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33.33% Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor / Chapter 39: Cause and Effect [3]

Chapter 39: Cause and Effect [3]

It was never easy for most victims to speak up.

The lingering fear that sharing their truth would make things worse made them unable to stand up for themselves.

Would anyone believe them? 

Would their words be dismissed or twisted?

Cassandra, having given a deadline, started to panic.

Her mind stirred with possibilities. 

Would her family suffer just like her too? Would the Wyndale's abuse their power to that extent?

She had knocked on the door of every Professor she came across. 

Some offered words of consolation. Others listened but did nothing.

It didn't matter whether they believed her or dismissed her claims. Without evidence, no one dared to act.

A commoner like her could cry out to the heavens themselves, but without proof, her words would never outweigh Desmond Wyndale's power.

"Cassandra!"

A familiar voice broke through her thoughts. She turned to see Charlotte hurrying toward her, carrying a bunch of textbooks.

"Do you want to study in the library together?" Charlotte asked with a cheerful tone.

Cassandra swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet Charlotte's gaze. Her cheerful demeanor was, of course, understandable.

But Cassandra hesitated. She didn't want to burden Charlotte with her problems. 

After all, what could she possibly do? 

Cassandra had already done what she could—she had told the Professor. 

Beyond that, seeking sympathy or pity from others seemed pointless.

What would the other students do?

Pity her? Whisper behind her back? Pretend to care while avoiding her the moment things got messy?

No, she thought bitterly. Seeking pity would only make everything worse.

"Sure," she said.

"Great! We haven't hung it in a while, but I guess the past few days have been quite hectic."

"It has," Cassandra replied flatly.

'You have no idea, Charlotte.'

As they walked, Cassandra's steps faltered when she noticed they weren't heading toward the library.

"Charlotte, where are we—"

"Come inside," Charlotte interrupted with a smile, pushing open the door to an empty lecture room.

Reluctantly, Cassandra stepped inside. As soon as she entered, she froze.

"Hello, Casseia."

"...."

Cassandra froze. There were two other people waiting in the room.

Ezra Kaelus, leaning casually against a desk, and the unmistakable figure of Astrid Barielle Aetherion, standing tall with her arms crossed. 

The lecture room was dimly lit, but it was unmistakably them.

It looked like a scene out of a movie.

"We'll help you," Ezra said.

"...."

Cassandra's mouth hung open slightly as she focused on the Princess. For the first time in what felt like forever, a sense of hope finally emerged within her heart.

If even the Princess was willing to help, maybe—just maybe—this was her chance.

Turning her gaze to Charlotte, she found her roommate giving her an encouraging nod.

"...."

Cassandra's hands clenched into fists as a wave of guilt swept over her. 

She couldn't deny the feeling of resentment toward Charlotte.

Yet here she was, standing by her side.

And then, beneath that guilt, another thought surfaced.

If there truly was no hope for her…. 

If no one would stand against Desmond… 

If even Professor Vanitas had abandoned her….

"...."

She was prepared to uphold Desmond's demand.

To accuse the Professor of sexual harassment.

Finding her resolve, Cassandra clasped her hand against her chest and stepped forward.

"I…."

***

Crossing his arms, Vanitas leaned on the wall of the empty classroom.

He had just arrived, but since the classroom was in the same direction as his office, he stumbled upon it.

The sight of Charlotte and Cassandra entering the classroom.

From behind the door, he could make out bits and pieces of their conversation.

Things were proceeding as planned.

While Vanitas had taken direct action to deal with the root cause of Cassandra's suffering, he knew that alone wouldn't erase the trauma that gnawed at her.

He was a mere office worker. He had no talent for eloquent words to offer or to console her. 

Even if he tried, his words would likely hold little meaning to someone like Cassandra.

No, the best course of action was to let the students themselves resolve the matter. 

To help Cassandra realize she wasn't alone.

For that reason, Vanitas had carefully orchestrated this scenario. 

He had tipped Ezra off about the situation subtly.

Because Vanitas knew exactly the kind of person Ezra was.

Satisfied, Vanitas turned and walked away, heading back to his office.

His role here was complete. After providing Gordon with the necessary tools, he had taken one additional step.

An anonymous tip had been sent to the Crusade Order, specifically to Margaret's group.

While there were a lot of corruption in the system, Vanitas knew Margaret was an exception.

