Chapter 141: Epilogue II – The Tale of Connections Formed

The Fourth Connection

In LuftHagen, the premier port city on the Winter Continent, travelers were invariably directed by locals to Siren’s Rest when seeking lodging. This establishment was renowned for being operated by two beautiful sisters who provided an unparalleled sanctuary—one where weary souls could find solace as much as tired bodies found rest.

Even today, the Sirens of LuftHagen continued their healing work with their ethereal melodies, soothing the hearts of weary wanderers.

Ahhhhh…

As the performance drew to a close, Lucia’s clear humming tickled the ears of those present at Siren’s Rest. The song ended, leaving behind a profound resonance that lingered in the air.

“Bravaaa!” A thunderous applause erupted immediately after.

Whish!

Lucia descended from the makeshift stage at one end of the inn, basking in applause, whistles, and the admiration of those present.

Among them were observers who murmured their thoughts:

“Hmm… The rumors turned out to be true after all.”

“That’s right; I heard if you go to LuftHagen, you’d see a Siren…”

“Her singing was impressive, but…”

“Certainly possesses that classic Siren beauty.”

The well-dressed young male travelers’ eyes sparkled as they gazed upon Lucia.

“Should we go over and strike up a conversation?”

“Oh! Courage wins fair maidens every time!”

“I’ll head o—”

Just as he made to stand—

Thud.

A beer mug slammed roughly onto the table before him.

“What the hell?!”

“What is this madness?”

As foam spilled in all directions, the men’s expressions darkened instantly.

Along with the sound came a slurred voice: “Here’s your b-beer, s-sir.”

The one who had set down beer mugs at their table was a blonde youth with an air of arrogance. His rude demeanor incited the travelers to bristle and rise from their seats in indignation.

“What’s your problem—?!”

No—not quite yet. They froze mid-rise as four burly men emerged from behind him, towering over them menacingly.

“Well now, what did you say?” one of the hulks growled.

“Are you dissatisfied with our young master here?”

“How dare you raise such a fuss around these parts!”

“We’ll teach those eyes of yours some respect if necessary,” another snarled threateningly.

These brutish figures created an oppressive atmosphere that instantly deflated any courage within the travelers. With awkward expressions on their faces, they sank back into their chairs.

“N-no… That’s not it,” stammered one traveler nervously.

“I-I’ll finish my drink right away,” chimed in another, casting furtive glances downward as they sipped at their beers.

In that moment, a petite woman pushed through the group of brawny men and swiftly grabbed the blonde youth by the ear.

“Carrie!” she exclaimed sharply.

“Ouch!”

“You’ve caused trouble again, haven’t you?”

Despite witnessing their young master’s ear being firmly grasped by a burly giant—a scene that would normally warrant immediate intervention—the hulking men remained silent. In fact, they deliberately turned away as if nothing were amiss.

And no wonder; the one yanking on Carrie’s ear was none other than someone deeply cherished by these formidable guardians.

Carrie winced at the pain, his expression pleading. “L-Lady Lucia… Ow, it hurts.”

“Why do you always end up like this? Why must you harass our guests?” she chided.

“Harass them? This is self-defense! Those ruffians had designs on Lady Lucia—how could I stand idly by while such insolence went unchecked?” Carrie protested vehemently, managing to articulate his entire argument even as he was dragged along by the ear.

Eventually, Lucia led him through the crowd, avoiding further confrontation. Only then did she release her grip on Carrie’s ear, allowing him some respite from the painful ordeal.

“Ouch…” Carrie winced and rubbed his ear where Lucia had pinched him gently but firmly.

The young boy she used to look down upon had grown taller than her now; he stood at eye level with her—a stark reminder of how time flew by unnoticed.

He’s gotten so tall again! When did that happen?

Carrie possessed a well-proportioned physique and striking features. No longer could Lucia think of him as just a boy—she realized he was truly becoming a man.

Come to think of it, I heard there’s been one girl lately who can’t get enough of him, she mused. Something about being from some noble Mitro family or another…

Perhaps sensing her gaze on him, Carrie curiously asked, “Um… Lady Lucia?”

Lucia snapped back to reality at his call, feeling a slight flush creep across her cheeks as she exclaimed, “What brings you here today?” Her tone betrayed both exasperation and concern for this frequent visitor.

