Chapter 58
Missing (2)
“Place both hands over your chest where your heart is. Then take a deep breath in… and out.”
Isaac gave calm instructions, and Enette followed them.
“Relax. Breathe in deeply, and out deeply. Imagine fresh air gathering in your heart, not your lungs.”
Through Clara and Hilde, Enette had heard all sorts of bizarre stories about how nobles made love.
So she couldn’t help but wonder—what kind of method was this? What was Isaac trying to do?
Her mind wandered with all sorts of wild imaginings.
“Focus, Enette.”
“Ah—yes.”
She flinched at Isaac’s voice.
“Do you feel something gathering in your heart?”
“…I don’t know.”
“No need to rush. Slowly, calmly… try to sense it.”
Not even knowing what this was for, Enette focused on Isaac’s voice.
Gradually, the stray thoughts filling her mind scattered away with each exhale.
As her breathing grew deeper and slower, her mind became quiet.
It felt like drifting into sleep, yet her consciousness remained awake.
She was clearly in the same room as Isaac, yet it felt as if she were somewhere else entirely—completely isolated.
That sense of isolation made her feel smaller and smaller.
She was no longer on Isaac’s bed, nor in his bedroom.
Darkness.
A place without boundaries, stretching endlessly.
A calm, yet lonely emotion welled up inside her.
She realized—
in this vast darkness, she was alone.
Completely alone.
And that strange swelling sensation slowly tightened around her heart.
***
“Enette… can you feel it? Something gathering in your heart?”
Isaac’s voice echoed through the pitch-black void.
“…Yes. I can feel it.”
“Try moving what’s pooled in your heart. Let it flow to your fingertips.”
“How…?”
“You already know how.”
“…What?”
She was startled.
The swelling sensation gathered in her heart began to flow through her arm.
“Imagine your body as a stream. And your fingertips are a dam that holds that water for a moment.”
Following Isaac’s voice, she soon felt a tingling sensation in the fingers of her right hand.
“Now… open your eyes and look at your hand.”
Enette sat up abruptly.
She almost screamed.
“Y-young master…!”
A faint glow shimmered at her fingertips.
“Here.”
“…Yes?”
She looked at the handkerchief Isaac offered her, puzzled.
“Wipe it.”
“…Ah.”
Only then did she realize the wetness running down her cheeks.
Her eyes were filled with tears.
She hadn’t been thinking of anything sad.
And yet… she was crying.
“Why am I…?”
“My arm hurts.”
She wiped her tears repeatedly with the back of her hand, but they wouldn’t stop.
In the end, she had to use the handkerchief Isaac gave her.
“That’s part of what mages call the world of infinity.”
“…Mages?”
“The higher your level becomes, the more vast that space will feel—and the smaller your own existence will seem.”
“…What?”
“Each mage reacts to infinity differently. Some fall into despair, some feel emptiness, some feel sorrow. Some go mad, some wish to die. Because their own existence feels endlessly insignificant.”
“I… don’t understand what you’re saying…”
The words Isaac spoke were clearly in the common tongue, yet she couldn’t grasp them.
“You just condensed mana in your hand. Enette—I intend to make you a mage.”
“…What? Don’t joke. I’m just a maid…”
“A mere maid can’t control mana with her will. Not to the point where it’s visible to the naked eye.”
Enette stared into Isaac’s eyes.
He was serious.
“…Are you… serious?”
“If not, why would I call you here?”
The heart that had just calmed began to race again.
The feelings she had toward Isaac—whether affection or something else—blurred together.
But what she discovered now was desire.
A desire for magic.
A desire to become something greater.
“…Why me?”
“Because it’s you.”
***
Isaac answered, leaving out many things.
She had once saved him in his previous life with her words.
She had talent.
And he needed a trustworthy proxy.
There was no need to explain all that now.
But that simple answer carried countless possible meanings—
and it left Enette flustered.
Her flushed cheeks were proof enough.
“You can take pride in it. At the Royal Academy, students who succeeded in condensing mana within two hours received personal guidance from professors.”
“Two hours? Has it been that long?”
To her, it had felt like only ten or twenty minutes of light drowsiness.
***
Knock, knock.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Young master. It’s Carlson.”
“Wait outside for a moment. Enette.”
After speaking to Carlson, Isaac turned his gaze back to her.
“…Ah.”
Only then did Enette, still sitting dazed on the bed, blush deeply.
She realized she had completely misunderstood something.
Hurriedly, she put her maid uniform back on.
“…I’ll take my leave now.”
“Don’t forget that feeling you had today. You’ll need it for what comes next.”
“Yes. I’ll remember.”
Enette gave a quick, awkward bow and left the room.
***
“Come in.”
“Did you… do something to that maid?”
Carlson entered, glancing in the direction Enette had gone.
“She didn’t look well. I understand you’re trying to act like a degenerate, but turning everyone into enemies isn’t wise. Especially that maid—she’s been actively defending you against the rumors.”
“Don’t worry. I’m treating her well. More importantly—what is it?”
Isaac asked with a faint smirk.
It seemed he had been paying attention after all.
“Wolfgang and Herman. Madam Randolph’s children—they’ve gone missing.”
“They didn’t just wander off without saying anything?”
“It’s been over two days. Children aged ten and nine don’t just disappear in a city for that long.”
“Two days…? That is strange.”
Isaac nodded, then looked toward Enette.
***
Madam Randolph, the moment she arrived, spoke incoherently.
Her face was pale, her lips bluish.
Cold sweat covered her face.
After listening carefully, Isaac summarized it in a single sentence:
“So, the children who went out to do laundry two days ago… disappeared?”