From the original game's narratives, she may have been clumsy, but her integrity was beyond question.

And while her group had a traitor among them, Margaret was already vigilant.

The traitor wouldn't dare act recklessly under her watch.

———「Event Act: Wyndale Oppression」———

「Rewards:」

◆ Understanding: +10%

————————————

***

Desmond had always been revered by his peers.

Blessed with talent for magic, unlike his Father, the pressure from his Household was immense.

His Father's expectations for him were too much, to the point where if he faltered once, it wouldn't just end with scolding.

His Mother, on the other hand, was a different chaos.

A researcher with a degree in alchemy, and a kind but clumsy Mother.

Desmond could practically remember the arguments his Mother and Father had every night while growing up.

——Mother, I want to stay with you….

——I'm sorry, Desmond. But your Father needs you here, you are his heir.

——And do you not need me!?

His Mother's silence was all the answer he needed.

She did not need him.

She did not want him.

And after their divorce when he was just eight years—old, Desmond felt truly traumatized.

"...."

A child often learns from their environment growing up.

Growing up in a toxic household, Desmond had the tendency to snap at his peers whenever it was to his dislike.

But it never led anywhere.

Because he was a Wyndale.

"Ah."

The power was amazing.

He was practically untouchable.

"No wonder Father enjoys this."

But Desmond wasn't an idiot to escalate things further. So, entering University, he lived a quiet life.

While rumors about him in highschool spread, they were only that.

Rumors.

To him, women were always an enigma. Why marry when you were going to leave anyway?

Why have a child when you were going to abandon them anyway?

It didn't take long for him to understand the first two points.

It was simply because the man wanted them.

One rainy afternoon, as Desmond stared out the window, he saw her.

Arwen Ainsley.

A senior in her third year.

While everyone else had already sought shelter from the downpour, Arwen remained outside, casting her magic while waving her staff in the air like an idiot.

——....Through the fury of the elements, I command your power—Cumulonimbus!

But nothing happened.

Desmond found it funny, pathetic even.

From what he knew, third years who were about to graduate had to submit a thesis for their very own creation.

He wasn't sure about the entire criteria, but from the length of her chant, which spanned for nearly thirty seconds, it seemed to be a Grandmaster spell.

After all, spells above Master needed a Medium such as a staff to control its power.

In other words, Arwen was crazy.

A Master spell was one thing, but Grandmaster was impossible to attempt after just three years of college.

It was hard to see her on regular days, but everytime it rained, Desmond knew exactly where to find her.

Outside, underneath the oak tree, attempting the same spell over and over with no results at all.

But everytime he stumbled upon the sight, Desmond found himself unable to look away.

No, it would be more accurate to say he was drawn to her.

So, silently, Desmond wished for her success, while using her as an inspiration for his studies.

——You failed.

"...."

But the world wasn't all bright and sunny. He, who had always been revered, had failed a course in just his first year.

Vanitas Astrea.

This Professor was the sole reason he became an irregular student.

Just that one subject which was taught by him. That one subject he just couldn't pass no matter how much he studied.

But at this point, Desmond did not harbor disdain toward the Professor. Just self deprecation.

Feeling quite depressed, Desmond stumbled upon her by chance in the hallway, carrying a bunch of documents.

——Ah, sorry. Didn't see you there.

Arwen.

It was their first encounter, and Desmond stumbled with his words.

——Desmond? Okay, I'll remember that. Thanks for wishing me luck!

It was then when he realized it was raining outside.

Meaning, Arwen was headed there again.

And so, without her knowing, Desmond followed her, to see her perform her spell up close.

The rain poured down heavily, soaking his uniform, but Desmond paid no heed to it.

Arwen stood there. Around her on the grass lay parchment papers with various magic circles.

——....Cumulonimbus!

And once more, she failed.

——....Cumulonimbus!

Again.

——....Cumulonimbus!

Again.

——....Cumulonimbus!

And again.

But she was persistent. 

She had tweaked the chant, the nodes, the frequency, and the variables for each attempt.

She was truly a hard worker. Desmond, admittedly, admired that about her.

It took two hours of thorough refinement, but then it finally happened.

—O great spirit of the storm, rise from the chaos and converge into towering might! Darken the skies, enrapture your torrents, and rend the earth with your symphony. 

"What the…?"

It was happening.

The sky began to shift. Dark clouds gathered, merging into a swirling mass, causing the already dim atmosphere to grow even darker.

