RODH Chapter 17

17.

“What kind of compensation do you seek?”

Seor was already displeased by Alvis’s overwhelming pheromone shower, but his composed demeanor irritated him even more.

“Is compensation what matters right now? You subjected an omega who will soon become the Crown Princess to a pheromone shower, and yet you ask this?”

“An omega, you say. Is that truly the best way His Highness can refer to his mate?”

“What?”

Despite Seor’s sudden burst of anger, Alvis remained unshaken and continued speaking calmly.

“I won’t quibble over your choice of words. If compensation is necessary, I will offer what is permissible as the Tower Lord. And…”

“And?”

Alvis’s gaze shifted once more to Ian, who still lay unconscious.

“When your mate wakes up, I will ensure a full apology and sufficient compensation.”

“You’d better keep your word,” Seor growled.

“I swear it on the name of the Tower Lord,” Alvis said solemnly.

After the tense exchange with Seor concluded, Alvis turned to greet another guest who had traveled far to see him—Nevan.

“A guest from the North. It’s been a long journey,” Alvis remarked, his tone softening.

“I saw you once when I was a child. Back then, you were always by your master’s side,” Nevan replied, his voice calm but laced with nostalgia.

Alvis tilted his head slightly, then nodded in recognition.

Ah, yes. Nevan was referring to the time when he, as a young boy, had visited while Alvis worked like a slave under his master, Kundus Duin.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that the little boy I saw back then would grow up like this,” Alvis said, firmly shaking the hand Nevan offered.

“You don’t seem to have aged a day since then. What happened to your master? I haven’t heard any news of his passing,” Nevan inquired, his expression curious.

“Magicians don’t age like ordinary people. As for my master, he decided to leave on a journey. He said he’d grown tired of managing this Mage Tower.”

After enduring 28 long years of grueling work under that eccentric old man, Alvis considered his departure to be a stroke of luck.

Although for Nevan, even that old master was tied to memories of his father.

“If you ever meet him again, tell him I’d like to treat him to some roasted meat,” Nevan said with a faint smile.

“I’ll be sure to do so. He has an unhealthy obsession with bear meat, so that might work. But what brings you here?” Alvis asked, his curiosity piqued.

Nevan explained that he was here to purchase a potion capable of destroying a monster’s nest at its source.

“That potion comes at a high price. I trust you’ve brought enough to cover it?” Alvis inquired.

“Of course. Klain,” Nevan replied.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Klain said, stepping forward and placing a heavy pouch on the desk with a resounding thud.

The bag was filled to the brim with gold coins.

“I thought the monsters had calmed down recently. Was I mistaken?” Alvis asked.

“No, you’re correct. However, as the population in my territory grows, I want to be prepared for any unforeseen crises,” Nevan explained.

“That makes sense,” Alvis acknowledged. He turned to one of his disciples and instructed them to retrieve the pre-made potion.

“It’s sealed in a reinforced cylinder, so it won’t break under ordinary impact,” Alvis assured.

“Thank you,” Nevan said as he accepted the potion.

With the transaction complete, Alvis’s gaze inevitably wandered back to Ian, who still lay unconscious. Nevan noticed the deep sorrow in Alvis’s eyes.

It was a look only someone who had lost someone precious could possess.

Alvis Duin lost his mate, Tian Merceau, during a magical experiment. After that, he withdrew from the world, cut off most interactions, and became the brooding Blue Mage trapped in this tower, Nevan recalled.

The Tower Lord rarely appeared unless ordered by the emperor. And yet, what he had done to the young duke of House Ruben was entirely out of character, conflicting with everything Klain had mentioned earlier.

Alvis had looked euphoric, overwhelmed with joy.

“Tian. I’ll never leave your side again.”

From his behavior, it was clear that Ian Pearl Ruben was bound to face difficulties because of this misunderstanding. Though, of course, it was none of Nevan’s concern.

“Shall we leave now, Your Grace? We still have a long journey ahead,” Klain said, pulling Nevan out of his thoughts.

Nevan nodded. The transaction was complete, and there was no reason to linger in the Mage Tower.

At that moment, Seor shouted, “Ian!”

The young duke of House Ruben had regained consciousness.

Ian felt as if he were floating on a cloud, his mind hazy and detached.

“Here, drink this. It’s a potion to purge the pheromones,” said the boy in the robe, offering him a bitter liquid.

Ian gulped down the potion and was jolted awake by its sharp, unpleasant taste.

“Ugh,” Ian groaned.

“You mustn’t spit it out, or it won’t work,” the boy warned quickly.

“Isn’t there anything that tastes better? Ian Pearl Ruben, are you alright?” Seor asked, frowning at the situation.

“Bitter medicine is good for you,” the boy quipped back. “Don’t spit it out, my lord!”

The bickering between Seor and the boy only added to Ian’s headache. To silence them both, Ian swallowed the potion in one big gulp and said, “Where’s Bain?”

“Your servant is lying over there,” Seor replied, pointing to a corner of the room.

“Bain!” Ian cried, trying to rise quickly, but his legs gave out beneath him, and he nearly collapsed again.

Alvis caught him just in time, steadying him. “Are you alright?”

“Ah… yes,” Ian muttered, still a bit dazed.

