"That interpretation seems more persuasive. So that must be why you committed such a reckless act."
The Marquis's smile cracked.
His change in facial expression was so dramatic that it was the first time I realized a good-natured impression could shift so instantly.
A face devoid of even a shred of emotion stared intently at me.
"...Watch your mouth, 'Professor' Yulian. Calling a Marquis's action a reckless 'act'."
Marquis Barlot subtly displayed his authority as a Marquis.
But I wasn't one to cower at such a thing.
I was someone who had treated even the Great Sage and the Imperial Prince.
The Marquis's threat wasn't very scary.
Honestly, I was terrified.
How could I not be, when a fortress-level military force was glaring at me with a straight face?
I had even seen him toying with that lump of tentacles firsthand just a few hours ago.
But I feigned composure and spoke to the Marquis.
"If you don't like the choice of words, I'll make a correction. Not a reckless act, but a foolish one."
"..."
The Marquis silently moved his hand toward the sword he had placed next to the sofa.
"Is there any reason I shouldn't cut you down right here for the Crime of Impiety?"
"Because if you cut me down, you won't be able to achieve what you desire, Marquis."
"How can you be so sure of that?"
"Because you must be far more desperate than I am."
Our gazes clashed in midair.
The Marquis's hand stroked the sword, hesitating whether to draw it immediately or not.
Soon, as if giving up, the Marquis dropped his shoulders with a deep sigh.
"...How much do you know?"
"From this airship crash incident, to my being framed and imprisoned, and then receiving your help—it was all your plan, Marquis."
"Is that all?"
"And that you were in desperate need of my help as the Professor of Black Magic Defense Arts to save your son, Adrian."
"...Huu."
The Marquis let out a deep sigh.
The middle-aged man nodded with a face steeped in fatigue.
"That is the Correct Answer. Since when did you catch on?"
"I don't think that's very important right now."
"Now that you mention it. Yes, it wouldn't be important."
Honestly, he was a bit suspicious from the moment we first met at the detention center.
That wasn't important right now.
The important thing was the fact that the Marquis standing before me had conspired with Black Sorcerers.
"Just as I heard, I see."
The Marquis muttered as he took his hand off his sword.
"Other Professors would either remain completely ignorant, or keep their mouths shut even if they realized the truth... Yet you go out of your way to point it out."
"It seems to be an Occupational Hazard."
"Right. That's why I chose you, but actually facing it is giving me a headache."
The middle-aged man's head fell weakly against the backrest of the sofa.
Letting out a sigh mixed with a complaint toward the ceiling, Marquis Barlot spoke.
"Then, Lord Yulian. Do you also know why I went to such lengths?"
"No."
I shook my head.
I did have a guess, though.
My position as Professor of Black Magic Defense Arts, and the Marquis's desperation.
Combine those with the countless Web Novel Clichés I'd seen in my previous life, and the Big Data spanning a long history, and a rough outline was drawn.
But an outline was just an outline.
Unless it was filled in, it wasn't true 'Knowledge'.
The Marquis let out a small chuckle.
"From the looks of it, you do have a guess. Is it caution that keeps you from rashly claiming you know it, even when you do?"
"Let's just say this is also an Occupational Hazard."
"Right."
The Marquis straightened his head, which had been leaning back.
"Then I shall tell you the truth. Who knows? Perhaps hearing my unfortunate circumstances might change your mind."
"I will listen closely."
"It will be a long story."
The Marquis rose from his seat.
"I'll bring us some tea to drink."
***
Seventeen years ago.
Joyous news arrived at Marquis Barlot's mansion.
A son had been born to the Marquis.
Adrian Barlot.
Lifting the small life in his two arms, the Marquis made a vow.
That he would do absolutely anything to protect this little treasure.
A few years later.
As if to test that resolve, dark clouds began to cast over the Marquis family.
"They said he would have a hard time surviving past ten."
These were the words of the Healer called to treat the bruises that had formed without reason on Adrian's legs.
"It was said he had a constitution where his blood didn't clot well. I heard my wife's younger brother also died for a similar reason in his childhood."