—....Through the fury of the elements, I command your power—Cumulonimbus!

Bang!

As her staff struck the ground, it was as if the heavens responded. 

The downpour intensified into an unrelenting typhoon. A jagged streak of lightning tore through the air, striking the ground with a loud bang.

And then, in an instant, the spell collapsed, returning to normal.

Despite the chaos, Desmond found his gaze fixed—not on the spell itself, but on the mage who had brought it to life.

She stood radiant. Desmond found her presence captivating as the storm began to subside. 

The clearing sky spilled golden rays, illuminating Arwen's face and accentuating her beauty.

"Amazing!"

He screamed, causing Arwen to be startled.

—Ah? You….! What are you doing here? It's dangerous!

"That was amazing, Lady Arwen!"

But life wasn't as beautiful as the scene he had seen on that day.

During the second semester, when the third years had to present their thesis, Desmond couldn't help but be curious.

How will the Professors react to her magic?

Will 'that' Professor be there?

For some reason, he wanted to see Vanitas Astrea entranced by Arwen's magic.

Why wouldn't they? Why wouldn't he?

While he had only seen her Cumulonimbus spell once, and though it was still a mess back then, surely, Arwen had refined and perfected the spell.

He couldn't actually hear the words from outside the auditorium, but through the window on the door, he could see their faces clearly.

Arwen was presenting her spell, and Desmond had never seen her look so composed, so dignified before.

Her usually disheveled hair was perfectly styled, complemented by subtle makeup.

The sight of her made his heart skip a beat.

As she finished, a smile was plastered on her face, and Desmond grinned in return.

"Go, Arwen!" he whispered under his breath, watching as the Professors began their evaluation.

But as time dragged on, something shifted. The smile on her face faltered, then faded entirely.

"...."

Why wasn't she smiling anymore?

Then, confusion morphed into something darker as he noticed the tension in her posture. 

Her lips were moving quickly now, and her face twisted with frustration.

"What…?"

Why was she screaming? Why did it look like she was fighting back?

And then he saw it.

The glint of tears in her eyes.

"Why are you crying….?"

***

It didn't take long for Desmond to find out why.

——Did you hear? One of the third-years was caught plagiarizing their thesis.

——No way! How could someone even think of doing that?

Plagiarism.

In the world of magic, plagiarism was a severe crime.

A mark of shame that followed the mage for life. 

To steal someone else's work was to not only undermine their efforts but to defile the very essence of magic itself.

The accusations spread quickly like wildfire.

Arwen Ainsley, was suddenly labeled a thief.

——Didn't she use that Cumulonimbus spell during her presentation? I heard it was a spell that had already been invented centuries ago.

——I heard she just changed the name of the spell.

——Really? I thought she was better than that.

The betrayal Desmond felt wasn't directed at Arwen but at the audacity of the claim itself.

He knew her. He knew the countless hours she spent under the rain, practicing, refining the circuits, writing the spell itself on the papers to perfection.

But what truly broke him was when he caught sight of her days later, sitting alone beneath the very sky she used to draw strength from. 

Her once bright eyes were dull, her shoulders slumped as if she had given up.

She didn't need to say a word. The defeat in her demeanor was enough.

And with plagiarism, came the harshest punishment for every University student.

Expulsion.

No, that wasn't quite accurate.

Because she had never been expelled in the first place.

How would they?

After all, under the oak tree, where Arwen spent hours upon hours recalibrating and conducting trial and error.

Fwooosh—

....Was the very same oak tree where her lifeless body swayed gently in the breeze.


Chapter 40: Cause and Effect [4]

Of course, Desmond had a couple more plans up his sleeve.

Charlotte and Cassandra was only the start, to see how much his 'moral compass' could take.

And if he had to say, there was no going back.

It was quite funny. He was supposed to be a third year now, on the path to graduation, but one Professor made it impossible.

Vanitas Astrea himself.

Desmond didn't want to graduate in the alchemy department. Far from it.

So, with the little sister of the Professor he loathed with every fiber of his being now here, alongside Arwen's younger brother, wasn't this the perfect stage to witness his performance?

Playing with fire?

He didn't care.

Because in the end, it wouldn't be him standing in the flames.

It would be Vanitas Astrea.

Desmond made sure of it.

His plan wasn't born overnight. It had been in motion for over a year. A set of moves meant to dismantle Vanitas Astrea's reputation piece by piece.

