TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 6

Zeman stood in silence, his lips pressed together, exuding a frosty aura.

The mention of “father” evoked a slight reaction from him, but it also made him vaguely aware that Edward had set a trap. 

In the end, he only said, “Suit yourself.”

His cold tone marked the end of the conversation. He turned and left, showing no interest in continuing the exchange.

Edward rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

The situation seemed graver than expected—something significant had likely happened, something he wasn’t aware of.

If Zeman weren’t so adamant, Edward might have tried using his foresight to glimpse Zeman’s future.  

But unless it was to rescue or locate someone, he generally avoided prying into others’ destinies.

Ah, this younger brother is truly a handful.

As someone slightly older, Edward had always treated Zeman like a brother. At times like this, he found it impossible to turn a blind eye.

While Edward’s mind raced with concerns, his face still wore a nonchalant smile. He strode into the hunting lodge and sought out Albin.

“Little Albin, come! I’ll show you some magic!”

Albin rushed over eagerly, grabbing his hand with a face full of excitement.

On the way, Edward inquired about Albin’s knowledge of magic and was surprised to learn that Albin didn’t even know the basic elements of magic. He was a complete novice.

Edward ruffled Albin’s soft, fluffy hair as he explained, “There are seven elemental attributes of magic: Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, Lightning, Light, and Dark. Which element you’re most attuned to can only be determined by the temple’s tests.”

Albin thought about his own magical potential, which had been rated as average—similar to Zeman’s. He couldn’t help but feel his aptitude was mediocre.

“If no element likes me, does that mean I can’t learn magic?” he asked worriedly.

“Not necessarily,” Edward replied. “Even if your elemental affinity isn’t ideal, strong innate magical power can still allow you to specialize in raw magic. You could use it to reinforce your physical body or release magic as sword techniques. It’s a powerful path in its own right. Like this—”

A golden-green aura of magic began to ripple around Edward. The atmosphere changed instantly. Raising his arm, he conjured a crescent-shaped magical blade in front of his hand.

Albin held his breath as Edward swung his hand downward. The green crescent shot forward with a whooshing sound, carving a deep gouge into the ground like an invisible ax splitting the earth. Broken grass flew into the air, carried by a fierce gust of wind.

The air was thick with the scent of fresh grass. Albin’s eyes sparkled as he stared at Edward.

“Amazing!”

“Is this really not magic?” he asked.

Edward smiled confidently. “Of course not. This is just the manifestation of raw magical power. The advantage is that it doesn’t require incantations, but the downside is its limited range and fewer applications. With a weapon, its power can be even greater, making it ideal for close combat and defense.”

Albin couldn’t wait to ask, “Then what does magic look like?”

Edward explained, “Magic, strictly speaking, is the manipulation of the seven elements in nature using one’s magical power. It allows for feats that raw magic cannot achieve, such as—”

As part of his demonstration, Edward began to chant.

Albin watched with wide eyes full of anticipation.

Then, he heard Edward’s operatic incantation.

“Oh, my dearest beloved, I must offer you my deepest praise and admiration. I long for you. Your smile revives all life; your gaze is clearer than spring water. Your beautiful figure is forever etched in my heart. You are the harbor of my soul, the hope of my spirit, the source of my courage and strength—”

As he chanted with fervor, his golden hair fluttered in an unseen wind, and an invisible force began to gather around him.

But Albin’s expression froze.

What…what is happening?  

This doesn’t seem like the magic he had imagined.

Standing beside Edward, he felt as if ants were crawling all over his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

Edward continued his rhapsodic chant for what felt like an eternity before finally concluding:

“Bloom, flowers of love!”

As soon as he finished, the ground trembled slightly. A golden-green light spread across the grass. The previously gouged earth healed as if time had reversed. Sparse patches of grass sprouted thick vines that grew rapidly, blooming into buds. With a gentle breeze, the buds burst into full bloom.

In an instant, Edward and Albin were surrounded by a sea of roses. Tens of thousands of roses swayed gently, their soft petals forming a crimson tapestry. The air was filled with their intoxicating fragrance, creating a dreamlike scene.

However, all Albin could think was: Will I have to recite something like that if I learn magic?

For some reason, he suddenly felt, Maybe I shouldn’t learn magic after all.

Cautiously, he asked, “Do all magic spells require chanting for that long?”

“Not necessarily,” Edward said, clearly pleased with his performance. “My magic is a bit unique. As long as I channel the energy of ‘love,’ I can chant for as long as I want.”

He sighed, looking aggrieved. “I don’t know why, but every time I start chanting, people rudely interrupt me. Don’t they know it’s improper to cut off a magician mid-chant?”

