Reol stared at Sethos for a long moment, then let out a slow, tired sigh.
Truth be told, he had never planned to agree to anything. That was the whole reason he had lied about the commission in the first place was to give the child a wild task, wait it out for him to give up, and be free from him.
It should be that easy... or so he thought.
But the ring in his hand was anything but simple.
[ The Ring of Absolute Command. ]
Even in the novel, it had been mentioned multiple times as a missing artifact, hyped as a relic that should never exist outside myth.
A ring that reduced a person's freedom at the wielder's will. The wearer could bend another being into a flawless puppet, both through mind, body, and loyalty, all rewritten without resistance.
It's truly a scary and convenient artifact to have, especially since it's one of the few artifacts that do not cause any harm or consequences to the wielder if overused.
To see it now in his palm sent a chill through him.
"This is insane..." Reol murmured.
A ring like this radiated arts energy in obscene quantities, dense enough to warp the air around it, and tangled within that unmistakably negative energy.
No wonder a demonic beast that large had appeared.
This ring is insane.
If it fell into the wrong hands... no, into any hands at all, the balance of the world would tip without warning. Kingdoms would tilt immediately into wars just to find a way to obtain this.
"For now, it's best to keep it sealed," Reol thought to himself. After all, even if the ring seems broken, he doesn't feel good using it on anyone... at least, not yet.
Reol lowered his gaze as he chanted something in his breath.
Immediately, a mist coiled around his fingers, wrapping the ring until it dissolved into vapor.
Then Reol straightened his posture and turned back to the kid.
"What is it that you want?" he asked. "If it's money, then wait. I'll find a way to pay you."
Sethos immediately shook his head so hard his green hair bounced in every direction.
"Magic," he said happily. "I want to learn magic!"
"…"
"…?"
"…"
Silence dropped between them like a brick.
The wind passed, the leaves rustled. Somewhere far away, the crows began to croak.
And Reol's face began to sweat.
His gaze slowly slid to the side, as if pretending he hadn't heard that at all. Then, without a word, he turned his back.
But Sethos gasped sharply, hugged Reol's arms, and burst into exaggerated sobs.
"HEY! YOU SAID YOU'D PAY ME!"
"I never said that outright…" Reol replied.
"NOOOOO, YOU SCAMMER!!" The child began to wail while stomping the ground. "Teach me magic pleaaaase! Pleaaaase! I wanna teleport too! I wanna punch people that hard! I wanna make them kneel and cry!"
Reol winced.
"Magic isn't real, I'm just fast and strong."
Sethos stared at him longer.
"…You think I'm stupid?"
"..."
"Because that was the worst lie I've ever heard."
"..."
"Pleaaase teach me!!" Sethos remained latched onto his sleeve, shaking it violently. "I promise I'll be good! Not every day, but mostly! ...or sometimes... But pleaseee I need this!"
Reol stood frozen with an expression too difficult to detect.
But inside his head, two overworked imaginary self slammed their arguments down in a nonexistent courtroom, while the rest sat in the gallery eating popcorn and watching the chaos unfold.
"Just teach the kid and have this thing done already goddammit!" The Angel side of Reol spoke.
"Easy for you to say, as if you have the patience of a saint!" The bad side of Reol replied.
Then, Reol began to weigh his decision with pros and cons.
Pros:
— None. Absolutely none.
Cons:
— His pride would take a direct hit.
— He had never broken a promise. Not once... at least not in the version of himself written in the script.
— Teaching arts was lunacy, especially for him, who wasn't really fond of talking. Utter, irreversible madness.
Besides... to wield arts, one must not simply learned. It demanded talent and bloodline. A blessing that chose you at birth. Thus, a child with no lineage had a chance so small that it would probably only place around Rank E or worse.
And even if miracles happened…
Reol had never taught anyone in his life.
Every angle he examined screamed the same answer: troublesome.
Yet...
He glanced down.
Sethos was still there, clinging with eyes bright with hope so earnest it was almost painful. A child who had been dragged into danger, nearly flattened by a demonic beast, and then paid for his effort with nothing but excuses.
And Reol had taken the ring.
Then he wanted to refuse to pay.
Wanted to walk away.
…That did sound like something a scumbag would do.
His shoulders slumped with a long, exhausted sigh that escaped him. Looks like his angel side finally smacked the demon Reol unconscious.
"…Alright," he said at last.
"But," Reol continued, raising one finger on his lips. "There's one condition."
The boy leaned in, absolutely showing his interest in listening.
"You follow everything I say, and the moment you give up... you lose the right to ever ask me for this again."
****
CRASH!
The sound tore through a dark chamber.
A vase lay obliterated at the woman's feet, porcelain reduced to jagged shards, and the water spilled into the carpet.
"AAAAAAAARGHHHHHH"
White petals were crushed beneath her bare feet as she kept stomping the ground, making her skin split and bleed while stepping through the broken glass. Yet the woman in red did not dare to wince in pain or look down.
She kept screaming again and again. Her golden hair clung to her face as she continued digging her nails into her own cheeks. Unable to breathe properly, her eyes darted wildly.
"No… no—no, no, NO…" the woman rasped.
Her hands shook as they swept over her fingers, her wrists, inside her sleeves, tearing at lace and fabric again and again.
Yet no matter where she looked, the thing she was searching for was nowhere to be seen.
"…It's gone," she whispered.
The realization struck her a heartbeat later.
"It's missing!" she screamed. "It's fucking missing, Fredrick!"
The butler appeared at the door the moment his name was mentioned. Despite the obvious mess in the room, he paid no mind; instead, he adjusted his eyeglasses and began patching her wound.
"My lady," he replied softly, "you were wearing gloves in the carriage. You may have taken it off there. If so, we can return and search. This is not yet the end."
'Not yet.'
Simple words, reasonable reply.
Yet it still shattered her.
Fury flamed in her whole body, and her gaze snapped to the side table, locking onto the broken wine bottle.
Before she knew it, her fingers closed around it.
And swung.
CRASH!
Glass struck flesh.
A sickening sound followed as blood spilled down the butler's uniform.
He staggered once and touched the wound on his head, keeping his posture straight, before lifting his gaze to her.
There was no anger in his eyes.
But the silence of his broke her.
Her rage imploded, collapsing into raw terror, screaming and crying at the same time as the bottle slipped from her grasp, making her hands fall uselessly at her sides.
"Without that ring," she sobbed. "I'm doomed. Don't you understand? Without it... without it... I—"
Her words dissolved into a scream.
"NO! NO, NO, NO—!"
She backed away as if the room itself were closing in, then collapsed to the floor.
The butler crossed the chamber at last, leaving crimson drops behind him.
He knelt and pulled her into his arms.
One hand pressed firmly between her shoulders, grounding her. The other moved slowly along her back, patting it over and over.
"It's fine," he murmured against her ear. "The ring will return. Things bound by fate always do."
She clutched his coat while shaking violently.
"And besides," he continued, "Our goal proceeds as intended. Even without the ring."