At the question asked as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Ludger momentarily lost his words.
“...How the hell?”
Normally, he would have flatly denied it without hesitation.
He would’ve asked if she hadn’t simply misunderstood something.
But Ludger couldn’t make such excuses in front of Yekaterina.
Just look at those innocent eyes asking as if she truly didn’t know.
She was already certain of his identity.
Ludger knew Yekaterina well.
She wasn’t someone who would ask so directly unless she was absolutely sure.
Because they knew each other that well, he couldn’t hide it any longer in a situation like this.
Whether Ludger’s reaction served as a sufficient answer or not, Yekaterina’s eyes lit up.
“I knew it! I knew you were the person I knew!”
“You idiot... Lower your voice.”
With that, Ludger deployed a sound-blocking barrier around them.
Just to be safe, he checked to see if anyone was watching, but thankfully, he didn’t sense anyone nearby.
He let out a silent sigh of relief, but irritation surged up inside him.
Ludger’s hand landed firmly on the top of Yekaterina’s head.
“Huh?”
Yekaterina blinked blankly at the sight.
Huh. This feels oddly familiar.
And then, the pressure applied to her skull made her scream.
“Aaaaah! My head! That hurts! It hurts!”
“I told you, didn’t I? So many times. Please. Just try to act with some tact.”
Ludger’s voice, spoken with pauses at every word, carried a distinct undercurrent of anger.
He had given her so much advice during the civil war, but this rascal clearly hadn’t remembered a word of it.
“I-I was just so happy to see you again, that’s all!”
“....”
Ludger clicked his tongue and let go of her head.
Yekaterina teared up, gently rubbing her head from the lingering pain in her skull.
“What tyranny. If my hair gets damaged, I’m suing you.”
“I hope you go bald.”
“You have no shame! Do you know how much effort it takes to maintain this hair?”
“You don’t maintain it.”
“That’s true. I was just saying that. Honestly, I don’t understand why everyone’s so obsessed with appearances.”
“People call that the privilege of those who already have it.”
Yekaterina narrowed her eyes.
“You say that like it doesn’t apply to you.”
“What are you getting at?”
“...Well, I guess that’s just like you. Even this throbbing pain in my head is so familiar.”
“Since you’re used to it, maybe it’s time you reflect on your behavior.”
“It’s just my nature.”
“You’ve gotten even more shameless since we last met.”
Ludger chuckled. Yekaterina did the same.
“Hm. So is this your real self? Or a fake?”
Yekaterina asked that as she reached out and gently pinched Ludger’s cheek.
When Ludger pinched her back even harder, she surrendered immediately.
“Ow, ow! I give up! I surrender!”
“...Still as unruly as ever.”
“Ugh. My cheek’s tingling. So, are you going to answer my question or not?”
“What question?”
“How is it that you, who were supposed to be dead, are alive—and on top of that, working as a teacher at Seorn? You’re even super famous now! Did you come back to life or something?”
“...Seeing how I’m alive like this, wouldn’t it make more sense to assume I never died in the first place?”
What resurrection?
At Ludger’s incredulous tone, Yekaterina let out a soft, “Ah.”
As if it had never even occurred to her.
“...So you were completely convinced I was dead and still figured out who I was right away. Should I call that clever or just dumb?”
“Well, as long as the result’s good, right?”
“....”
When Ludger gave her a long look, Yekaterina hurriedly covered her head with both hands and took a step back.
Her face clearly showed that she feared another smack was coming.
Ludger looked at her with a mix of disbelief and resignation.
“Don’t be scared for nothing. I don’t do that anymore.”
“You’ve mellowed out quite a bit while I wasn’t looking.”
“I haven’t changed.”
“What? What do you mean, you haven’t changed! You’re way less violent than before. Ah—so does that mean you don’t hit the kids at Seorn?”
“...Do I look insane to you?”
Corporal punishment at Seorn?
