Chapter 196
It wasn’t baseless; Valen had been acting very suspicious lately. He didn’t openly summon Roseline, but without fail, he would run into her—even if from a distance—when she left the barracks in the morning or returned late at night. And each time, he would wink at her as if sending some secret signal.
She was partly to blame for naively dreaming after a single kiss, but he was also far from normal, acting like they were in some kind of romance and behaving so out of character.
Despite her displeasure at his change, her suspicion soon vanished. This was because of what Merrick had secretly relayed to her when he visited the healing tent yesterday afternoon:
‘He said you should not get too close to Lord Mür, as it bothers him.’
Since he was the kind of man who assumed every man in the empire had feelings for her, if this were his scheme, he wouldn’t have placed her in a team with a male Manifestor. The fact that she had to decipher his intentions based on such childish reasoning was disconcerting.
“Both of you, follow me.”
With a cold, hardened expression, Mür left the tent after finishing the healing session. This was already the third time today. The scene had become so familiar that the other experienced Manifestors cast sympathetic glances their way, including Schnitzel and Ruav.
“To think such incompetent Manifestors exist. The empire’s future looks bleak.”
Roseline and Malsen, who had been summoned to the side of the healing tent as usual, bowed their heads respectfully with their hands clasped, just like always. This posture, too, was learned through Mür’s training. He loved obedience dearly. Even compared to her experience with the knight order during the plague in her past life, Mür was certainly excessive. His relentless hounding of Malsen also seemed to stem from an inferiority complex born of his relatively low status.
“Why on earth have such team members been assigned under my command?”
That was exactly what Roseline and Malsen wanted to say. Why on earth did they have to end up with a team leader like this?
No, wait. If it were Schnitzel, she might have quit long ago, refusing to put up with it. Malsen also seemed to be reaching her limit. She had already grown quiet, and now she had stopped speaking altogether. Though they were together all day, the only time her voice could be heard was when Mür forced her to answer.
“You should be ashamed. There isn’t a single Manifestor anywhere in the empire, let alone on this battlefield, who would tolerate a fool who can’t even distinguish between protective magic and healing magic.”
Malsen’s slender, trembling shoulders were caught in the corner of Roseline’s vision. Why did those small shoulders bother her so much? Roseline, who had been glaring at the dirt ground, impulsively raised her head.
“My lady, please go inside first.”
Mür’s expression twisted menacingly. His eyes narrowed and his lips contorted, as if demanding how she, of all people, dared to give orders.
Malsen couldn’t move easily. Roseline wished she would just claw at that stick-thin man mercilessly, like in her past life when harsh words had been hurled at her. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say, and seeing Malsen being helplessly victimized like a weak animal was upsetting.
“If you want to keep hearing him call you a fool, you can stay.”
At Roseline’s added remark, Malsen, who had been hesitating indecisively, slowly turned around.
“Whose orders are you following right now? Know your place!”
Unable to stand the sight, Mür gritted his teeth and growled. Malsen, who had barely taken a step, froze in place.
“Go.”
Roseline spat out firmly, without even looking back. For a moment, Malsen hesitated, looking back and forth between the wide-eyed Mür and Roseline, who was staring right back at him. Then, spotting something in the distance, Malsen flinched in surprise and quickly disappeared, as if she had never been hesitating at all. Mür ground his teeth as he watched Malsen’s retreating back.
“Celodienne. Are you defying me now?”
His anger turned squarely on Roseline. He took a sharp step closer, jutting his chin out. He didn’t forget to boastfully remind her of battlefield discipline, military law, and, moreover, who was in charge of their practical evaluation. Perhaps her past self, desperate for a scholarship, would have cared, but to Roseline, who had already resolved to drop out, his words meant nothing.
“Hey, you. Sir.”
“‘Hey, you. Sir?'”
“I can’t very well call you ‘mister,’ can I?”
“You… You baron’s brat, how dare you!”
It was just as Mür, shaking with rage, began to raise his hand.
“Lower your hand.”
A cold voice wrapped around Mür’s wrist like a whip. Mür, who had frozen with his hand raised high in the air, jerked his head toward the sound.
“And lower your voice.”
It was Valen.
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