Edward patted Albin’s head approvingly. “You’re such a good kid.” Then he bent down and lifted Albin out of the thorny rose bushes.

Albin was stunned.

What? He could have stopped earlier?!

“Different from others?” Albin suddenly felt a spark of hope.

Edward pointed at himself and explained, “I’m from the Temple of Love. The magic I use is Love Magic, which draws its power from one’s beloved things. Everyone’s source of love is different. For example, some people love stones and dedicate their lives to collecting all kinds of them. My source of power, however, is love itself.”

Albin was struck by the revelation.

No wonder his incantation earlier sounded like a love letter.

Leaning against Edward’s shoulder, Albin thought for a moment and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that kind of ‘love.’”

“Love Magic can create miracles, but if your heart holds no love, it cannot be cast. It’s difficult to master; some people never find their lifelong love and may even stray onto dark paths or become embittered by love.”

Albin thought about it. If he tried to learn this magic, the embarrassment was one thing—but just starting seemed impossible.

“What about the others, like Mr. Zeman? What kind of magic does he use?”

“He uses Divine Magic. By praying to the gods, they receive corresponding magical power. It’s easier to learn, but it requires unwavering faith.”

Albin frowned. That sounded hard too.

He didn’t believe in gods, knew nothing about them, and had already rubbed the Sun God the wrong way upon arrival.

One path required love, the other faith.

“Are there any other types of magic?”

Edward shook his head, placing Albin gently onto the grass.

As he set him down, his eyes fell on the burn on Albin’s ankle.

“You’re burned?” Edward said in surprise.

Albin’s hands clenched the seams of his pants, avoiding Edward’s gaze.

He didn’t regret getting burned to save someone, but he feared Uncle Edward might dislike him for it.

Thinking about Edward’s warm introduction to magic earlier and how his face might twist in disgust, Albin felt a pang in his chest.

Did other burn victims feel this kind of sadness too?

To his surprise, Edward didn’t show even a hint of disdain. He only frowned and said, “Seriously, why didn’t Zeman heal you? This isn’t a minor issue—letting others see this could cause trouble.”

Calmly, Edward knelt and cast a spell, chanting briefly, “Restitutio.”

He didn’t care whether Zeman hesitated due to the Sun Temple’s doctrines. He had no interest in the Sun God and certainly no qualms about burns.

A green magical circle appeared, and in moments, the ugly burn vanished.

Albin stared in disbelief, lifting his pant leg to see only smooth, unscarred skin.

“Thank you, Uncle Edward!” Albin beamed with joy, grabbing Edward’s sleeve. “Uncle, since you can use healing magic, can you heal Mr. Zeman? He wanted to heal me earlier but couldn’t because he’s injured. His old wounds keep acting up, and he seems to be in pain.”

Edward’s expression turned serious.

—

Hoofbeats echoed outside the window. Zeman looked up and saw Edward returning with Albin.

It seemed to be Albin’s first time on horseback; his face was flushed with excitement. Edward helped him down and watched as the boy ran into the hunting lodge, grabbed some carrots, and dashed back out to feed the horse.

Zeman frowned slightly, catching the scent of roses wafting from Albin.

In just one afternoon, the two had grown remarkably close.

This was good.

Edward’s earlier words replayed in Zeman’s mind.

Though Edward was occasionally flippant, he was fundamentally reliable. The Temple of Love’s open and accepting nature meant he wouldn’t discriminate against burns or care if Albin believed in gods. If Edward could adopt Albin, it would be ideal.

After all, Edward wasn’t just the Temple of Love’s High Priest but also a prince of the Rose Kingdom—an unparalleled choice in identity, power, and character.

Albin had saved him twice—once from a fire, once from a curse. It was Zeman’s responsibility to ensure the boy’s safety and remove him from the dangers Zeman himself attracted.

Afterward, Zeman would face the curse alone.

The thought of the desolate sea of cursed magic made Zeman lower his gaze wearily.

—

Dinner was rabbit stew with bread, but the rabbit legs were cooked separately. Skewered on sticks, they were roasted to a golden perfection.

Edward handed a rabbit leg to Albin with a bright smile. “I promise you’ve never tasted anything like this!”

Skeptical, Albin took a bite—and his eyes lit up in astonishment.

The rabbit leg was brushed with honey, its surface slightly caramelized. Each bite released a burst of rich juices mingled with sweet, fragrant honey.

He devoured the entire leg, patting his full belly in satisfaction.

“That was amazing! Who made this? The honey glaze was genius!”

Edward glanced at Zeman but said nothing, his smile mysterious.

