Chapter 10

The tongue attempts to utter words the brain hasn’t approved.

A reflexive retort of “Why do you include me in ‘us’ without my consent?” was intercepted by reason. Good job, my rationality.

The chair slowly turned and stopped precisely facing me. Carisia’s high-heeled foot swayed gently.

“Would you care to share your thoughts?”

Without consultation, proposing some strange plan and then suggesting a retreat after seeing Cao Cao gnawing on chicken ribs—surely I won’t end up like someone executed for such an impulsive move. Still, we’ve shared so many years together.

Taking a moment to think, this is now a situation where everyone else has been dismissed, leaving just the two of us.

If they intended to publicly act against me, it would have happened earlier, not now.

So, this question isn’t Carisia indirectly expressing discomfort. It’s simply a genuine inquiry about what I think.

…Probably.

“Oh. Would you prefer to sit down? Standing must be uncomfortable.”

Here, anyone who agrees and sits down is inexperienced. If I really sat, it might lead to remarks like, “Our company is so egalitarian; even employees dine with the chairman.”

I’m a seasoned subordinate. The time I’ve spent working under Carisia isn’t for nothing.

“No, sir. How could I dare?”

“But I already confirmed there’s no eavesdropping device between us. Between us…”

“It’s precisely because it’s between you and me that it must be this way.”

Carisia’s eyes sharpened. Was something in my previous statement bothersome?

This is why serving a moody superior is difficult. One should at least know where the red lines lie.

“Why?”

Tensely, I crafted a plausible response.

“You may be an essential figure to me, but I must not become an essential figure to you.”

***

“Human attachment is a weakness.”

Ortes rarely wore such a stern expression. His line-drawing was sharp and unyielding. The boundary he had drawn between us never changed.

Though she found solace in his consistency, Carisia also felt an internal contradiction—a desire for him to falter. She adjusted her posture instead of sighing, adopting the dignified bearing appropriate for a ruler, as Ortes had advised.

“The queen in chess is a powerful piece,” I began, comparing the chairman’s battle to a game of chess, though perhaps presumptuously likening myself to the queen. “But one shouldn’t grow attached to powerful pieces. Sometimes, for the sake of the game, the queen must be sacrificed.”

Carisia tensed her right arm resting on the chair’s armrest. She didn’t like Ortes’ words.

“Guarding a single piece at the expense of the entire game is not only absurd but foolish.”

Carisia knew well that persuading such a serious Ortes was nearly impossible.

“…Hmph.”

She eventually sighed. No matter how many years passed, she couldn’t cross that line.

“Alright. Let’s return to the original topic. First, explain why you presented a different plan to the board members.”

***

“You are a heretic.”

Reflecting further, perhaps the casual phrasing of “between you and me” was problematic.

There are people who allow subordinates to approach them informally but react harshly if the favor is returned. Formalities must be maintained unless we’re wandering through a desert together like in the old days.

Even if they don’t outwardly show it, these types enjoy being treated with respect.

“A heretic? A word better suited for fanatics who believe in vanished gods.”

“In reality, isn’t that what it is? The Wizard King is the deity of mages, and the Ten Sages are relics left behind by him. Mages’ obsession with ascension mirrors religious zealots’ yearning for salvation.”

Carisia twisted her lips into a bitter smile—a mix of hatred and anger directed at White Light Tower.

“In this world, the Ten Sages are guidelines for salvation. Most mages aim to connect with them even once in their lifetime. In such a context, your plan is too radical.”

“Are you worried the board members might report you to White Light Tower?”

I nodded. Carisia shook her head dismissively, as if dismissing unnecessary concerns.

“Secrets grow weaker when shared.”

“Unless the purpose is to create a trusted inner circle?”

Carisia asked mischievously, but I answered without hesitation.

“It’s premature.”

You and I are exceptions. As far as I know, no mage in this world entertains thoughts of destroying the Ten Sages except for Carisia.

“The board members can’t comprehend your aspirations. What they can’t understand often becomes either revered or feared.”

Most mages wouldn’t grasp the concept of destroying the Ten Sages. Instead of monopolizing or using its knowledge to attempt ascension, you’re simply planning to destroy it?

“And the board members are likely to fear your intentions.”

The probability that one of them might report to Proper Tower out of concern that the clues to ascension will vanish forever isn’t low.

The desire for the Ten Sages and ascension is that strong. Even a dark alley mage, worn down by reality, couldn’t easily abandon that longing.

“It’s more advantageous to hint at a different goal for the board while secretly progressing with your plan.”

“So? Are you asking whether it actually exists?” Tension rose unexpectedly, stiffening the back of my neck.

If Carisia doubts its existence, all I’ll have left is tearfully pleading for her trust.

“Does it have to be used exactly like the Ten Sages?”

Fortunately, Carisia seemed to harbor no doubts about its existence. After all, even in the original story where I wasn’t present, Caike’s artificial tenth rank fell into her hands.

Perhaps she sensed something akin to its resonance upon arriving in the city.

“Like the Ten Sages? Do you have other ways to utilize it?”

“The magical inscriptions embedded within the artificial tenth rank probably only reach the extent of Caike’s tower and knowledge, but the amount of mana should be considerable…”

An image of Baegmun’s large-scale bomb terror from the original story flashed in my mind.

Could it be…

“Processed into a mana bomb and hurled at White Light Tower…”

My goodness. So that’s your true nature.

“…I’ll consider that method as well. However, Chairman, the artificial tenth rank could become an object of desire for the board members.”

Who knows when they might decide to use it for self-destructive terrorism? If Etna City were to evaporate due to careless management, wouldn’t most of my future plans collapse?

Isn’t this an unprecedented clue to ascension? Whether real or fake, making the board believe it is crucial.

Let’s steer clear of bombs for now. Don’t go there, please.

***

“Stoke their desires, then feed them little by little to make them crave more.”

At times, Carisia thought Ortes’ words resembled a teacher’s lessons.

In truth, since escaping White Light Tower’s laboratory, she had spent most of her time with Ortes.

“If the Chairman acts as though the artificial tenth rank holds great significance, it will easily guide the board members’ actions.”

The knowledge acquired in the lab was strictly limited to magic-related fields.

Of course, she vaguely remembered learning something else before being captured and brought to the lab.

But those memories crumbled under the weight of the information about the Ten Sages forcibly implanted by White Light Tower.

All that remained were fragmentary ashes of forgotten recollections.

To Carisia, who lost her past, Ortes was indeed the one who taught her things beyond magic.

“If we make the greatest secret of Hydra Corp the fabrication of a new king…”

Her confidant and mentor smiled.

“Then no one will pay attention to the real secrets.”

We will dismantle the name “White Light.” Both the Ten Sages and the Tower.

She listened contentedly to the blueprint of the future whispered by her steadfast ally in vengeance.

At the same time, she realized a problem.

The advice Ortes gave at the beginning of their private conversation—”One must also know when to sacrifice a piece”—didn’t sit well with her.

***

“It seems all your questions have been resolved. Shall we head upstairs now?”

I need to quickly devise a way to meet Caike.

While Carisia harbors no doubts now, I must finalize my plans as soon as possible. At least enough to deflect any surprise inspections with plausible explanations.

“Yes, go ahead.”

“What about you, Chairman?”

“I need a moment to think.”

For some reason, Carisia’s gaze on my face feels piercing. I bid farewell as naturally as possible and leave the meeting room.

And rush to my room at full speed. First, I need to freshen up properly and think clearly.