The sound of the morning breeze drifted through the dormitory window, enveloping the room in absolute tranquility.
On the bed, Lucien lay face down, hugging the messy pillow tightly.
After yesterday’s incident—where he was thought to have suddenly fainted and become a public spectacle due to the panic of the nobles who were always bothering him—his mental exhaustion had truly reached its maximum limit.
Lucien believed that if they truly cared about him, the best thing they could do was let him sleep alone without any disturbance.
Furthermore, the body he inhabited was notoriously weak and prone to failure.
The doorknob turned without resistance.
It was pointless to lock it, as Reichardt always had a spare key with him.
“Lucien, wake up.
Don’t become a real living corpse,” Reichardt’s voice echoed in the room.
Lucien’s one eye slowly opened.
Unfortunately, because he had slept so soundly, his emotions weren’t too explosive.
He snorted softly, shifted onto his back, and glared at his brother.
“What do you want…
coming in so early in the morning to ruin someone’s sleep?
Is your hobby disturbing people’s sleep?” Lucien muttered hoarsely, his voice sounding lazy.
“We’re going to the festival again today,” Reichardt replied matter-of-factly.
“Yesterday’s welcome celebration for you to the academy was a total failure because of the french fries incident.
Roveniel insisted we do it today.” Lucien immediately massaged his suddenly throbbing temples.
However, seeing the tired expression on Reichardt’s face, a pang of pity welled up in his heart.
After all, this body was their biological brother.
No matter how much Lucien complained, they just wanted to spend time with their younger brother.
Lucien reluctantly got up, washed his face, and put on his outer clothing.
The journey from the academy to the festival grounds took place in a horse-drawn carriage belonging to the Hawthorne residence in the capital, which Roveniel had prepared.
Throughout the journey, Reichardt was kept very busy keeping an eye on his surroundings—trying to hide so as not to be seen by Rose who definitely wanted to come along, Seilas who liked to interfere, or Rayland whose movements were difficult to predict.
After a dramatic journey avoiding unwanted disturbances, the horse-drawn carriage finally arrived smoothly at the festival gate.
There, Roveniel was standing straight to welcome them.
The eldest brother exuded the aura of a very charismatic Duke successor—naturally, at night he slept at the Hawthorne Grand Residence in the capital to take care of important documents.
Apart from spending time with his younger brother, he was here to represent their father, Duke Hawthorne.
The first hour passed quite peacefully.
The three of them roamed the festival grounds without any outside disturbance.
The sound of laughter from guests and the aroma of food slightly lifted Lucien’s mood.
Roveniel thoughtfully bought Lucien a thin furry coat so that his little brother wouldn’t catch a cold, while Reichardt patiently led Lucien’s hand so that he wouldn’t get lost in the crowd because Lucien walked too slowly like a snail lacking energy.
“Hey, don’t sleepwalk, Lucien!
If you fall into the gutter, I won’t pull you out,” Reichardt chided him playfully, ruffling his brother’s hair.
Roveniel just chuckled at the ridiculous interaction.
“Just let it be, Reichardt.
Just think of it as stamina training for him.
By the way, Lucien…
Does the candied fruit at that shop look good?
I can buy you as much as you want.” Hearing the offer, Lucien’s eyes lit up a little, feeling that at least today he could squeeze his eldest brother’s wallet as compensation for his disturbed sleep.
But the calm didn’t last long.
After purchasing the candied fruit, Roveniel suddenly pulled Lucien and Reichardt into the VIP area, where the high-ranking nobles gathered.
Unfortunately, even at the most impressive festival, these aristocrats still carried their bureaucratic tendencies.
The atmosphere in the VIP zone was stiff and resembled a business meeting, a stark contrast to the more lively and rule-free commoner’s zone across the street.
“If this is how it’s going to be, I might as well sleep all day in the dorm.
Maybe next time I should buy a padlock so Reichardt can’t break into my room.” Lucien lamented his bad luck.
“This place is truly a nest of idle people who love small talk.” Feeling utterly deceived—having assumed he was being shown around and treated to unlimited snacks, instead of being a political showpiece—Lucien made a firm decision.