Of course, it was someone from the Sun Temple.

The Sun Temple revered fire for its purifying qualities and was particularly skilled in roasting food. As for the honey? Likely compensation from someone who’d failed to bring back game.

Following Edward’s gaze, Albin also looked at Zeman.

He remembered Edward’s words earlier: Mr. Zeman didn’t actually dislike him; he was just awkward and misunderstood.

Whether true or not, Edward had told him to verify it himself, not to stew in silence like Zeman.

Albin tilted his head, looking Zeman straight in the eye.

“Mr. Zeman… do you dislike me?”

“No.” Zeman’s tone didn’t change, but his reply was immediate, as if he’d been waiting for the chance to say it.

“Great! I misunderstood. I thought you wanted to abandon me,” Albin said, breaking into a radiant smile. “Mr. Zeman, your cooking is amazing! I want to eat it again next time!”

Zeman’s gaze softened.

—

After dinner, Albin insisted on doing the dishes, just as he had the previous night. The one who cooked shouldn’t have to clean.

Later, the adults prepared warm water for Albin to bathe in the small lodge while they stepped outside to talk.

Edward wasted no time, casting several high-level healing spells on Zeman.

“I heard from Albin that you have some chronic condition affecting your magic,” Edward said gravely, scrutinizing Zeman as if trying to uncover the truth.

“I’ll handle it,” Zeman replied curtly, making it clear he wasn’t about to explain further. But the admission alone confirmed his problem remained.

Edward clenched his fists, tempted to punch Zeman in the face.

This was just like him—shouldering everything alone, never asking for help.

Biting back his frustration, Edward asked, “Where’s your oath-bound knight? At the very least, they should be protecting you in your current state.”

“He’s dead too,” Zeman said flatly.

Edward fell silent, swallowing his words.

“…I’m sorry.”

Taking a deep breath, Edward sneered, “Fine. You never tell me anything and just dump a kid on me while you deal with whatever mess you’ve gotten into. Truly fitting of humanity’s strongest—nothing’s too much for you.”

This time, Zeman replied, “I’m sorry.”

“Should I expect to hear about your death next?”

“…Not yet.” He hadn’t figured out how to die yet.

Edward sighed in relief before asking, “So you’re not going back to the Sun Temple?”

Zeman confirmed as much.

Edward crossed his arms. “I’ll fulfill my promise, but you’ll have to bring the boy to me yourself.”

He continued, “I asked Albin about it. This was your plan from the start. I’m in Thorn City to deal with our temple’s internal problems. You know how dangerous it gets when people from the Temple of Love lose their way. Which is worse: you keeping the boy or me bringing him along to hunt them?”

Zeman considered.

He couldn’t let Edward take Albin into unpredictable situations with dangerous fanatics. Magical beasts could be understood; those zealots couldn’t.

But here…

Edward added, “I only need three months. Take your time, but I’ve foreseen us meeting again in three months.”

Three months wasn’t long, but it was enough. If Edward’s foresight was accurate, Zeman wouldn’t fully succumb to the curse within that time frame.

And Edward truly was the best choice.

Zeman nodded. “Understood.”

Edward smiled as if afraid Zeman might change his mind and immediately mounted his horse.

“No time for goodbyes—tell my future son I said farewell,” he called, waving as he left. “And don’t you dare hand him over to anyone else! Remember, bring him to the Rose Kingdom in exactly three months—not a day earlier!”

When Albin finished his bath and opened the door, he caught sight of Edward’s retreating figure.

“Why did Uncle Edward leave? He promised to tell me a story tonight.”

Zeman stepped back inside. “He has a nearby mission. You’ll see him again later.”

“Oh…” Albin hesitated.

Seeing his reluctance, Zeman paused and asked, “Do you like him a lot?”

Albin nodded. “Uncle Edward healed my burns. Did he cure your old wounds too?”

Healing magic couldn’t dispel the Sun God’s curse.

But seeing Albin’s hopeful gaze, Zeman hesitated briefly before turning away. “Yes.”

“That’s wonderful!” Albin hugged his waist tightly, letting out a long sigh of relief, as if he had been healed himself and was genuinely happy.  

Zeman looked at the child in front of him and asked slowly, “If you like him, would you want him to be your father? He’s actually a prince of the Rose Kingdom, and he would protect you well.”  

“Huh?” Albin blinked in confusion. “That’s amazing! But even though I like him, I never had that thought.”  

He tilted his head back to look at Zeman, his eyes curving into a smile.  

“My favorite is still Mr. Zeman. Can I ask Mr. Zeman to be my father instead?”

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