Sage 31

“Wow, being born a prince must be nice.”

“Hey, why are you lying on our Irkus’s bed? Do you want to die?”

“No, Irkus isn’t saying anything, so why are you making a fuss, Great Sage?”

I kicked Tristan, who had flopped onto the bed wide enough for three grown men to lie down on, sending him tumbling to the floor.

I’m making a fuss because Irkus isn’t saying anything. I grabbed Irkus by the shoulders and nagged him, telling him not to let just anyone get on his bed.

“This kid is too kind for his own good.”

“Who? Irkus?”

“Would it be you? Hey! If you came here as escorts, get out of the room! You’re supposed to be on guard duty, on guard!”

At my words about Irkus being kind, Tristan and the other two made faces. It was a look that said, “What nonsense is this?”

It seemed like Tristan was about to open his mouth and retort, but I had no intention of listening. I’ve seen Irkus for at least a few months longer than those guys, so I knew him better than they did.

The three Red Hawk mercenaries eventually left the room with their lips stuck out instead of complaining further. Their complaining tone that blamed me for being so gullible as a Great Sage was ridiculous.

Gullible, my foot. How could a child like Irkus deceive me?

It’s absurd that these adults are making dubious faces at the mention of a child being kind, when they should be praising him and guiding him down the right path. The world has really gone to hell. I should have died before seeing this.

As soon as Tristan closed the door behind him, I collapsed onto the bed. Irkus hesitantly approached and sat down next to me.

I pulled Irkus’s arm and made him lie down on the bed with me.

“I just said not to let anyone on your bed, yet you’re silent again.”

“…You’re not just anyone.”

“Then what am I?”

“Someone I need.”

“So clever. Look at you using my words against me.”

“It’s not wrong.”

Even though I’ve known Irkus for a long time, this was the first time I had lain down next to him like this.

Even when we lived together in the Southern Forest atelier, I gave Irkus his own room, and we used separate rooms while we were in Carabel.

There was no particular reason for using separate rooms. We each had our own privacy and enough space, so there was no need to stick together. Neither the Southern Forest nor Kaman were places I needed to be wary of.

“I’ll be in the room right next door.”

“Do you hate sharing a room? It’s more efficient this way.”

“How can I share a room with His Highness? In this rigid hierarchical society.”

“I’m the prince in this hierarchical society.”

“Who knows what kind of nasty rumors will spread. The next room is enough.”

However, the Imperial Palace is a different story.

Irkus was a minor who hadn’t even had a proper debutante ball. Of course, he has a more mature side than most adults, so even I sometimes forget that Irkus is really just a young human. Seventeen is really young, but Irkus’s youthful charm disappeared quickly.

But a human’s outward appearance is just a shell. Irkus’s core was a child who didn’t know the ways of the world and had lived his life being told what to do.

Such a child still needed a strong guardian. If Gilbert had heard this, he would have criticized me, saying, “Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?” But this wasn’t the Southern Forest atelier but within the Robain Empire’s Imperial Palace, so there wasn’t a single trace of Gilbert’s branches here.

“Do you really think I’m dangerous?”

“Of course. You’re a child. Children are dangerous because you never know what they’ll do if you let them loose.”

“You think I’m strong for a child.”

“Do you think I’m worried that you’ll get hurt? I’m worried that if you lose your temper, you’ll destroy things without a second thought. Sigh, how did a kind child like you end up with a teacher like me…”

“If you tell me not to cause trouble, I won’t.”

“Okay. I’ll be the one destroying things, so just stay put. Don’t get your hands dirty… if you need anything, just tell me.”

“I don’t think overprotective is the wrong word here.”

“What does Tristan, that bastard, know?”

Irkus’s eyebrows drooped. Perhaps because we were lying down facing each other, his sullen expression was very visible. I didn’t mean to scold him, but I ended up making the child feel down.

Overprotective? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not protecting Irkus right now; I’m extending the lives of the future imperial figures who will be buzzing around Irkus.

Irkus is incredibly strong. This was an undeniable fact. Even I’m not confident that I can subdue him at once in a one-on-one fight.

Since there’s a difference in how long we’ve lived, I can be sure of my victory for now, but if asked whether I can subdue Irkus ‘without getting hurt’, the answer is ‘no’. I would have to use several attack spells, so if I were to fight Irkus, there’s a high chance that a third of the continent would be blown away.

In the first place, I came to the Imperial Palace without causing lightning strikes and without committing acts of unfilial piety to ensure a natural succession so that there would be no problems with Irkus’s reign after I die. I can’t cause such disasters.

So, it’s difficult to clean up if Irkus attacks or kills someone without a plausible reason. It’s better that I’m the one who destroys and smashes things since I’m unaffiliated. Irkus’s affiliation and status were too clear.

If he’s already this strong at this age, how much stronger will he become when he grows up? Even for a fantasy novel protagonist, this was a disruption of balance. What’s the point of adjusting the number of mages and witches to maintain the balance of the world? The protagonist is an overpowered character who can destroy the world.

So that’s why I said I’m worried if he’s left on the loose.

Even I, who have no plans to destroy the world, no desire to unify the continent, and nothing I want more than to die, am treated like a walking nuclear bomb.

