Chapter 4. An Unexpected Three‑Way Standoff
Riley barely managed to suppress a scream.
She had crossed paths with Count Ermeints once before, but the impression he gave her back then was nothing compared to how she felt now.
That time, they had been complete strangers.
This time, she was facing him as his fiancée.
“Oh my! Your husband-to-be is here!”
“Claire, what are you doing? Come here—now! Hurry!”
The Baroness, her face pale, grabbed Claire—who was clearly delighted at the chance to tease Riley—and dragged her away, hurriedly pushing her along. It was obvious she was worried that her own biological daughter might catch the Count’s eye.
Even though it was customary to introduce one’s family at such events, Ryan deliberately cleared his throat and waited until Claire had disappeared from sight.
Only then did he hurriedly make the introductions.
“This is my wife, and this is my daughter, Riley.”
“Oh? So this beautiful young lady is Riley? I hardly recognized her.”
“Haha, she was still quite young back then, wasn’t she?”
“Indeed. She used to be so small and adorable, but now she’s grown into a truly stunning beauty. Time is frightening. To think that such a cute little child would mature so beautifully.”
“Riley, greet him properly. This is Count Ermeints.”
A chill ran down her spine. Cold sweat trickled down her back, and an unbearable sensation crawled over her entire body, as if insects were creeping beneath her skin.
“I—I’m Riley Aedalin….”
“Yes, yes. It’s a pleasure to see you again in such a setting, Riley.”
Count Ermeints suddenly grabbed her hand.
Then he covered it with his own thick, wrinkled hand and slowly rubbed it, lingering far too long.
It was blatant.
Just the contact alone made nausea surge up her throat. His murky, leering gaze and the coarse, unpleasant texture of his hand were utterly revolting.
“But what brings you here?” he asked. “This isn’t a place just anyone can enter.”
“Well… the Lord of the Mage Tower sent invitations to me and my family.”
At Ryan’s reply, the Count narrowed his eyes.
“That brat invited your entire household? Were you acquainted with him beforehand?”
“Not at all. We were quite surprised ourselves when we received the invitation.”
“Hm. Strange. It’s curious enough that he even knows of your family’s existence, but to invite you personally—and then act as though he doesn’t know you here? I can’t quite figure out his intentions.”
“Yes… it is puzzling.”
“Well, there’s much I’d like to discuss, but this hardly seems the right place. Once the reception is over, I’d like to speak with you more seriously about the wedding. What do you say? Could you send your daughter to my estate?”
“Of course!” Ryan replied eagerly. “You’re welcome to take her anytime. You could even keep her with you until the wedding.”
He’s insane.
Riley stared at Ryan in disbelief.
Unbothered, Ryan busied himself flattering the Count, clearly thrilled to have found someone worth currying favor with.
“Haha, then we’ll speak again later. Regrettably, I must greet many others, so I can’t linger.”
“Certainly. I’ll see you after the reception.”
Once the Count left, Ryan patted Riley’s shoulder twice.
“You heard him, didn’t you?”
“…….”
“Don’t cause any trouble. Stay quiet until the reception ends.”
“……Uncle, I—”
“Don’t entertain foolish thoughts.”
“…….”
“And don’t even think about running away. I’ve stationed guards outside. Anyone leaving must undergo identity verification. I’ve already informed the guards about you—told them you’re mentally unwell and require a guardian, so they won’t let you leave alone.”
Riley clenched her lips and lowered her head.
Her body trembled with shock and rage. Sneering at her, Ryan offered words that were encouragement in name only.
“If you give up and let go of your stubbornness, everything becomes easier.”
“…….”
“It’s not all bad. No matter how problematic Count Ermeints may be, this match is still far beyond what you deserve. Do you think offers like this come easily for the adopted daughter of a pitiful baronial house? The Ermeints family is a distinguished noble lineage. You should consider it an honor.”
In the end, no matter what she did, she had always been trapped in her uncle’s palm.
After Ryan left, Riley staggered and leaned against the wall. He had anticipated every possible attempt at escape.
There was no way out.
Did that mean she truly had to marry that old man…?
If she were taken to his estate tonight, she couldn’t even imagine what might happen. The mere thought of breathing the same air as him made her sick.
If holding hands already felt this horrifying, what would come next?
Could she endure it?
Could she survive it?
Riley leaned weakly against the wall, utterly dazed.
There was no solution. No path forward. No retreat.
She was trapped—isolated in place—like cattle waiting for slaughter in a narrow pen.
If there was no way out either way, then maybe… rather than letting her honor be defiled by such a vile man, wouldn’t it be better to end her own life?
Her father would understand.
Surely, this wasn’t right. This was—
Riley suddenly lifted her head and looked up at the ceiling.