At Ludger’s negative response, Yekaterina asked again in disbelief.
“You don’t? You were so ruthless with me!”
“That was during wartime. When lives are on the line, there’s no time for gentle coaxing.”
“So you’re saying you’re kind to the students now? No hitting?”
“I prefer to guide them with words.”
“My God.”
Yekaterina was genuinely shocked by that.
Of course, that was just Ludger’s personal perspective.
From the students’ point of view, being “gently guided” wasn’t much different from corporal punishment.
In fact, in some ways, the mental pressure was worse.
“So why did you fake your death and run off? You could’ve at least said goodbye before leaving!”
“The moment the civil war ended, the job was over. A mercenary with no assignment sticking around—what would be the point?”
“You’re not an ordinary mercenary. You were the key figure in winning the war. A hero who singlehandedly defeated the infamous Blizzard Thunder Battalion.”
“Hero, my ass. I was just a mercenary who took a job for money. And if I’d stayed, I’d be stuck being treated like that hero forever, with no choice but to rot in the Yuta Kingdom.”
“Was that what you didn’t want?”
“That kind of life wasn’t for me.”
At Ludger’s firm tone, Yekaterina looked visibly hurt.
“If that’s how you felt, you could’ve just told me. Or did you not trust me?”
“It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. You would’ve listened to what I had to say.”
“Then...”
“But would everyone else have?”
That shut Yekaterina up.
Machiavelli’s death had been a major loss within the Yuta Kingdom.
It was widely viewed as a national tragedy—losing such a hero after the war.
If it had been revealed he was still alive, would the kingdom have let him go?
Even if the queen agreed, her ministers would’ve done everything to keep him.
Even if Yekaterina had tried to persuade them, it would have taken a long time.
And during that time, Ludger would’ve only been pulled further away from his goals.
Ludger didn’t want that.
That’s why he faked his death and escaped as cleanly as possible.
He knew it would disappoint those left behind once the truth came out—but at the time, it had been the best option.
‘Still, I guess I’m lucky she didn’t get as angry as I feared.’
Maybe it was just Yekaterina being unusually easygoing.
Her joy at seeing him again clearly outweighed any feelings of betrayal or anger.
Even thinking that felt a little rude.
Her reaction was like a stray dog joyfully reuniting with its long-lost owner.
“In any case, I’d appreciate it if you kept this secret from others. I’ve explained enough about why I had to hide my identity and disappear.”
“So now, how did you end up as a teacher at Seorn? Was that your real identity all along?”
“There are complicated reasons for that.”
Yes. Complicated was putting it mildly.
He couldn’t exactly say he boarded the train to escape and got caught up in a terrorist attack.
How Yekaterina interpreted his vague answer, Ludger couldn’t tell—but she let out a little gasp and nodded.
“I knew it. It must be one of those secret missions you’re not allowed to talk about, right?”
“...What?”
“You don’t have to lie to me. From your mercenary days, you’ve clearly been part of some kind of covert special forces unit, right? Am I right?”
“....”
Well, it was true that he hid his identity, but it wasn’t exactly a secret mission.
If anything, it was more like something that would’ve landed him in prison if discovered.
But Yekaterina didn’t even entertain the possibility that Ludger had done anything criminal.
After all, he had fought alongside her during the war and was now a teacher nurturing young students at Seorn.
He even put his life on the line during the Kasarr Basin expedition.
From her perspective, the misunderstanding wasn’t all that strange.
‘Seems like she’s got some weird misconception.’
Ludger realized she was seeing him as some righteous agent of justice, but didn’t feel the need to correct her.
If she wanted to jump to that conclusion on her own, it saved him the trouble of explaining.
‘Besides, it’s not entirely wrong to say I used to be part of a secret task force.’
If he thought back to his time working with First Princess Aileen, it wasn’t even a lie.
With that, Ludger washed away any lingering guilt about deceiving her.