From an ordinary person’s point of view, they don’t know when, where, or how I will use attack magic, so it’s natural for them to see me as a walking natural disaster. If an individual’s strength exceeds the average by too much, they inevitably become feared.

So Irkus also needs to be careful if he knows how strong he is. Humans are fragile creatures who can die if they get hit by a spell used by mistake.

When Irkus had a clear understanding that ‘killing is bad!’, this kind of strength wasn’t a big problem. But now, Irkus has become desensitized to killing people enough to casually accept assassination requests, and knows how to abandon his humanity for the sake of his purpose.

This is my fault. I raised him that way. There is a reason for the saying, ‘One who stays near ink gets stained black’. What’s the use of the child being white jade? I’m the ink. It’s too late to regret it now, but I’m terrible at teaching.

“No. Minor accidents are okay, but make sure they’re accidents that can be cleaned up.”

“How far is ‘cleanable’?”

“First, don’t use magic unless you absolutely have to. If you can’t win an argument, just pretend you didn’t hear anything.”

“And?”

“Even if someone provokes me, hold back. Don’t draw your sword if you can avoid it. No killing. No breaking limbs, no lightning strikes, even if it’s not killing.”

“But you do…”

“Are you the same as me? I’m the Great Sage, and you’re the Third Prince. If you’re feeling wronged, live for 400 years and become the Great Sage yourself.”

Having entered the Imperial Palace after threatening the emperor, Irkus and I were now destined to jump into the political arena.

They probably wouldn’t even bat an eye at Tristan, who seemed like a mere minion. They wouldn’t even consider him a threat. Politics is more about how well you can wag your tongue and how shameless you can be than how well you can wield a sword.

Since I hadn’t brought Adelaide, who was familiar with politics and could be helpful in information warfare, I would have to handle almost all the political fights. I’m second to none when it comes to shamelessness.

Irkus is too kind to be talented at cunning political tricks and deception. He’s a child whose thoughts are all over his face. How can I make him do such a difficult job? Tristan might click his tongue and say I’m just blinded by my affection for my disciple, but as his teacher, I have a duty.

The problem is that politics is never clean. Just by recalling the South Korean National Assembly, one can quickly realize this fact. Even in modern society, politicians turn the National Assembly into a martial arts arena, and how much worse would it be in this discriminatory fantasy world? There is an army of people who find my black hair and black eyes irritating, rather than being interested in the fact that I’m a Great Sage.

“It’s okay to give a beating or two to those who badmouth you, but just ignore those who badmouth me. Got it?”

Of course, it’s understandable that I would be the subject of gossip. I’m the Great Sage who never showed his face when all sorts of dignitaries came to the Southern Forest and asked me to help them with their war. But suddenly, I appeared as the teacher of the long-lost Third Prince.

I could clearly imagine the rumors that would circulate. That I, a Great Sage in seclusion, had suddenly become obsessed with power, aiming to make the Third Prince a puppet ruler and become the regent myself. Of course, all sorts of personal attacks would follow the political criticism.

They would nitpick everything, from my hair and eye color, unclear affiliation and origin, to being an immortal. No matter how much time has passed, humans are consistent. What’s the point of studying history? They just forget everything and repeat the same mistakes.

Of course, there will be exceptions, but most of them will be foaming at the mouth and eager to bite me. They might put on a show of being refined. But a rabid dog pretending to be refined is still a dog at its core.

“Why don’t you answer?”

Irkus didn’t respond to my advice, even though it wasn’t like I asked him to do anything difficult. And he was showing his displeasure openly.

I reached out and firmly rubbed the space between Irkus’s eyebrows to prevent him from frowning. He could have leaned his head back to avoid my hand, but Irkus just looked at me without flinching, even though the space between his eyebrows was turning red.

“You already know that I… won’t be able to stand idly by and watch them attack you because of me.”

“…..”

“Even though you already know.”

…Seriously.

You can never predict what teenagers will do. I let out a deep sigh.

How could I not know? I’ve lived for 400 years? To not be able to recognize the emotions of others after living this long would make me a great fool, not a Great Sage. Even a toad becomes a divine creature after living for a hundred years; would a human be any different?

I spread my fingers that had been rubbing his forehead, covered Irkus’s face with my palm, and pushed him away.

“What do I know?”

“Yoo-an.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Being oblivious only works for a day or two. As Irkus gets older and sees handsome men and beautiful women who live on a similar timeline, the affection he feels towards me now would be nothing more than admiration.

If I let my feelings be shaken by the courtship of a newly hatched duckling, my life as an immortal might be ruined.

I was already having a mental breakdown just thinking about dying. If I can’t die, I have to watch him die. Just thinking about it made me shudder.

“You know I like you.”

Irkus’s faint breath touched my palm.

“No, I don’t.”

“…..”

“Don’t forget your place.”

If we don’t maintain this distance, this shallow relationship will only harm us both.

A relationship where there’s only loss and no gain can’t last long. We need to maintain an appropriate distance for a smooth separation after spending as much time together as possible.

I’m a stranger, and Irkus is the protagonist.

We can’t forget this. I am immortal, and Irkus is mortal. We were born in different worlds and live in different times.

“This is for the best. Understand?”

Irkus closed his mouth. I could still feel his shallow breath on my palm. His purple eyes, visible between my fingers, shone gloomily.