arms wrapped around her gently—firmly, but not painfully.

“Michal… what happened?”

Eliana flinched at his ice-cold skin. It was like he’d just come out of an ice bath.

“I… killed a mage.”

Eliana, who had just returned the hug, froze.

“The thing you feared—it won’t happen now.”

“……”

Gratitude? Relief? Anger that he’d taken such a risk without even telling her? Eliana couldn’t say anything. Her throat locked up.

“Michal…”

“You don’t need to say anything. Just… be here.”

“…Okay.”

And so, the duke and duchess sat there in silence, holding each other for a long, long time.

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