A moment later. Thick bandages were wrapped around an arm. Why Cyrus? The fact that Cider could mobilize only two mages grated on Esperanza's nerves.
'That was supposed to be the blood collection kit for me.'
To think that Cyrus would be the first to use the blood collection kit Cider had specially ordered for hygienic and clean blood drawing. Esperanza swallowed her complaint and pulled the bandage wrapped around Cyrus's arm tighter to secure it.
"Don't be a baby."
Cider said coldly, his gaze fixed on the enormous amount of blood in his hands, the 'mage's blood.' He seemed to be in an even worse mood than before. His words had thorns.
"We didn't even draw that much, did we? This measly amount can't even operate the entire machine."
The machine was more than half destroyed, and the operational range was even smaller than that. So the actual amount of magic power used would be less than a million torts.
Cider pulled a lever. The end of the giant machine began to move. That movement slowly spread throughout the entire warehouse. The vibration that shook the floor made even their heads sway.
"Isn't this going to collapse?"
The half-collapsed ceiling was vibrating along with the trembling machine parts, and the floor wasn't in good condition either. The cracked pillars also swayed. Whatever had caused this state was unknown, but if vibrations of this magnitude continued to be applied to a warehouse that was already precarious in its current state, it might really collapse.
While there was an inner wish for the ceiling and pillars to all collapse and destroy the machine completely, Cider moved forward to the machine and pulled the lever. The magic power that had been heating the entire analytical engine subsided. The vibration also slowly stopped. Stone fragments that had crumbled from the ceiling rolled at their feet.
After confirming that the magic power inside the machine was completely drained, Cider said to Cyrus as if showing off.
"Now. As you can see, the machine operates halfway, but the required magic power isn't even worth half a penny with a million torts. Are all your curiosities satisfied now?"
Since Cyrus had no idea that Cider had intended from the beginning to use him to operate this machine, he bowed his head, keenly aware that he had been unreasonable. While more blood drawing could somehow fill the magic power amount, the very idea of moving a broken machine was wrong to begin with.
"...Yes. That's sufficient."
"Then how about leaving my forest now? If I decide to cooperate, I'll naturally contact you."
However, Cider's face with its crookedly pulled-up corner of the mouth seemed to say, 'though that won't happen.' Cyrus looked back at Esperanza, unable to hide his anxious expression.
"Esperanza-nim. If the count refuses, we could look for other methods. The possibility is low, but it's not that there are no methods. I know the basic principles, and other magical engineers have eventually succeeded in reproducing the spacetime machine."
What Cider had said was true. Esperanza looked at Cyrus steadily and asked.
"Your words have changed?"
"For now, no other magical engineer besides Avondale is possible. But if given time... there are many magical engineers interested in this field."
"I'm fine."
Honestly, it wasn't that she had no interest. If Cider really refused like this, there was no way she wouldn't feel anxious about whether she'd be bound to this world. But she had already promised, and having promised, she had to keep it. She didn't want to break trust twice.
No matter what, Esperanza couldn't think that 'if we can't meet again, it's no different from dying.'
"If you change your mind, please contact me anytime. The bartender at 'The Mage's Pub' in Bellingham knows my location."
"What are you planning to do from now on?"
Instead of answering the question, Esperanza asked. It was a roundabout refusal, but Cyrus pretended not to know.
"For now, I'm thinking of going to Nine Holder. If I'm going to steal the Golden Claw that Daria has, I'll have to clash with her at some point."
When that time comes, we'll end up meeting again.
Cyrus bid farewell to both people and left surprisingly without lingering.
"Do you regret it?"
"What?"
Cider examined Esperanza with narrowed eyes, then shook his head. He knew he was being overly conscious himself. It wasn't that he doubted Esperanza's feelings, but wasn't that man 'someone who would return to the same world as Esperanza'?
But he also wondered what any of that mattered. He wouldn't know about it anyway.
"Let's go back."
No conversation passed between them during the ride back on horseback. There hadn't been much conversation even when Cyrus was there. There was none of the light banter that usually filled the space between the two, nor the laughter exchanged through glances.
Maintaining dry silence, they passed the pitch-black clearing created by the black dragon and reached the edge of the forest where trees became sparse. Esperanza somehow felt the mansion seemed a bit more gloomy than usual.
It might be her imagination. But would it be oversensitive to say the air felt dark? However, it felt unsettling, as if black fog had settled around the majestic mansion. If this were a real game, subtle background music would probably be playing.