But even after taking everything into account, there was no such thing as a perfect plan.

Desmond had completely underestimated the volatility of a commoner, who, through sheer persistence and dedication, had clawed her way into the top 100 of the ESAT examinations.

In other words, after nearly three years at Silver University Tower, Desmond had forgotten a bunch of crucial facts.

Everyone here was the best the continent had to offer.

And then there was the inherent flaw in aristocracy itself.

They were opportunists. 

Cowards, who would shift their allegiances at the first sign of danger.

And lastly, something that was completely out of expectations.

Born with the blood of nobility, Desmond had the tendency to look down on those with insignificant last names.

To him, anyone below the rank of Marquess was nothing more than a commoner.

But Astrid Barielle Aetherion, a Princess of the Imperial Family, did not share his views.

Astrid didn't uphold the aristocratic norms most aristocrats harbored.

In fact, she aspired for a world driven by merit, not lineage.

Which led to the current situation.

"Tell me, Desmond Wyndale," Astrid began. "Is what she's claiming true?"

Desmond found himself startled for a bit. But he quickly composed himself.

If he faltered here, it would all come crumbling down.

"Princess, with all due respect, what exactly is she claiming? Perhaps we should clarify before jumping to conclusions."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Astrid said coldly. "Cassandra has accused you and your friends of tormenting her."

"Tormenting? That's quite the heavy word, Princess. Cassandra and I may have had a few.… misunderstandings, but torment? That's a stretch, wouldn't you agree?"

Astrid's expression remained calm, meeting Desmond's gaze with an air of authority. 

"I'm simply asking for your side, Wyndale. If there's nothing to hide, there's no need to be defensive."

Desmond's smirk wavered as he glanced around. 

The hallway was filled with students watching.

"...."

Then, his eyes darted to a group of familiar faces who had been complicit in his antics.

Cowards. 

They were avoiding his gaze, shrinking back as if the distance would absolve them of guilt.

"I'm not defensive, Princess," Desmond said, forcing his smirk back. "But I do wonder why my name keeps getting dragged into these baseless accusations."

"If you've done nothing wrong, then the truth will clear your name."

Her words stung more than they should have. 

The crowd was watching.

Ezra, standing beside Astrid, crossed his arms. "Yeah, Wyndale. Let's hear it. If you're innocent, prove it."

Desmond's jaw clenched. "I don't need to prove anything to you, Kaelus. This isn't a court, and I don't answer to commoners."

Suddenly.

Slap—!

A sharp sound echoed through the hallway. 

Desmond staggered slightly as his hand flew to his stinging cheek. 

"You…."

His eyes widened in shock as he turned to face his assailant.

It was Charlotte.

She stood close with her hands raised. The intensity of her expression froze him in place.

"Swear it," she demanded.

"You bitc—" He stopped himself. "You…. why would you…. how dare you?" His voice wavered in disbelief.

Charlotte didn't so much as blink. "Swear it," she repeated.

"Swear what?" he snapped. "What nonsense…?"

"An absolute oath."

"What?"

"An oath," Charlotte pressed. "Swear you aren't lying. Swear you've had nothing to do with Cassandra's suffering."

Desmond laughed, though it was strained. 

"You expect me to bind myself with an absolute oath? Do you even know what you're asking for, you little—"

"Afraid?" Charlotte cut him off, boring her dark eyes into his. "If you've done nothing wrong, it shouldn't matter."

Desmond's jaw tightened as his eyes darted toward the crowd.

"You think I'll play along with this farce?" Desmond scoffed. "You're insane."

Ezra, who had been silent until now, took a step forward.

"If you're so sure of your innocence, then prove it. Take the oath."

Desmond's glare shifted to Ezra. "You stay out of this, commoner."

"Looks like you're scared," Ezra said with a smirk. "What's the matter, Wyndale? Got something to hide?"

The students gasped. The tension in the hallway was immense.

Creaaaaak....

Suddenly, the creak of a door opening broke the tension. All eyes immediately flicked toward the source of the sound.

It was the bathroom.

And stepping out, looking utterly nonchalant, was none other than….

"Hm?"

Vanitas Astrea.

He paused as the subtle waft of perfume trailed behind him, having just dried his freshly washed hands with a handkerchief.

His gaze swept over the scene before him.

