Chapter 234
Jaha was thoroughly annoyed by the middle-aged man, who nodded to himself as if convinced. Just like his earlier remark about “non-mages,” it was clear he was an extreme magic supremacist.
No doubt he looked down not only on knights but anyone who wasn’t a mage. And yet, he seemed to harbor a competitive streak mixed with inferiority toward this Lex guy.
At any rate, her curiosity was satisfied—there was no reason to stay any longer. There was no enjoyment in conversing with someone so rude and mentally unstable.
Just as Jaha was about to excuse herself and leave—
“My guess is, Lex is the one who swapped the worlds. That bastard must’ve done something.”
The mage cut in first, ruining her timing.
“Ah.”
Jaha responded with a vague murmur. Though she wasn’t the least bit interested, she couldn’t react too dismissively for fear of provoking this erratic mage.
Since things had come to this, she decided to let his words go in one ear and out the other, occasionally offering soulless acknowledgments.
“That brat Lex… so arrogant… a bastard impossible to read…”
“Is that so?”
“He left the empire to see snowfall… then just… ice sculptures… preservation magic…”
“I see.”
“Surpassing the master, my foot… Acting like he mastered magic on his own… It was all thanks to a teacher like me…”
“Right.”
“…They praise him as if he appears once in a thousand years… Calling him ‘Emperor’ and all…”
“Then… Huh?”
Jaha, who had been half-heartedly responding, suddenly snapped to attention. An unexpected word had struck her ears.
“What did you just say?”
“What? Are you accusing me of disrespect toward the Emperor? Should a teacher grovel before his student?”
The mage flared up in anger, but Jaha couldn’t even muster a reply.
Emperor? The Emperor?
Her vision darkened, a chill crawling down her neck and spine. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, like a patient with Parkinson’s—or like the involuntary twitching of an eyelid from magnesium deficiency. No matter how hard she tried to steady herself, the shaking wouldn’t stop.
Struggling to stay composed, she mentally replayed the mage’s words. She hadn’t paid close attention, but at the very least, she grasped two things: the man named Lex was the Emperor, and the mage before her was his teacher.
Jaha gripped the table. Her legs wobbled so badly she could barely stand on her own.
Pathetic. I’m a mess, and I haven’t even faced him directly. She wanted to scream at her own weakness. But—but… That man is my living nightmare.
Fear. Loathing. Shame.
An inescapable chain. A bottomless pit of self-disgust. A mirror she never wanted to face in this lifetime.
How can I stay composed? How, when I don’t have a heart of steel?
Revenge had always been impossible. Someone as ordinary as her—no extraordinary talent, no courage—could only flee from the Emperor’s shadow.
Justice is a privilege for the chosen. And it was never granted to me.
People are not equal.
And she had learned that truth in the most brutal way.
—imagine a hero destined to defeat the Demon King and an ordinary civilian both ingest the same poison, but there’s only one dose of antidote. Who would you save? Be honest—wouldn’t you prioritize the former?
A voice like an awl drilling into her skull.
No hint of age, no trace of gender—just a resonant echo, as if descending from some unfathomable height.
—Equal worth for all humans? Equal value for every life? You don’t truly believe that either, do you?
The voice wasn’t unpleasant to listen to—no, it was almost mystically beautiful, the kind that made you think, “Is this what divine harmony sounds like?” Yet for some reason, it churned her stomach, rising bile burning her throat. A violent revulsion twisted her insides, as if her organs were writhing in protest.
I know. I know already.
I get it, so stop lecturing me. Shut up.
You wretched excuse for a god—not even worth calling one!
“W-What’s wrong? What happened?”
The mage flinched, bewildered by Jaha’s sudden state—her white-knuckled grip on the table, her trembling, the sweat pouring like rain down her pallid face. Her unfocused eyes alone were enough to signal something was terribly wrong.
“Are you ill? Should I take you to a physician? Or… the temple?”
A physician was one thing, but suggesting the temple was, for him, an act of considerable generosity. No mage in this world liked priests. He himself hadn’t set foot near a temple in over a decade. Had she not been fine just moments ago, he wouldn’t have even offered.
“I hate the temple!”
The woman gasped, as if on the verge of collapse, her voice a raw scream. The sheer force of her refusal made the mage recoil.
“Those bastards—disgusting, just like the god they worship.”
Every word dripped with such venomous hatred and scorn that it could’ve chilled the blood of anyone listening, regardless of their allegiances.
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