An endlessly distant ceiling.
Right. This was the Mage Tower.
A tower.
It was nothing like the three‑story Aedalin estate. If she jumped from the top of the Mage Tower, she would certainly die.
Yes. Better to die than be defiled.
She felt no attachment to life anymore.
She knew she would never truly belong to the Aedalin family.
No matter how hard she tried, she would never be loved.
The realization that there was nowhere in this vast world that truly needed her was devastatingly painful—agonizingly lonely.
Just knowing that she had no place to belong drained all will to live.
She couldn’t find a single reason to keep going.
If life meant nothing but suffering and being toyed with, wasn’t choosing death—at least—her own decision?
That’s it. It’s all over now.
There was no other way.
Riley straightened her back, as if resolved. Then, guided purely by impulse, she began to walk.
***
For someone who despised crowds, holding a position that required facing people nonstop was pure torture.
In that sense, this reception was an exhausting, maddening ordeal for Givnen.
It was the first official event he hosted after becoming the Lord of the Mage Tower. That meant it wasn’t a gathering where he could simply invite people he liked.
Every major political and financial power in Blestige had received an invitation—and, unsurprisingly, every single one had attended.
These were the very people Givnen would have to interact with constantly as the Lord of Horizon’s Mage Tower. In truth, this wasn’t a social gathering so much as a battlefield of diplomacy.
And—
“It’s truly regrettable what happened to Jung.”
The uninvited guest before him was, without question, the most troublesome of them all.
“I didn’t expect you to attend, but thank you for coming, Count Ermeints.”
“How could I miss Horizon’s reception? My influence may not be what it once was, but surely it’s not so negligible that I could be ignored?”
“Of course not.”
“Still, are you holding up? Your master met a brutal end here of all places. That must’ve weighed heavily on you.”
“……I’m fine now.”
“Well, you must be incredibly busy. No time to grieve a dead master, I suppose? Perhaps it’s better that way—keeping busy dulls sorrow.”
Givnen took a sip of champagne instead of replying.
Unbothered, the Count continued cheerfully.
“I worry, you know. No matter how brilliant Jung’s disciple you may be, you’re still far too young. Horizon isn’t a tower that should be led by a mere fledgling. Wearing a crown that doesn’t suit you must be exhausting—for you and your subordinates. Why not sell it to us while you can? Or bring in a professional manager? I could recommend someone excellent.”
Count Ermeints was notorious for his biting sarcasm and unrestrained tongue.
His personality was the polar opposite of Givnen’s careful, restrained nature.
Worse still, he had no sense of what should or shouldn’t be said, spewing words indiscriminately—earning him an infamous reputation in high society.
“As Jung’s fate shows, having too many enemies shortens one’s life in this world. The Mage Tower needs change. Political neutrality? It sounds nice, but really it just means being caught in the middle. The Mage Tower is a core institution of the state. To grow stronger, it needs firm political footing.”
Givnen didn’t respond. He didn’t feel the remarks were worth answering.
Yet the Count prattled on regardless.
“How about that professional manager? Just say the word—I know many capable people.”
With a polite, businesslike smile, Givnen replied calmly.
“I appreciate the suggestion, but there are no immediate management difficulties.”
“Is that so? Impressive. Even for a genius, running a tower of this size is no easy feat. Did Jung perhaps pass down his knowledge and mana to you? Given that you were his prized disciple and named successor, it’s not impossible.”
“…….”
“Ah, that explains it. I knew something felt off. Jung wasn’t someone who would die that easily. If he transferred his power to you, he wouldn’t have had much left—so his death makes sense. Did he sacrifice himself to create a monster like you? How terrifying. A born genius armed with an archmage’s power—Horizon’s future is certainly bright!”
“You flatter me.”
“By the way, have they found Jung’s killer yet?”
“The investigation is ongoing.”
“It’s taking quite a while. But if you think about who benefited most from his death, the answer should be obvious, shouldn’t it?”
At that, Givnen set his wineglass down.
Sensing the sudden chill in his gaze, the Count waved his hands exaggeratedly.
“A joke! Just a joke. You’re far too intense—one can’t even joke around!”
Givnen chuckled lightly and shrugged.
“You’re not what you used to be, Count. A general who once slew tigers bare‑handed feeling intimidated by someone as young as me.”
“What did you say?”
“I was wondering what the difference is between a toothless old tiger and a puppy pretending to be one—except that the old tiger doesn’t realize he’s no longer a tiger and still struts about as if he were.”
“Is that so? A tiger is still a tiger. Do you think a puppy playing tiger could stand against one? The world has truly changed—it’s an age where a hooligan can become Lord of the Mage Tower! Hahaha!”