Vanitas raised an eyebrow. "Don't let me stop you. Go on. I was just about to leave anyway."

With a casual shrug, he slid his hands into his pockets and turned to walk away.

But then, Charlotte's voice rang out

"Oppa."

"...."

Vanitas froze mid-step.

The hallway grew quiet, everyone unfamiliar with the odd nickname.

Slowly, he turned back, his expression a mixture of surprise and slight disbelief. "What?"

"Exercise your authority," Charlotte demanded. "Allow us to impose him on an absolute oath."

"No," Vanitas shook his head. "It doesn't work like that."

A common misconception was that an absolute oath could expose lies. In reality, without a contractual exchange, it held no power to disprove falsehoods. Moreover, an absolute oath couldn't be invoked on a whim.

In most cases, an absolute oath required formal notarization by an attorney or an official with the authority to oversee such agreements.

Without concrete evidence to justify the oath, enforcing one was a crime in itself. 

To demand such a measure without proof was to gamble recklessly.

It risked not only the credibility of the accuser but also exposing the accused to potential repercussions.

In the eyes of the law, bullying alone—though despicable—wasn't enough to warrant the use of such a binding agreement. 

Forcing an absolute oath under these circumstances would be seen as an abuse of power, and even Vanitas couldn't bend those rules.

Not even Astrid herself. 

Charlotte's expression faltered. "But he—"

"He what?" Vanitas walked towards them. "Tell me exactly what he did."

In the perspective of a third party, it looked as if Vanitas was siding with Desmond.

Even Desmond himself found himself baffled by the situation. Vanitas Astrea himself? Defending him?

Charlotte hesitated, glancing around the hallway. 

The crowd was watching intently as Vanitas's presence tore through the tension.

"He tormented her," Charlotte said. "....He's been tormenting Cassandra."

Vanitas tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Tormenting, you say? And do you have proof of this torment?"

Charlotte's fists clenched at her sides. Her silence spoke louder than any words could.

Vanitas nodded, glancing briefly at Cassandra, who avoided his gaze and stared at the floor.

"That's what I thought," he said.

The murmurs in the hallway grew louder. Some students exchanged confused glances.

Vanitas stopped directly in front of Desmond.

"And you," he said. "Do you deny the allegations?"

Desmond swallowed deeply, hesitating before responding. 

"Of course I do, Professor. These baseless accusations are nothing more than hearsay. Without evidence, I see no reason to entertain such nonsense."

Vanitas nodded again. "Good. Then you won't mind if I hold a disciplinary hearing with the council to address these allegations, will you?"

Desmond's smirk faltered. "A…. hearing?"

"Standard procedure," Vanitas said. "If you're innocent, the process will only clear your name. After all, someone of your standing has nothing to fear from a thorough investigation, correct?"

The smug expression on Desmond's face wavered, and a bead of sweat formed on his temple. 

"Of course," he said quickly. "....I have nothing to hide."

Vanitas turned back to the crowd and addressed all the students watching.

"Let this serve as a reminder. No one is above accountability, no matter their name or status. If anyone has relevant information regarding this case, you are encouraged to come forward."

His gaze shifted to Cassandra, who had remained silent the entire time. Her shoulders hunched as though she wished to disappear.

"And you," he said. "If you wish to fight this battle, do so properly. Gather evidence. Build a case. Recklessness will only weaken your position."

"...."

Cassandra looked up. She opened her mouth to respond but quickly shut it again and nodded instead.

Vanitas then turned to Desmond, stepping closer, and spoke.

"The hearing will take place in two weeks."

"Two weeks?" Desmond repeated, confusion evident in his expressions. "Why two weeks? Isn't it usually scheduled for one?"

"In most cases, yes. But considering your circumstances, I've decided to allot extra time."

"Circumstances…?" Desmond blinked, his voice wavering.

Vanitas tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugged at his lips.

"Oh, you haven't heard?"

Desmond's stomach sank.

"Your father has been arrested." Vanitas continued. "He's under investigation as we speak."

"...."

The color drained from Desmond's face. The murmurs in the hallway turned to gasps as students processed what had just been said.

"Arrested?" Desmond's voice trembled. "That's…. impossible. You're lying."

"You're welcome to confirm it yourself. I hear the Crusade Order has been quite thorough with their inquiries."

Desmond's fists clenched at his sides. If his father was truly under investigation, his family's reputation—and his own—were at risk of crumbling.