The Marchioness despaired, believing her son must have inherited that blood.
But the Marquis didn't believe in such a tragic future.
He was a Prophet, and a man who had changed the future countless times.
His power as a Marquis. And precognition.
With these two things, he thought he could save his son.
"My wife and I poured everything we had into it. All for that one child."
Perhaps the heavens were moved by the devotion of the Barlot married couple.
Fortunately, Adrian was able to safely celebrate his 14th birthday.
"At the time, my son wanted to ride a horse. But because of the risk of falling, I never gave my permission."
However, on his 14th birthday.
The Marquis made an exception and let his son ride a horse.
Of course, he paid close attention to the risk of falling and carried it out fully prepared.
And so, Adrian was able to ride a horse for the first time in his life.
Without falling or any particular accident.
The Marquis was proud.
Though it didn't even take one month for that pride to turn into regret.
"I was absolutely careful with everything. But there was something I overlooked. I never imagined that Adrian would have hidden the fact that he was injured for one month."
One month after the event where the Marquis let his son ride.
Adrian began to complain of severe pain in his knee.
As it turned out, on the day he was let onto the horse, Adrian's knee had bumped into his father's military boots while mounting.
Adrian, who was a boy full of consideration at the time, kept this fact a secret from his father.
Because he didn't want his father, who had prepared such a gift for him, to feel sorry.
"The bruise on his knee was treated well at the time. However, from that day onward, his knee continuously turned red."
The wound that was believed to be cured relapsed endlessly.
Even from the rattling of a carriage, or the motion of climbing stairs.
From trivial matters of daily life, Adrian's knee continuously repeated a cycle of getting better and getting worse.
Along with this, the bruises that started on his legs gradually began to spread up to his abdomen.
Before long, Adrian reached a point where he couldn't get any sleep from abdominal pain without a pain relief potion.
"It was from around that time. The Healers' Divine Magic gradually began to lose its effect."
Once the abdominal pain worsened, the Healers also began to throw their hands up in defeat.
One Healer even went as far as to say that it would be best to slowly start preparing his heart.
Of course, they didn't know.
The fact that the pain relief potion was the very culprit.
Oblivious to that fact, the Marquis mobilized all of his power to save his son.
"I scoured every record to save Adrian. And I found a record in a history book of someone who had a constitution similar to Adrian's but barely lived to see adulthood."
According to the record, that person had overcome their constitution by raising their level of mastery as a wizard.
The problem was the type of magic that wizard wielded.
"That wizard... was a Blood Mage."
At the time, having found a clue, the Marquis agonized.
Teaching his son blood magic wasn't the issue.
Learning or using black magic itself was not a taboo.
The problem was finding someone to teach it, and the experience needed to raise that level of mastery.
Blood magic is magic that manipulates blood.
To build up one's level of mastery, blood had to be drawn, and the likelihood of this process involving murder was far too high.
Because of this, the majority of skilled Blood Mages were all Black Sorcerers who had broken taboos.
"But there were no other options. Because the moment I held this child in my arms, I made a vow."
In the end, the Marquis somehow managed to succeed in making contact with the Black Sorcerers.
The gathering of black mages dreaming of the revival of the Magic Tower of the 13th Month—
"It was from then on that my leash was grabbed by the 'Round Table'."
*
Two years ago.
The Marquis joined hands with the Round Table of Thirteen.
The contents of the contract were simple.
The Marquis would deliver information from within the Academy, and for that price, the Round Table would dispatch a Blood Mage capable of solving his son's problem.
The Round Table had Elders representing 13 different types of black magic, and The Old Mage who taught Adrian blood magic was also one of them.
"His skill was certain. When he taught Adrian blood magic, Adrian's symptoms also improved significantly."
The Elder called Adrian's constitution a talent as a 'Blood Mage'.
Originally, all Blood Mages had a talent related to blood,
and because that talent was so exceptional, they developed illnesses related to blood.
"The Elder also said he overcame his own constitution after reaching Rank 2."
The Marquis held out hope at those words.