The moment they opened the front door, a chaotic atmosphere pricked at their skin. The spacious hall was as empty as it usually was on days when tourists weren't received, but it felt different from usual. Mrs. Denver, who spotted Cider, ran over with a pale face.
"You've returned, my lord! Butler Coleman has collapsed."
The breathless lady quickly continued.
"It seems to be because of the earthquake earlier. He collapsed while having a seizure, so we called a doctor, but he hasn't arrived yet."
Butler Coleman was sturdy for his age and seemed like he wouldn't die even if he died. For such a Coleman to collapse while having a seizure. Moreover, an earthquake?
"If you mean earthquake, surely..."
There was only one vibration that could be called an earthquake. Could it be felt even from here? But even so, what did Coleman have to do with the machine that a mere vibration like that would cause a seizure?
"The butler? Hasn't he regained consciousness yet?"
"No, he's here."
Butler Coleman, shaking off the support of the servants, strode over. The young, robust servants couldn't match the arm strength of the old man who had steeled himself with malice and were helplessly pushed back. With his bloodshot eyes bulging, he immediately asked Cider.
"Did you turn that machine on again? That, that devil's machine?"
Cider looked down at the butler steadily. The butler had originally been negative about Cider's hobbies. He had even looked upon them with white eyes as if possessed by demons. Like old people generally do, he had appropriately ignored it, thinking it was resistance to new things.
But he had never shown such a reaction.
"You mustn't do that. If you think even a little of the late count, what kind of machine is that...!"
The skeletal hand gripping Cider's cravat was trembling. Tears overflowed from his wrinkled eyes. The old man, gasping for insufficient breath, cried out.
"How, how can you be so indifferent? How!"
Sharp pain grazed his cheek.
The chaotic air settled coldly. Esperanza, who had been standing not knowing what to do, instantly twisted the butler's arm to subdue him. The butler who had shaken off four young servants couldn't move at all in Esperanza's grip. The old man, belatedly realizing what he had done, only made choking sounds.
"What a sight to behold."
Cider clicked his tongue and rubbed his cheek with his fingertips. A slap from an old man who had never hit anyone in his lifetime with a clumsy hand couldn't hurt that much. But where in the world is there a count who gets slapped by his butler? The humiliation was sharper than the pain.
"Mrs. Denver!"
Mrs. Denver, who had turned pale, quickly approached and bowed her head.
"I won't need instructions. Handle it yourself."
Mrs. Denver had a gentle personality, but as the head maid of a great mansion, she was quick-witted. The situation was resolved in an instant.
The butler, whom Esperanza had knocked unconscious with personal satisfaction, was carried to the butler's quarters, stretched out like a corpse. Mrs. Denver, who had firmly silenced the servants, left them to Millen. While the servants who had been passed around among the senior employees were saying yes, yes with soul-lost faces, the doctor arrived.
"It would be better to see the count first."
Mrs. Denver insisted strongly even while being intimidated. The doctor, after confirming Cider's insignificant wound, prescribed an ice pack.
"Are you okay?"
"As you can see."
The shame of showing such a sight was stronger than the wound itself. Cider avoided Esperanza's gaze. Unable to offer any comfort, Esperanza quietly bit her lips.
When the doctor left, Mrs. Denver said with hunched shoulders.
"My lord, what Butler Coleman did..."
"Making excuses isn't the lady's job, is it?"
"...You're right. I overstepped my bounds."
"Well then, it seems there's something I need to hear."
It would be best to ask the butler, but since he was unconscious and it was uncertain whether he would speak soon, Cider decided to torment the more convenient, communicative party.
After hesitating for a moment, Mrs. Denver clasped her hands together and said.
"The reason I haven't told you until now was solely because of the previous count's orders. But if you command it, my lord, I must obey."
Mrs. Denver's kind face clouded over.
"My lord, I told you that the machine in the warehouse was damaged because of a typhoon. Actually, it wasn't a typhoon. It was that machine."
The machine that Cider had made at age sixteen and remained as his crushing first failure had been left in that warehouse for four years. It wasn't maintained at all. It was only because the previous count's hunting cabin was nearby that its existence wasn't forgotten.
Then one day. When twenty-year-old Cider Claiborne was devoted to his doctoral thesis in Nine Holder, that machine moved. At first, no one knew. However, vibrations that seemed to shake the earth reached the mansion.
"It seems the young master's machine is causing trouble?"
Five years ago, Butler Coleman from his relatively sound days looked at the forest with clouded eyes and said. His hands polishing the silver utensils slowed down. Then Mrs. Denver burst through the door.
"Disaster! The count is in the forest!"
Clang, the valuable silver utensils rolled at their feet.