“Huh? I come here every day…”

“Well, if there’s no reason for your visit, I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“W-wait! There is a reason!” Carrie stammered, his confidence faltering at Lucia’s sharp tone.

He looked like a lost puppy as he fumbled through his pockets and produced two tickets with trembling hands. “Um… tomorrow… there’s supposed to be a performance by a renowned theater company…”

”…”

“M-might you care to attend with me?” He mustered up all his courage, closing his eyes tightly as he respectfully offered her the tickets with both hands. His heart raced wildly, pounding against his chest.

But after what seemed like an eternity, Lucia remained silent, offering no response. When Carrie finally peeked open one eye, he found Lucia staring intently at him, which only served to make him break into an awkward smile.

“Ah, I see… If you’re busy, there’s no choice. It’s alright,” Carrie said with a forced smile. Despite his words, a shadow of disappointment flickered across his eyes.

Was it too soon for her?

After pursuing Lucia for years, this was finally their first date request. Just as he considered hastily retracting his offer, thinking he might have been too hasty—

Lucia spoke up in her grumpy voice:

“What if I say no? What will you do with that ticket then?”

“Oh ha-ha! Well, since it wasn’t terribly expensive…I’d probably just throw it away…”

“Is that so? If it were costly, I would’ve considered going along.”

”…What?” Caught off guard by this revelation, Carrie blinked rapidly before urgently correcting himself: “No, wait! It is expensive! This ticket is incredibly pricey—I had great difficulty securing it!”

Lucia smiled faintly at Carrie’s excited demeanor as she plucked one of his tickets from the stack he was holding out to her. With a sly grin, she said:

“I’m only giving you this because I wouldn’t want it wasted. Don’t get any wrong ideas.”

“Oh no, not at all!” Carrie replied hastily. “I understand perfectly!”

“Tomorrow then? What time should we meet?”

“The theater opens at 7 PM,” Carrie responded eagerly. “I’ll come fetch you for your performance!”

“Got it. See you tomorrow. And remember… if I catch you harassing our customers again…” Lucia warned with a stern look, “…you’ll be in for quite a scolding!”

“Yes ma’am! Absolutely!” Carrie nodded vigorously, his enthusiasm palpable.

As Lucia turned back towards the inn, Carrie watched her go, lost in thought. Suddenly…

“Ahhh…” A shudder ran through him, followed by a thunderous roar that erupted from deep within his chest—a triumphant howl of sheer delight.

“Whoo-hoo!” Carrie danced on the spot, overcome with ecstatic joy. His shout was so loud that passersby were startled enough to turn back and look.

“Young master?!”

“What’s happened?”

Startled by Carrie’s piercing cry, his subordinates rushed out from their inn room towards him. They found themselves enveloped in a tight embrace as Carrie exclaimed:

“Heh-heh! Heh-heh-heh!”

“B-but young master…?” The Bunt family operatives could only stare blankly at Carrie, who seemed to have lost his mind from sheer happiness.

“Hahaha! The world is truly beautiful beyond measure!”

”…”

Though others might think him mad, Carrie couldn’t contain his elation. This marked not just any ordinary date, but one between himself and the lady he believed would be both his first love and last—their very first official meeting after years of unrequited affection. Slowly yet surely, signs emerged that this could indeed blossom into a perfect romance.

The fifth bond of destiny…

It was still early evening, not yet time for nightfall. A lone dwarf drove his carriage across a field ripe with golden grain.

Clippity-clop.

In sync with the rhythmic hoofbeats, he swayed gently in the seat, savoring the essence of autumn at its zenith—a season bursting with abundance.

How long had this peaceful interlude lasted? Suddenly, an enormous city came into view on the horizon—the same place that, just decades ago, had been no more than a small village. Now known as Cyron, it stood majestic before him.

The dwarf guided his carriage towards the city’s main entrance, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“It seems even bigger since I last saw it!” he marveled aloud.

As they approached, countless pairs of eyes were drawn to the approaching carriage, which boldly cut through the long queue of people waiting to enter the city.

As the dwarf-driven carriage approached the main gate, the guards on duty sprang into action.

“Make way! Step aside for a moment!”

“Clear the path!”

Those undergoing inspection were pushed aside, bewildered by the commotion. The dwarf’s carriage smoothly passed through the gap it had created.

One traveler who had just endured the lengthy inspection process couldn’t help but voice his discontent at this turn of events.