Because it sounded like it meant that if Adrian's blood magic only reached Rank 2, he too could live like a normal person.
"...But progress was strangely slow. After teaching up to a certain point, he always stopped there."
***
"He was a hostage."
Having heard the explanation up to that point, I interjected.
The Marquis nodded.
"Yes. My wife noticed it first. That they were intentionally delaying the child's treatment. All to keep a leash on our family."
Knowing the truth, the Marchioness couldn't wait any longer, I'm sure.
Because she was a mother.
"While I was away, she took the teachings of the Round Table she had listened to and memorized by his side, and attempted them on our son with her own hands."
Her rank was low, but she was a Mage in her own right, so she likely thought she could pull it off as long as she knew the principle.
However, there was a fact that the Marchioness had overlooked.
"Exception Handling... You know it too, right? That basic runic formula of mages. My wife applied the wrong exception handling to that unfamiliar magic, and..."
The Marquis's hand swept along the rim of his teacup once.
"I don't know the principle behind it. Only that my wife also began clutching her stomach exactly like our son. In fact, it was worse than our son's. She couldn't even pass urine."
"The magic that your wife attempted... Was it the type of magic that clots blood?"
"Yes."
I had a rough guess.
The wrong exception handling had likely sent a blood clot to her kidneys and colon.
This must have caused ischemic colitis and a renal infarction.
Thinking that this was a future Eri might have experienced, a corner of my heart felt heavy.
"My wife is currently at the villa. An exclusive Healer is by her side, treating her."
"Because if she were here, the Healer would have run into the Round Table's Elder."
"Yes."
The Marquis let out a deep sigh.
"After this incident, that Blood Mage Elder bastard grew arrogant. Saying that if I wanted to save my wife and son, I would have to listen to his words."
From then on, the Round Table began working the Marquis to the bone however they pleased.
Unlike when it was just a leash, now they had added a bridle to the mix.
The Round Table, which had at least preserved the Marquis's face until then, gradually began making unreasonable demands of him.
"That Elder bastard only taught enough blood magic to keep my son and wife from dying."
"Is that why you brought me here? To get rid of that bridle and leash?"
The Professor of Black Magic Defense Arts had appeared at just the right time, so the Marquis must have seen it as an opportunity.
"Yes."
"Then are you hoping that I pass on blood magic to your son and make him reach Rank 2?"
"That is also true."
The Marquis leaned back on the sofa and gently closed his eyes.
"This is the full story of the incident."
To summarize.
1. The Black Sorcerers are constantly keeping a sharp eye on my neck, as I keep reducing their standing.
2. In that situation, the Marquis joined hands with the Black Sorcerers to save his son.
3. Due to this, the Academy's security was breached and the graduation exam incident occurred.
4. The Black Sorcerers must have planned to use a Shapeshifter to frame me and deal with me.
'Additionally, a negative public opinion about Black Magic Defense Arts would have formed. It really is killing two birds with one stone.'
However, there was a problem.
The Marquis was also planning to use all of the situations from 1 to 4.
'If a major incident occurs, the surveillance inside the Academy toward the Black Sorcerers will become stronger, and if that happens, the black magicians' surveillance of the Marquis would naturally loosen.'
Since they'd already caused an incident, the Black Sorcerers would also have to lay low.
If that happened, the constraints on the Marquis's actions would also be lifted.
"...The reason you went through the trouble of making things this convoluted was because you didn't want any prying eyes on you."
"Yes. Asking for help directly was impossible. The bastards implanted parasites in my heart and my family's hearts."
I nodded.
Most of my doubts were resolved.
Now, only one doubt remained.
"I'll ask just one last thing."
"Speak."
"I don't think you're going to say you didn't know the airship would crash, and that someone among the students and Professors would die."
"..."
"Then..."
The Marquis, who had been leaning against the sofa with his eyes closed, raised his head again.
The eyes of the middle-aged man I met looked exceptionally sorrowful.
"Until the incident occurred, to what extent did you make a contribution to the incident?"
"Huu..."
The Marquis let out a heavy sigh.