Alvis seemed taller than Ian remembered from his fragmented memories of the past. His sharp gaze briefly flickered toward Bain, who lay still on a cot, before returning to Ian.

“He’ll wake up in about an hour,” Alvis reassured him.

An hour? He was hit with a direct magical attack, wasn’t he? Ian’s doubt was evident on his face, but Alvis’s piercing blue eyes were calm and steady, as if to ease his worries.

“There’s no need to be concerned. There won’t be any aftereffects from the attack,” Alvis said confidently.

“How can you be so sure? Bain is a dear friend to me,” Ian pressed, his voice filled with urgency.

“I only used the wind to knock him away. No bones were broken, nor were any internal organs damaged,” Alvis explained, recounting what his disciple had reported in detail.

Only then did Ian feel a sense of relief. He let Alvis help him back into his seat but scanned the room cautiously. His eyes landed on the pouch placed beside his bed.

Ian checked its contents thoroughly before turning to Alvis. “Tower Lord, may I ask for a favor?”

Alvis didn’t respond, simply staring at Ian intently.

“It’s not something I’m forcing upon you. It’s just… I need your permission for something,” Ian continued, his tone growing more hesitant under Alvis’s unwavering gaze.

“If required, I’ll provide additional gold coins on top of the jewels—” Ian’s words faltered when he noticed Alvis’s tears.

“Tower Lord?”

Ian asked, startled, fumbling for the pouch as if searching for a way to comfort him.

However, as Ian moved to stand, he realized his jacket must have slipped off when he collapsed—his handkerchief was nowhere to be found.

He’s crying. I have to give him something, Ian thought desperately, scanning his surroundings. His eyes landed on the sleeve of his shirt.

Just as Nevan had once done, Ian decided to rip his sleeve to offer Alvis a piece of cloth.

But the sleeve was tougher than he expected.

Nevan tore his in one motion. How on earth did he do that?

As Ian wrestled with his sleeve, Alvis wiped his tears and spoke.

“I’ll do it. I’ll make it for you,” he said softly.

“Are you serious?” Ian asked, his eyes widening.

“I swear on the name of the Tower Lord,” Alvis replied solemnly.

“Thank you so much!” Ian exclaimed, his relief evident.

“But there is a condition,” Alvis added.

“A condition…?” Ian repeated, his voice uncertain.

At the mention of a condition, not only did Seor’s attention snap to them, but even Lucian, who had been idly observing the room from a corner, turned to focus on the conversation.

“Once a week, you must come to the Mage Tower to see me,” Alvis said.

At those words, Seor shot to his feet, his expression thunderous.

“What an utterly ridiculous demand!” Seor roared in anger.

While I could understand Seor’s fury, I was more puzzled by Alvis’s intentions, so I turned to him and asked, “Why? What’s the reason for this?”

“It’s personal,” Alvis replied curtly.

“You don’t have to agree to such nonsense. The imperial family has plenty of mages at its disposal—” Seor began.

“I’ll do it,” I interrupted.

“What?” Seor looked at me, completely baffled.

Ignoring his shock, I made the deal with Alvis. If I turned to Seor for help, there was a chance Count Gillat might catch wind of it, and that was something I needed to avoid.

I tried to pacify Seor with kind words. “Think of it this way, Your Highness. Spending time in the Mage Tower will help me study and be of great use to the empire in the future.”

“Are you seriously forgetting what Alvis did to you? Allowing another alpha to shower their pheromones on you, their mate—!” Seor began to rant again, his temper flaring.

I sighed, listening to his tirade before calmly addressing his complaints.

“First, that wasn’t my fault. Second, the Tower Lord has apologized and promised fair compensation. Third, I’m fine. So what exactly is your issue?”

Seor looked at me with a mixture of frustration and hurt before muttering something about needing to clear his head and storming out of the room.

As Peter moved to follow him, I casually remarked, “His Highness seems to have been quite irritable lately. Perhaps offer him warm chamomile tea more often.”

Peter gave me an incredulous look before stepping outside.

With the two most troublesome alphas gone, all that was left was to wait for Bain to regain consciousness.

Alvis, Nevan, and Lucian stayed in the room, their presence feeling much heavier than the alphas who had left. These three were not as easy to read, which made the atmosphere all the more stifling.

At one point, Klain tried to convince Nevan to leave, but Nevan dismissed him with a calm remark. “We’ll remain here until the Crown Prince returns. Besides, unforeseen incidents could occur again.”

“There won’t be any more incidents,” Alvis said confidently.

Nevan, however, didn’t seem convinced. I couldn’t blame him—I felt the same way.

How could anyone trust a man who mistook me for his dead mate, got drunk, and showered me with pheromones?

I remembered the Alvis from my second life, who had looked at me with nothing but disdain.

Why was he looking at me with such sorrow now, when back then he couldn’t even hide his disgust?

Was it because I hadn’t lived as well as Tian had?

Ha. If that were the case, then Alvis was just as much of a scumbag as I had thought.

“Once a week, huh?” I murmured, thinking over his condition. If Alvis could impose terms, then so could I—terms that might help calm Seor’s fury.

“I have a condition as well,” I said.

Alvis raised his eyebrows slightly, as though surprised that I would dare propose my own terms.

“And what is it?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Allow me to record everything I see and hear within the Mage Tower,” I stated firmly.