While Roveniel and Reichardt were busy making small talk and fake smiles at the other noble, Lucien slowly backed away, turned around, and slipped away through the crowd.
Before finally leaving the VIP area, Lucien took the time to ask one of the gate guards.
He had only one goal: the Aryosha noodle stall.
“If anyone is looking for me, just tell them I’ve already gone back to the academy.
Don’t bother looking for me,” Lucien said flatly.
He had deliberately given that message to prevent a second disturbance, believing he had been kidnapped by a political enemy.
The guard immediately nodded in understanding; Lucien’s pale face, contrasting white hair, and red eyes were too striking to be overlooked.
As soon as he set foot in the commoner’s zona, Lucien took a deep breath.
“It feels like being freed from a birdcage.
If only my life could be this peaceful and undisturbed every day, I could sleep peacefully anywhere.
It’s a much more relaxing sight than seeing those fake faces there.” He walked leisurely along the stone streets, his eyes darting to each vendor’s stall, purchasing some of the snacks that looked appealing.
The atmosphere in this commoner’s zone was much more lively—the laughter of children, the sound of street music, and the crowds of people make the festival feel like a true celebration, not a show of power.
Meanwhile, not far away in a corner of the commoner’s zone, a young man wearing a black robe was standing while munching on typical festival snacks under his hood.
The young man ate it as if he hadn’t eaten in days.
But just as the rice cake entered his mouth, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end.
A very familiar wave of energy suddenly pierced his magical senses—a magnetic aura that had been successfully making him lose control of his senses for the past few days.
The young man quickly turned toward the source of the aura.
His eyes widened, nearly popping out of his sockets.
Amidst the crowd of commoners, he spotted Lucien walking leisurely alone.
“Why is that kid in the commoner’s area?!” the young man thought in panic.
Seeing Lucien walking toward him without noticing his presence, panic struck him.
Without thinking, he sprang backward and shouted loudly, “Stop right there!
Don’t come any closer!” Immediately, he cast a high-level defensive spell to protect himself from the aura’s psychic attack.
Lucien, who had been walking calmly with a bag of snacks, blinked in confusion at the sudden hysterical shouting of a robed man in front of him.
He continued to walk closer, intending to move past the strange man and head towards the Aryosha noodle stall.
But the young man just stretched out his hand, blocking his path with a gasp.
“What are you doing in—!” Lucien paused, snorted softly, then looked up at the face beneath the now slightly uncovered hood.
“Oh…
Master Zeonly.” Zeonly, who had been on guard, choked on his own saliva because Lucien called his name in a flat tone without the slightest fear.
“Lucien, why are you here?” “Enjoying the festival, what else?
Why are you in the commoner’s zone, Master Zeonly?” Lucien asked back, staring at the grand mage with a searching gaze.
Zeonly stuttered.
“I-I…” “Same answer as me, right?” Lucien interrupted quickly.
“But I’m guessing, your reason is definitely not just that.
You’re skipping work, right?
Otherwise, why disguise yourself in a robe so that I almost don’t recognize you?” Zeonly was shocked, confused about what words to use to refute because all the words of the teenager in front of him were right on target.
Yes, he was indeed running away from his duty of securing the barrier and simply leaving it to his subordinates so he could relax and eat well at the festival.
Amidst the awkward silence, the gears in Lucien’s head turned rapidly.
He remembered again how troublesome the magnetic aura that always hung around him was—the aura of a novel plot device that made everyone around him overprotective, overly attentive, even excessive.
If there was one person in this world who understood advanced magical theory, it was the Grand Mage before him.
Perhaps, with the Grand Mage’s help, he could be freed from this damn plot device curse and live in peace.
Without giving Zeonly a chance to argue as he thought about returning to his guard post to do his job again, Lucien immediately threw out an offer that made the young wizard’s blood run cold with dread.
“Master Zeonly,” Lucien called out seriously, staring straight into the Grand Mage’s eyes.
“Teach me aura removal magic, or at least…
advanced aura masking magic.
I want to live quietly.” Zeonly froze in place.
He was frozen, completely unaware of the absurd, unexpected words that would just spill from the mouth of the lazy teenager in front of him.