“What in blazes is going on here?! Some folks have been waiting hours just to get checked while that cart gets waved right through! What makes them so special?”

The guard clicked his tongue as if accustomed to such complaints. “Tsk tsk. You’d best not speak of business deals until you’ve seen all there is to see.”

“What do you mean?” the traveler asked, clearly puzzled.

“You didn’t notice the emblem on that carriage earlier, did you?”

“Huh? Emblem?”

“That was no ordinary carriage—it belonged to the Tower of Wishes!”

The pedestrian who had been grumbling at the guard’s words suddenly flinched.

“Ah, was that indeed a carriage from the Tower of Wishes?”

Cyron owed its transformation from a mere backwater village to this bustling city entirely to the Tower of Wishes. The support it received from one of the three great merchant guilds on the Autumn Continent, along with their groundbreaking research into sacred scriptures—this revolutionary combination had drawn people here en masse, giving birth to the Cyron we knew today.

It was only natural, then, for the guards of Cyron to show overt favoritism towards carriages bearing the Tower of Wishes’ crest.

But the guard wasn’t finished yet.

“And did you see the dwarf sitting in that carriage earlier?”

“Yes, I did.”

“That was none other than Sir Douglas himself!”

“Douglas…?” The pedestrian repeated the name softly, his mind racing through memories until he arrived at a startling realization. “Sir D-Douglas?! You mean Master Douglas—the legendary alchemist?!”

“Indeed, you’re right!” The four Masters who sustained the Tower of Wishes were held in even higher regard than Cyron’s lord himself—perhaps even more so.

Seeing the pedestrian flinch, one of the guards barked back at him:

“If serving such esteemed individuals bothers you that much, then forget about doing business here in Cyron! No one would buy from someone unwilling to cater to them!”

“I-implying dissatisfaction?” stammered the man hastily. “No way! Absolutely not!”

“Cough! Good. Next!”

The once disgruntled traveler quickly straightened up and scurried through the main gate with newfound respectfulness.

Meanwhile, Douglas’s carriage continued along its path after passing through the entrance. As it made its way through town, residents of Cyron recognized both the crest on the carriage and its occupant. They paid their respects by subtly bowing their heads toward Douglas—a gesture signifying deep admiration for this revered figure.

Had Louis seen how these recluses were treated, he would have marveled at the stark contrast from his own time. Douglas arrived at the main hall of the Tower of Wishes, greeted with utmost hospitality. The once-humble tower that had resembled nothing more than a pile of scrap metal now stood as an imposing edifice—a natural fit for someone like him.

As he took in the grandeur, someone rushed over hastily upon catching sight of him.

“Oh! You’re here already?”

“What about the others?”

“They’ve been waiting for you.”

“So I’m the last one?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Heh, just as I suspected—the bratty bitch must be yapping away again.”

“Ha ha, shall I escort you inside?”

“No need. Do you think I could get lost in my own home? Go tend to your duties instead.”

“Understood, sir.”

After seeing off the eager attendant, Douglas crossed his short legs leisurely. His destination was the second-highest floor within the tower—a place steeped in history and significance.

In the chamber where matters concerning the Tower of Wishes were deliberated—

As Douglas pushed open the door and entered, the first thing that greeted him was the tantalizing aroma of exquisite cuisine.

And then came the familiar refrain:

“Shorty! Why so late?” Erica scolded as expected.

Ignoring her harangue, Douglas strode purposefully into the room. It housed a long dining table laden with food and five chairs arranged around it. He naturally took his seat at one end.

Soon after, Victor, Floria, and Erika joined him, each settling into their respective places across from one another. The unusual feature of this setup was the grand chair positioned at the head of the table—left conspicuously empty amidst its counterparts.

“You made it,” Victor observed warmly.

“A laborious journey indeed,” Floria concurred sympathetically.

These four masters gathered once a year on Dexter’s anniversary for a shared meal—a poignant ritual they had maintained for many years now.

This was a well-known tale at the Tower of Wishes.

As soon as Douglas took his seat, Erica began her usual chatter.

“I’ve told you all before—I hate this ritual,” she grumbled. “What’s with gathering every year on that old man’s death anniversary?”

Though Erica complained incessantly, everyone present knew better. Despite her protests, there had never been a single year when she hadn’t eagerly awaited this gathering herself—always arriving first to greet the others.

