The Runaway Maid is Loved by the Archmage - Chapter 28
The Archmage’s tower was silent.
A vast, tranquil space surrounded by immense magic circles, reagents, and magical materials—so wide, yet the only living being present was the Archmage himself. That was the Archmage’s tower. Due to the barrier surrounding it, no one could enter or leave without the Archmage’s permission, regardless of how noble their status might be.
Bang!
A massive vortex of blue mana, swirling within a grand magic circle, suddenly erupted with a deafening sound before scattering into nothingness.
At the center of it all, the Archmage sat alone in quiet stillness.
The beautiful man, his eyes closed, slowly lifted his eyelids. His long eyelashes quivered faintly.
“Roina….”
He bit his lip in frustration, then struck the ground with his fist. That moment—when he had first seen her by the well—he should have taken her away, disregarding all laws and regulations. He had never expected the Imperial Crown Prince to be so far gone, so utterly obsessed that he would disregard official standing.
He should have foreseen just how dangerous the imperial family was.
Regret was always too late, no matter how soon it came. Lutan ran a hand through his long, black hair, wiping away the sweat gathering at the nape of his neck. Even so, there had been a gain. She had finally discovered the “seed” he had left behind.
A slow curve formed at the corner of his lips. Today, she had successfully ignited his seed—flawlessly. She had never learned magic before, yet she wielded it as if it were instinct.
It was proof that his eyes had not been mistaken.
She was undoubtedly the Primordial Star, the ruler of magic.
—‘Visitor detected. Request for an audience.’
Lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed the presence watching him. A telepathic intrusion, a magic spirit flickering in various colors.
Though it had no consciousness of its own and existed solely to carry out commands, he still referred to it as a spirit. Perhaps because it had guarded the tower through countless ages, witnessing the time of every Archmage.
Or perhaps because it had been created by the Primordial Star herself. Lutan bit his lip. The Archmage inherited the memories of his predecessor.
Though he and the previous Archmage were separate beings, they shared one singular purpose: To reclaim the Primordial Star. It was an unrelenting fate, inscribed into the lives of all Archmages. And through all the countless ages, not once had they succeeded.
—‘Decline audience?’
The spirit flickered more vibrantly, as if trying to draw his attention. At times like this, it almost seemed… irritated. Lutan raised an eyebrow slightly and answered curtly.
“Who is requesting an audience?”
—‘Maili Amasto.’
The response was swift and concise.
At that name, Lutan fell into deep thought. His knowledge of noble families was at least a century outdated. A hundred years ago, Amasto had been an utterly insignificant house. And yet— A distant echo stirred within his memory.
[Lady Amasto? Is she unwell?]
‘A name I heard back in the Imperial Palace.’
Quickly, he recalled the moment. It had been right after he left the Imperial Crown Prince’s reception room. He had heard the prince’s voice addressing someone inside. Now, anything related to the Imperial Palace—especially anything concerning the Crown Prince—was something he could not afford to overlook.
Lutan rose from his seat.
The spirit flickered rapidly, urging him forward. He followed it out of the room. He had been in the tower’s highest chamber, where magic was strongest.
The reception room was on the first floor—he had to descend. Trailing the blinking spirit, he walked down the spiraling staircase. The aged walls of the tower carried the scent of moss and the weight of countless years.
Step, step…
Whenever he descended these stairs, memories that were not his own would surface. A clear, bright laughter. A radiant girl smiling at him.
The Primordial Star.
The one who had first bestowed magic upon the Archmages. A being who reincarnated with each generation—only to fade away before they could ever reach her.
But this time— He would take her back. From the grasp of that wretched imperial family.
***
On the first floor of the tower, unlike the upper floors, there was a comfortably furnished reception room.
A glamorous blonde beauty sat on the sofa, her hair swept up high in an elegant bun, dressed in the uniform of the knight order.
Holding a teacup in one hand as she sipped, her posture was effortlessly refined, leaving not a single opening.
As the Archmage stepped through the reception room’s door, she lifted her gaze while tilting her teacup—her expression reminiscent of a cat’s languid elegance.
With a fluid, seamless motion, she lightly set the teacup down and straightened her posture.
“You must be Archmage Lutan. It is a pleasure to meet you for the first time. I am Maili Amasto, the firstborn of the Marquess of Amasto.”
“What brings you here?”
Though Maili had spoken with impeccable courtesy, Lutan remained standing, not bothering to take a seat across from her.
She raised a single brow slightly, her lips twitching for the briefest moment, but she managed to maintain her smile.
“You are looking for Roina, aren’t you?”
At those words, the Archmage’s expression shifted.
His previously indifferent face rippled with change, a wary glint rising in his gaze. At the same time, the air in the room grew heavy. A dense, suffocating presence pressed down on Maili’s shoulders.
Maili tensed.
This was the Archmage’s domain.
She might not know the full extent of his abilities, but she was certain—if that man so willed it, she could be dealt with in an instant. She swallowed discreetly, then spoke again, smoothly, as if unaffected.
“I can help you. No—allow me to help.”