Givnen laughed along lightly, while his aide, Sak, stood pale-faced beside them, silently watching the clash of wills.
“Please enjoy yourself,” Givnen said. “Given your age, don’t overexert yourself.”
“Of course! You should be careful as well. Beautiful women are eyeing you everywhere. At your age, you’d best stay sharp. After all, if a scandal breaks out on the day of the reception—think how exhausted your subordinates would be! Hahaha!”
Coming from a man who couldn’t even control his own lust and ruined his household, it was laughable—but Givnen merely smiled and nodded.
“Please take care yourself, Count. In a world where even my master was murdered, who’s to say a toothless old tiger couldn’t be next?”
“Heh. I’ll keep that in mind.”
As soon as the Count left, Sak muttered through gritted teeth.
“That man has absolutely no manners. How does someone like that even exist?”
“Let it go. Trash stays trash, no matter how nicely it’s dressed.”
The smile vanished from Givnen’s face as he murmured coldly—only to instantly replace it with an angelic smile the moment another guest approached.
Sak could only stare in awe.
To change expressions so seamlessly—it truly took skill.
So that’s what it takes to be the Lord of the Mage Tower, he thought. He could’ve been a legendary actor.
While Sak remained stunned, Givnen continued greeting guests effortlessly.
His natural eloquence and poise marked him unmistakably as the host, making him shine even brighter. With only brief information whispered by Sak, he carried conversations smoothly.
Facing figures whose names alone inspired awe, he never faltered.
Time flew as he exchanged pleasantries, discussed current affairs, and delved into Mage Tower management and business matters.
Then—finally—he found a brief opening.
“I’m going to step out and clear my head for a moment. Please handle things here.”
“Yes, sir.”
He loosened his tightly knotted tie and unbuttoned a couple of buttons at his collar. Only then did he feel he could breathe.
Even five minutes would do. His pounding head needed rest.
He stepped onto the teleport platform without hesitation and selected the top floor.
Nothing beat stargazing from the Mage Tower’s summit.
But the moment he arrived, Givnen frowned.
“D–Don’t come any closer!”
The space, which should’ve been deserted, was disturbingly noisy.
And then—
“Honestly. If we’re getting married anyway, why be so feisty?”
A familiar, deeply unpleasant voice echoed.
One he recognized instantly.
***
“Where did she go?”
“She went up to the top floor of the tower.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
The news that Riley Aedalin had gone alone to the top floor reached Count Ermeints.
Seeing this as a perfect opportunity for a private conversation, the Count headed up with thinly veiled anticipation.
He genuinely wanted to speak with her.
He had decided to marry her despite knowing she was merely the adopted daughter of a minor baron—because she resembled his first love.
Her quiet, compliant nature also pleased him. He despised strong‑willed women, believing they always tried to overpower their husbands—a lesson learned from multiple failed marriages.
That day long ago, young Riley had been unusually demure for her age.
Now that she had grown, that modesty and beauty would surely have matured as well.
“There you are, Riley.”
“H–How did you—?”
“I saw you leaving and slipped away when I found an opening.”
As he smiled and approached, Riley recoiled in terror, gripping the railing.
“Don’t come any closer!”
The Count frowned.
“Why are you acting like this? I only came to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Aren’t we getting married soon? I thought everything was already settled.”
“You settled things with my father—not me! I don’t want to marry you!”
Having already resolved to die, Riley felt no fear. She spoke honestly.
The Count stared at her, genuinely baffled.
“Why?”
He truly couldn’t understand.
“A great noble like me is willing to take in the adopted daughter of a minor baron—what exactly displeases you?”
“How could anyone love a deranged old man who hasn’t come to his senses and wants to marry someone young enough to be his child? Someone older than my father—how could I possibly love you?”
“…What did you say? Such insolent nonsense. Do you even know who I am?”
“You’re disgusting. Revolting. I’d rather die than marry someone like you.”
“Hah! Did you come here to die? Because you don’t want to marry me?”
The Count’s temper snapped.
“No matter how much I’ve declined, I never thought trash like you would dare look down on me.”
“D–Don’t come closer!”
“Honestly. If we’re getting married anyway, why be so difficult? Let’s not make things harder than they need to be.”
“I’m not marrying you!”
“Really? Whether you jump or not doesn’t matter to me—but if you’re going to die anyway, wouldn’t it soothe my anger to hold you once?”
Just as he stepped toward her—
Something suddenly appeared behind him, moved faster than he could react, and placed itself firmly between him and Riley.
The Count lifted his head to see who dared block his path.
And froze.
“…You.”
“I don’t know what kind of disgusting spectacle this is,”
Givnen said coldly, arms crossed as he glared down at him.
“But I think you should stop right there.”
It was an unexpected three‑way standoff.