Not that there was much guilt to begin with.
“Still, it looks like you’re doing well.”
“Yes. There are still wounds from the civil war, but we’re recovering quickly. Did you know?”
“I’ve heard bits and pieces. Seems like things are stabilizing now.”
“We’ve reached a point where I can step away from the palace now and then. The internal reorganization is done. Now it’s time to branch out through diplomacy.”
“So that’s why you attended Mystic Night?”
“It’s a gathering of mages, isn’t it? No harm in making connections.”
Indeed, magic-related industries were a core sector in every nation.
Naturally, each country was desperate to build strong ties with such magic organizations.
The Old Mage Tower, the New Mage Tower, the School Alliance, and so on.
The Yuta Kingdom had such relationships as well.
The problem was that the one managing those relationships had been Prince Alexei.
After the war, the prince’s entire faction was purged, and the pipelines were severed.
That loss had been particularly painful for Yekaterina.
“Besides, as you know, the Yuta Kingdom has a harsh environment. It’s almost impossible to survive without the aid of magic.”
“But the Yuta Kingdom is also rich in natural resources. A lot of which interest mages.”
If the southern Fatima Dynasty was known for its mana-rich liquid magic stones...
Then the northern Yuta Kingdom was famous for having abundant natural resources overall.
Of course, being able to mine them was another matter entirely.
A post-war labor shortage and the land’s naturally harsh conditions were the issue.
All those deposits were essentially pie in the sky.
“The most important thing is having core mining techniques. And to do that, you obviously need magic. In a place where even steam engines freeze, regular industrial equipment is useless.”
“That makes sense.”
There was a good reason the head of a nation would attend Mystic Night in person instead of sending a subordinate.
That was how desperate Yekaterina was.
Outwardly, the Yuta Kingdom might appear stable, but its future was still uncertain.
“I tried my best to build good relations with other groups, but after this, the Old Mage Tower is out of the picture.”
“I’d say that’s for the better.”
“The ministers wouldn’t agree. To them, the New Mage Tower is just a splinter group of the old, and the School Alliance is just a bunch of scattered circles. The Old Mage Tower is still the most respected.”
“Because of its roots?”
“The ministers are all old men. When they think of mages, they only remember the glory days of the Old Mage Tower.”
That was precisely why the Old Mage Tower still held sway despite its outdated ways.
Even a toothless lion can still roar.
Even if it couldn’t keep up with the changing times, its past glory gave it enough presence.
Of course, if it failed to adapt, it would eventually become obsolete.
But for now, public perception of the Old Mage Tower wasn’t all that bad.
Especially among the older generation, who still firmly believed it was the pinnacle of magic.
And now, with things turning sour with the Old Mage Tower, Yekaterina couldn’t help but feel uneasy despite some relief.
“What should I do?”
“...Why are you asking me about national policy?”
“You could at least give me some advice. You’re a teacher at Seorn, aren’t you?”
This girl clearly didn’t know the difference between a teacher and a counselor.
Then again, it also meant she was desperate—and trusted Ludger.
“Still, thanks to your efforts during this incident, it seems like you’ve built a pretty solid relationship with the New Mage Tower and the School Alliance, right? Or am I wrong?”
“You’re right. I’ve developed enough of a ‘friendship’ with them. But still...”
“You feel it’s not enough. No one praises someone just for doing what they’re supposed to.”
Ludger pierced straight through Yekaterina’s worries.
And as surprised as she was, she also found it familiar.
‘He really hasn’t changed.’
He always acted like he could see straight into her heart.
Sure, part of it was that she was easy to read—but his insight was exceptional.
And Ludger always offered the best possible answer.
Whether or not she could accept it was her problem.
But he’d never been wrong.
“There’s still a way. Magic-related organizations aren’t limited to those few.”
“Are there more?”
“Did you forget where I’m currently working?”
“Oh.”
Yekaterina’s eyes widened.