"Even having come to this point, I try to put in my best effort to be a father who is not an embarrassment to my son. I avoid getting the blood of innocent people on my hands. Of course, it's funny to say this when I've already joined hands with the Round Table."
"Then, with that precognition ability, you could have chosen a better method, couldn't y..."
"Didn't you say just one question."
At his words, I couldn't bring myself to continue speaking.
Because the deep fatigue and heavy sigh coloring his voice seemed to be begging me to please stop asking questions.
"...I understand. Then I will resolve the black magic placed on your son and your wife tonight. After that, I will teach blood magic to your son."
"Wait. My wife?"
Ah, come to think of it.
The Marquis still seemed to consider the Marchioness's problem a blood magic problem.
Since it was an era where the principle of blood clots wasn't properly known.
Since that mess happened as a side effect of failing blood magic, it was natural to think it could be treated again with blood magic.
Add to that the gaslighting from the Blood Mages.
I immediately made a correction to the Marquis's misunderstanding.
"I will contact a Healer I know and have your wife's problem fixed as well."
"What... do you mean by that?"
"Your wife's problem isn't something that only a Blood Mage can fix."
The Marchioness's problem was caused by a blood clot.
Which meant it could be sufficiently treated with just Heparin and a few surgeries.
Yes. Heparin.
The very medication that took the students' lives in this incident.
In a way, the Marquis already knew of the medicine that could cure his wife.
'Of course, if you're not a doctor, you wouldn't know that a blood clot is blocking the intestines or kidneys, so even if you had Heparin, you wouldn't know you needed to use it.'
Come to think of it, maybe the Healers of this world wouldn't know either?
They still lacked knowledge about blood clots, so they didn't really know where to use Heparin.
Anyway.
"Forget the Blood Mages' words. A Healer will cure your wife."
"Is that true? No, before that, how do you know that? Isn't my wife's problem a black magic problem?"
"Have you forgotten? My major is the 'defense' against black magic. When you search for countermeasures, you inevitably become well-versed in the Healing Arts as well. The treatment I gave your son tonight was also something I learned in the process."
"Ah..."
The Marquis was convinced.
"I will send the most skilled Healer I know."
A Saint wearing a Crow Mask was scheduled to pay the Marchioness a visit.
"Are you satisfied now?"
"...Thank you."
The Marquis nodded.
I rose from my seat while gauging the Marquis's mood.
The Marquis didn't seem to have any particular thought of stopping me from leaving the room.
'That's a relief.'
I thought he'd at least threaten me to keep his joining hands with the Black Sorcerers a secret.
The Marquis didn't seem to have any intention of mentioning that part in particular.
Of course, even if he did, I hold the upper hand, so his threats wouldn't have worked anyway.
He's the desperate one in the first place, putting him in a position where he can't lay a single finger on me.
Thinking so, I was just about to leave the office to handle his son's parasite first.
"Lord Yulian."
"Yes?"
"About the question you were going to finish earlier."
"?"
The last question?
Ah.
"You were going to say there might be a better path, weren't you?"
The Marquis spoke with a face steeped in fatigue.
"To answer that... perhaps so. But contrary to what you think, precognition is not a blessing."
"Then what is it?"
"A curse."
He buried his face in both his hands.
From beyond his palms, his voice echoed like a cave.
"Precognition is a curse. The moment you see it once, your field of view narrows, and in the end, all you're left with is a binary choice: do you choose that future, or do you avoid it? It has its usefulness in combat, but in everything else, it actually becomes a shackle."
Through slightly parted fingers.
Eyes lined with heavy dark circles looked at me.
"That is why I envy you. Because prophets, generation after generation, forfeit their right to choose the best future, and can only ever pick the lesser evil."
"..."
"Please tend to my son first. My head is a mess... I will take you to the villa where my wife is afterward."
The Marquis's trembling voice.
I left the office without a word.
Because I felt like I knew why he was acting that way.
Around the time the door closed.
His self-deprecating voice slipped through the gap in the door.
"Is it finally over..."
That I felt a strange sense of liberation from that voice was surely not just a feeling.