The West Wind's Destination - Chapter 57
Ruslan coughed and halted his words.
“Understood. First of all, he must be tall.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem…”
“She likes wild, waist-length, blood-red hair.”
“……”
The butler listening quietly burst into laughter.
“Your Highness is disqualified.”
“Oh, I can dye it!”
Aseph irritably ran his fingers through his hair.
Inconceivable. The snow-white hair, praised by everyone in high society and sparkling like a jewel in the sunlight, was not an advantage now. He had meticulously groomed and neatly combed it every time he met Bea, thinking cleanliness was paramount.
And now, he’s hearing that she preferred long, wild, red hair.
“That’s not the end of it.”
“Go on.”
“Eyes sharp as a snake’s with bright yellow irises…”
Ruslan and the butler looked at Aseph Vilkanos as if assessing him.
Aseph’s eyes were heterochromatic, one purple and the other gold. Though one eye was gold, it was a dignified golden hue rather than the bright yellow of a snake. Definitely not matching the described criteria.
“So, it seems she prefers a somewhat ferocious demeanor.”
“Me? Does that not fit me? The Vilkanos progenitor even takes the form of a wolf…”
“Your Highness, you don’t come across as ferocious in the slightest—you just have a terrible personality.”
“…She doesn’t place importance on superficial values like appearance.”
“Once confident about your appearance, now you’re getting a bit pathetic.”
The silent butler spoke up.
“Your Highness, think like an alchemist. There is hope.”
“What hope?”
“You match about 25% of Zephyr’s tastes, Your Highness.”
Aseph clenched his fists, and Ruslan and the butler quickly grabbed the documents on the desk.
Bang! Papers that weren’t secured in time scattered on the floor due to the desk’s vibration.
“Are you helping me, or are you mocking me?”
“We’re helping. As your servant and as your friend.”
Ruslan picked up the fallen documents, his sincerity only irritating Aseph more.
Before Aseph could explode further, the butler spoke up.
“Your Highness.”
“What!”
“That appearance closely resembles Myron Devesis.”
“……”
Wild red hair. Bright yellow eyes. A large, warrior-like stature, wandering the battlefield with alchemy, the essence of human knowledge.
That charisma was unforgettable to anyone who saw him.
Aseph sighed deeply. After a moment, a weary voice escaped Aseph’s throat.
“Butler, you’re no help at all.”
The butler’s single comment was more devastating than Ruslan’s continuous annoyance.
In fact, what troubled Aseph the most these days was that Myron Devesis. Even in death, he’s causing trouble for the living.
The ‘Master’ Bea fondly remembers and seeks in her dreams and waking thoughts.
Indeed, it would have been fine if he was just a villain. Only recently did Aseph start feeling more like that man was his rival.
“What can I do? He’s already dead.”
Despite speaking coldly, Aseph seemed slightly disheartened and then asked the butler a question after a moment of thought.
“Butler… you experienced war alongside my father. Do you remember what kind of man he was?”
“He wasn’t someone you could easily forget.”
Pavel, the oldest among the servants, wasn’t from a family that had traditionally served Vilkanos.
Originally from the West, he pledged his loyalty to a previous Guardian of Vilkanos who had shown him kindness. Though now retired from the battlefield due to his age, he had firsthand experience in many wars alongside Vilkanos and was among the few who survived those tough times. He was also one of the few who remembered the past Vilkanos.
“What was he like?”
Aseph often respected his judgment since the previous guardian had trusted Pavel on the battlefield.
With his Western background, where trust among people was almost non-existent, Pavel had a keen insight into human nature. Being cautious by nature, his judgments were reliable. He had experienced wars for a long time and had even encountered Myron Devesis during the war.
This made Aseph even more curious about his opinion.
After a moment of thought, Pavel answered objectively.
“…The prejudices against alchemists that still persist are all his doing.”
Ruslan chimed in.
“What… the prejudice that they dig up corpses and throw people into cauldrons of potions? That alchemists are so ruthlessly heartless? I, for one, don’t believe that at all,” Ruslan quipped.
“You believed that until recently…”
“Isn’t it fortunate that I now know that I was wrong?”
Listening quietly to the conversation between Aseph and Ruslan, Pavel spoke softly.
“That was indeed the case back then. People were captured, their torsos slit open, organs used for experiments. It was an era of advancement in knowledge but also of barbarism. And the person leading that from the front was Myron Devesis.”
Myron Devesis primarily targeted mages. During his lifetime, mages lived in fear and distrust, and the people of the West also succumbed to alchemists, with slave hunting becoming rampant.
“After Myron Devesis died, the alchemists dispersed. I have met some alchemists who worked under him since then… but none were as close to Myron as Zephyr was.”
As Aseph stroked his chin, listening to the story, he quietly asked.
“Are they still alive?”
The question was based on the assumption that such disruptive figures might have been executed en masse. Vilkanos had sided with the mages, aiming for the eradication of alchemists at the time.
However, Vilkanos lacked the capacity to focus on those dispersed alchemists.
After all, the moment the war ended, the mages turned their newly sharpened blades towards Vilkanos.