Vanitas turned away without another word, addressing the crowd one final time. 

"This conversation is over. Return to your lectures."

Then, Vanitas's gaze shifted to Cassandra, who stood frozen in place.

For a moment, their eyes met.

"...."

He winked.

"...."

The subtle gesture left Cassandra stunned, causing her to raise her brows.

Without another word, Vanitas slid his hands into his pockets and walked away.

Unable to think about the situation, with clenched fists, Desmond bolted down the hallway, most probably heading toward the exit to confirm the situation.

Silence settled over the remaining group. No one seemed able to process what had just transpired.

The one to break through the tense stillness was, unsurprisingly, Ezra.

"What just happened?"

"Uh…." 

Even Astrid couldn't comprehend it. Has the situation been resolved or not?

Suddenly, as if he realized something, Ezra turned to Charlotte, and asked, "Charlemagne, are you close with the Professor?"

"...."

The group froze.

Charlemagne? How could someone mess up Charlotte's name to that extent?

Ezra rubbed his chin thoughtfully, like a detective on the verge of cracking a case. 

"You know, now that I think about it, it's kind of weird. You just showed up in our class, specifically in Professor Vanitas's class."

"...."

And yet, somehow, he didn't mess up Vanitas's name!?

Charlotte sighed, fixing Ezra with a blank stare. 

"He's my brother."

"...."

Ezra froze, looking like he'd just seen a ghost. His mouth hung open as if his soul had left his body.

Astrid, unable to resist, smirked and chimed in. "You seriously didn't know?"

"Pftt~"

Even Cassandra, who had been silent, let out a soft chuckle.

"....Holy shit!"

***

For the past couple of weeks, Margaret had been thoroughly trying to uncover the traitor.

But no matter how hard she tried, it was impossible.

She couldn't afford to blindly accuse her members without concrete evidence. Doing so would only sow distrust among her order.

To make matters worse, she had to deal with the aftermath of the Mage Killer's death.

His capture would've been a monumental boost for her order's reputation.

But unfortunately, his death had become a missed opportunity that left a heavy blow to her group.

Then, out of nowhere, something changed.

An anonymous tip arrived.

They were skeptical at first. Anonymous tips were common, after all, and turned out to be baseless claims.

But as they scrutinized the details, it seemed to be thoroughly detailed.

It was something they couldn't just ignore.

After securing permission from the government, Margaret and her Crusade Order quickly moved.

They arrived at the Wyndale estate. The servants, clearly taken aback, exchanged nervous glances as the group approached.

"We request the presence of Lord Wyndale," Margaret stated.

One of the butlers stepped forward, bowing politely.

"I'm afraid the Lord isn't home."

"...."

Margaret frowned but remained composed. 

The absence of the Lord complicated matters, but it wasn't enough to stop their mission.

Immediately, they presented the warrant.

The butler hesitated, then reluctantly stepped aside.

The Crusade members thoroughly searched every corner of the mansion.

But for all their efforts, nothing incriminating was found.

Until they reached one room.

The Lord's office.

The door was locked with a magical barrier.

Margaret nodded to one of her members, who quickly prepared a countermeasure. 

They placed a specially crafted magic circuit on the door. Within moments, the barrier dismantled, and the door creaked open.

The group stepped inside.

"Search everything," she ordered.

Her team got to work. They checked every drawer, flipped through every book, and inspected every corner.

It didn't take long.

One of the members called out, "Found something!"

Margaret approached the desk, where a hidden compartment had been revealed.

Inside were artifacts and parchment papers inscribed with symbols that sent chills down her spine.

She reached for one of the parchments.

"...."

Exactly as the anonymous tip had claimed.

"Lord Wyndale," she murmured, "has been harboring dark magic artifacts."

The room fell silent as the Crusade members exchanged glances.

Margaret turned to her second-in-command. "Secure everything. This is now a matter for the Council."

The team moved swiftly. They collected the incriminating items and documented every detail.

And they didn't have to wait longer.

"What's going on? Why are all of you here?" the Lord, who had just arrived home, said.

"Lord Wyndale of the Wyndale Marquess Family," Margaret began, stepping forward. "You are under arrest for violating Section 4, Article 17 of the Imperial Code. The possession and concealment of dark magic artifacts."

"....?"

The Lord's face twisted in a mix of confusion and disbelief.

"What the fuck—"


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