“…Yes.”
Her voice was weak, as if all her strength had drained away.
“And the guards aren’t interested, and there are no witnesses who saw them?”
“…Yes. Please help me, young master.”
***
At her desperate plea, Isaac’s response was to pick up a fresh bottle of wine from the corner.
He uncorked it and filled his glass.
“Want a drink? It’s not quite like the ale you sell at the inn, but it has its own flavor. It might help you calm down.”
Madam Randolph stared at him blankly and shook her head.
“I understand you’re desperate. But I’m not my father—why are you asking me for help?”
“When you came to the inn… I recognized you immediately. You were discussing something important with Carlson.”
“And you pretended not to notice?”
“Yes. I thought it might trouble you.”
Having gathered herself somewhat, Madam Randolph answered his question.
“My husband… Ralph… trusted Carlson more than anyone in Winterband, second only to the Count. He said he was cold, but incredibly capable. So… if you’re someone Carlson follows, I thought you must possess that kind of strength as well.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m stronger than my father.”
“The Count… likely cannot act due to political reasons.”
At Madam Randolph’s words, Isaac fell silent for a moment.
It was a reasonable conclusion—just what one would expect from the wife of a former Winterband company commander.
The Count of Goethe must not interfere in the affairs of Bern.
Doing so could be interpreted as meddling in commerce—something the royal family had forbidden.
Even if she begged the Count to find her children, it would only put him in a difficult position.
But Isaac was different.
He bore the Goethe name, but he was not its representative.
In the end, to Madam Randolph, the most powerful and trustworthy person she could rely on right now… was Isaac.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the right time to help her.
Varis had been assassinated, and the marquis was already making moves.
Depending on which side Weissman chose, they would need to respond quickly.
Helping Madam Randolph now could introduce unwanted variables.
“What do you think?”
Isaac turned his gaze toward Carlson.
After all, it was Carlson who owed Randolph a personal debt.
“Madam Randolph… please understand that I have no choice but to say this.”
Carlson took a deep breath and spoke.
“According to you, it has already been two and a half days since Wolfgang and Herman disappeared. By the time we begin searching in earnest, it will have been three days. Whatever may have happened to them… that amount of time means…”
His words were cold.
But anyone with even a shred of reason left would have to admit he was right.
Bern was a city built by merchants.
Its guards were paid by the City Council.
It was difficult to expect any real sense of duty or responsibility from them.
The city was filled with vagrants and gangs.
A sizable black market existed.
In the southern districts and the sewage channels, murders and kidnappings were not uncommon.
Of course, Madam Randolph’s inn was located in the safer northern district—
but if, by chance, her children had wandered beyond it, anything could have happened.
“I… I know that too. But still… please, Carlson. As someone my husband trusted… at least find my children’s… their bodies… even just their bodies…”
“I will. I will, without fail. But… not now.”
Carlson replied, avoiding her gaze.
When they had confronted the paladins to stop the bishop’s scheme,
Carlson had not revealed the full extent of his abilities.
Because of that, Randolph had overextended himself—and died.
There was no doubt Carlson bore responsibility for Randolph’s death.
At the very least, he felt guilt.
But that guilt did not take precedence over his goal.
For him, being swayed by emotion was a luxury he could not afford.
The reason Carlson remained here—
the reason he stayed by Isaac’s side—
was to kill the man who had slaughtered his family.
That man was a noble of the kingdom, with three hundred elite soldiers and eleven knights under his command.
Carlson alone could not face him.
As Isaac was now, he didn’t even have a way to approach such a person.
So Goethe had to grow stronger, and Isaac had to build his power.
“We are at a critical crossroads. To search for Wolfgang and Herman, we would have to divide our forces—and we may fail in what we must accomplish.”
Carlson spoke in a deliberately dry tone.
The shadow over Madam Randolph’s face grew darker.
Carlson looked away.
“…Is that so? Then we’ll leave Carlson out of it.”
Isaac, who had been silently deep in thought, finally spoke.
“I’ll go with Bill and look for them. Madam, is your carriage ready?”
“Yes, but…”
“Then let’s go. It might not be too late yet.”
In Madam Randolph’s eyes—once sunk in despair—flickered both surprise and confusion.
“But… Carlson said this is an important time…”
“That may be true. But talking about ‘important timing’ while failing to protect a couple of kids… doesn’t sit right with me.”
Isaac ran a hand through his hair as he spoke.
It wasn’t something you’d expect to hear from a twelve-year-old reeking of alcohol.
“This is not the time to act on emotion. If we’re not careful—
“Carlson. Do I look emotional to you?”
Isaac’s voice turned cold.
For once, Carlson couldn’t face him as confidently as usual.
“Let’s be honest. Look me in the eyes and answer—don’t you want to help?”
“…You want to help too, don’t you?”
“You’re not a good man. But you’re not a bad one either. Just like me.”
With that, Isaac helped Madam Randolph to her feet.
“Get up. We’re going to find your children.”
Isaac left the room.
Madam Randolph glanced briefly at Carlson, then staggered after him.
“…So it’s this kind of situation again.”
Carlson muttered.
When he had been imprisoned for insubordination.
When they had stopped Bishop Levonius’s scheme.
When Bessimer and Isaac dueled in Vinfelt.
When Bessimer faced the Wolf King.
When Isaac declared he would assassinate Mayor Varis.
Each time, Carlson had been forced to question and doubt everything he thought he understood.
And each time—Isaac shattered that understanding.
Would it be the same this time?
As always, Isaac’s eyes were filled with certainty.
“…Hah.”
Carlson let out a quiet sigh.
Then he stepped forward, following after Isaac.