Douglas chuckled mischievously at her words. “Who do you think cried it out for three straight days and nights when our dear old friend passed away?”

”…”

Erica pursed her lips at Douglas’s reminder.

Floria, ever the peacemaker, smiled warmly and interjected gently, “Let’s drop the bickering now and enjoy our meal together. It’ll get cold if we keep this up.”

”…You dwarf bastard. Let’s see what happens after you eat this.”

“I’ve heard that threat every year, old man,” Erica retorted with a roll of her eyes as she picked up her spoon and bowl. She paused, gazing at the soup before softly murmuring:

“Malt barley soup… This was his favorite…”

At her words, all present recalled the wrinkled face of their former tower lord—the one they had lost ten years ago.

Dexter.

Contrary to the healer’s grim prognosis upon his return from the Autumnal Scholarly Festival on the continent, he had defied expectations by living for another decade before passing away. The healers attributed his prolonged survival to miracle, but his disciples knew better. It wasn’t due to any divine intervention; rather, it was sheer determination that had kept him going against all odds.

Dexter had seized every opportunity left behind by his predecessors and created chances of his own to ensure he wouldn’t falter. He had diligently laid the foundation for his youngest disciple—the future tower lord who would one day claim the empty seat at the head of their meetings.

As the other four disciples watched with rapt attention, Dexter passed away peacefully, his face devoid of any lingering concerns.

In that moment, as they all recalled Dexter’s unwavering dedication, their gazes naturally gravitated towards the vacant chair at the head of the table—the very throne Douglass had personally crafted for the yet-to-return tower lord.

Amidst this silent contemplation, Victor cautiously broke the silence:

”…Friends,” he began hesitantly.

“Friends?” Erica echoed, her eyes narrowing quizzically at him. “What’s gotten into you, Victor? You sound so uncertain.”

Despite her skeptical look, Victor remained utterly serious.

“I’ve been giving it some thought,” he continued slowly. “Do you think our tower lord will return while we’re still alive?”

At his words, the others flinched involuntarily.

“Well…” one of them began hesitantly. “I suppose it could go either way. The only certainty is that Floria has the highest chance among us to see him again.”

Floria’s eyes widened at Erica’s remark. “W-Why me?”

“Elves have such long lifespans,” someone pointed out.

“So do werefolf!” another chimed in defensively.

“Heh heh, true enough,” Victor concurred with a wry smile. “We’ll all live long lives, ensuring we eventually meet him. As for this dwarf—my time here won’t last much longer—I shall head on ahead and wish you luck from beyond.”

“The comment you just made…” Floria spoke up earnestly. “If I ever see Louis again, I will definitely pass your message along. After all, who knows if even Dexter’s spirit might be summoned by someone like him?”

“F-Floria… That was quite inappropriate. Please forgive my thoughtlessness.” Realizing how seriously the situation had turned due to his offhand remark, Victor stepped in to diffuse the tension and bring some order back to their conversation.

“Let’s agree on this,” Victor proposed.

“On what?”

“If He were to come while we’re all still alive, it might be different. But what if one of us is left alone to face Him? It could happen, you know.”

“It’s a horrifying thought…” someone murmured, “but I suppose there’s no denying its possibility.”

“In that case,” Victor continued, “those who leave first should prepare some sort of safeguard for whoever remains behind.”

“What kind of safeguard do you mean?”

“Well, something that might appease His wrath—like a safety mechanism or device, perhaps?”

“Hmm…”

Everyone nodded solemnly at Victor’s suggestion. It was indeed quite reasonable given their situation. With four people involved, none knew who would be the last remaining member. If those departing early could leave such a safeguard behind, it would undoubtedly alleviate the burden for whomever remained.

Especially Floria, renowned for her longevity, enthusiastically raised both hands in agreement.

“Yes!”

“Agreed!”

“I concur!”

With everyone’s opinion solidifying in favor of the idea, Erica pushed the plate towards Douglas.

Douglas’s eyes widened at this sudden display of kindness. “What is it?”

“A token of our appreciation,” she replied. “May you enjoy many good meals and live long.”

”…”

In response to these words, Douglas gently nudged the plate towards Floria. She, in turn, passed it to Victor, who then moved it back towards Erica. The dish circled around the table, a physical manifestation of their conflicted emotions—partly hoping Louis would return, partly dreading his absence. Amidst this chaos, the empty chair stood as a silent observer to their collective unease.