[V13C10] Unclouded Eyes

The day after he shared a meal with Monica, Cyril Ashley was equipped with a triangular bandanna on his head and an apron over his clothes, busy polishing the floor with a mop. Since morning, he had been going through and cleaning each room of the Mage Association.

He was already done dusting the surfaces and wiping the windows, so all that remained was the final floor polish.

He stared down the grime with his eyes full of hostility, as if it was his mortal enemy.

“Are you really still cleaning? You’ve done nothing else since waking up.”

The Key of Knowledge Sophocles commented in a bored tone. Apparently, he had grown tired of Cyril’s endless cleaning.

On the other hand, Thule and Pikeh appeared to be enjoying themselves as they cheerfully swept down a neighboring room.

Cyril replied in a grim tone without pausing his mop.

“Sophocles, the past few days have taught me how immature, foolish, and tainted of a man I truly am.”

“Hmm…? Hold on, is this supposed to be a serious conversation?”

“I am currently trying to purify my clouded heart by sharpening my inner self. This is part of that process. Please do not interfere.”

Cyril realized how shallow he was, using Isaac for the sake of his pride.

He attempted to be kind to Monica by escorting her, only to realize the selfish desires hidden in his heart.

“…Begone, my earthly desires.”

Cyril continued eliminating the dirt on the floor, unaware that his mumbles were leaking. Watching this, the venerable ring on his right middle finger let out a sigh of exasperation.

“Good grief, how naive can you be? Boy, in your case, it’s your eyes that are clouded, not your heart.”

“…My eyes?”

Only then did Cyril pause the mop and look down at Sophocles.

His eyes were clouded? It was true that Cyril did not have the best eyesight, so perhaps Sophocles was telling him to wear glasses?

“You have a bad habit of only looking at the clean side, for others as well as yourself.”

The unexpected revelation sent a shiver down Cyril’s spine.

Averting his eyes from inconvenient truths, only focusing on the good half… Cyril vaguely realized that he had been doing this.

By facing straight ahead and only looking at ideals and lofty goals, Cyril had deluded himself into thinking he was strong. This way, he could keep pressing forward and avoid being tripped up by his anxiety.

By only seeing Isaac’s pristine side, he could treat Isaac as someone special and worthy of worship.

And by ignoring his ulterior motives regarding Monica, he could pretend to be a clean and virtuous man.

(…That makes me just like him.)

Cyril’s biological father was just like that too.

Ignoring inconvenient truths, setting up lofty ideals to escape reality. This path led to isolation, and ultimately, Cyril’s father ended up drowning himself in alcohol.

Why was Cyril constantly treading the same path as his father?

Cyril bit his lips as he listened to Sophocles’s words of wisdom.

“First, you must accept the ugliness within yourself. Only then can you realize that everyone else harbors similar aspects.”

“…”

“As I have said before, those who walk the path of Knowledge must not avert their eyes from the cruel truths they are exposed to.”

Sophocles softened his stern tone a bit. Now, he truly seemed like a wise old man.

“This should be simple for you now. You have the resolve, yes?”

“…Right.”

Cyril raised his right hand and bowed his head to the ring.

“Thank you for your advice, venerable sage Sophocles.”

Cyril was fortunate to have many allies, such as his stepfather, his friends, and even this ring. They would advise him of his mistakes whenever he strayed from the right path.

He vowed in his heart never to forget his gratitude for them, no matter what might happen in the future.

“In other words, I am saying that you should just admit the truth… That you’re a hidden pervert who desires a harem!”

The feelings of gratitude disappeared in an instant.

“We all know that deep down, a harem is every man’s dream… Argh! Stop bashing me against the wall! Do not scrape me across it either! Cease this at once!”

Cyril continued pounding his fist against the wall until eventually, he noticed someone behind him.

He turned around to see Raul, wearing his robes and carrying a staff above his shoulder.

Raul examined Cyril from head to toe and said, “Huh? Cyril? I totally thought you were the cleaning lady! Why are you hitting the wall dressed like that?”

“…”

“Come to think of it, everything looks really clean today… Have you been cleaning all morning?”

Cyril quickly hid the ring behind his back and cleared his throat.

“…Ahem. Well, something like that. Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I’m heading out after I grab something to eat. I have to stand guard at the ceremony tonight.”

This was likely the ceremony Monica had mentioned yesterday during lunch.

Apparently, she would be using the ancient artifact Star-Weaving Mira in place of the Starseer Witch, and remove the mana polluting the land.

This was part of the reconstruction effort, rather than a magical offering. That said, it needed to be announced to the citizens beforehand, to avoid causing mass confusion.

But once they announced that Star-Weaving Mira would be activated tonight, many of Sazandol’s residents seemed interested in the event. They were expected to flock to the lighthouse in anticipation.

“It feels like a festival; I even saw stalls near the lighthouse earlier. The people of Sazandol sure are tough, huh?”

After hearing that, Cyril remembered what Lana had told him yesterday.

“Raul, have you heard about the Rose Festival?”

“…Huh? What’s that? A special festival in Sazandol?”

As expected, Raul blinked his green eyes a few times in surprise. He truly had no idea.

Cyril crossed his arms above the mop handle and smiled.

“Apparently, the citizens of Sazandol have planned a festival of roses to thank the Thorn Witch for protecting them.”

“Huh? They want to thank… me?”

Raul dropped his jaw in surprise, flapping his lips silently like a fish. His face gradually turned red.

Cyril watched all of this with a smirk.

“Of course. You are the hero who protected Sazandol from the black mist, Lord Roseberg.”

“Eh…? W-Well, that’s…. um…”

Raul crouched down and covered his face with both hands. Meanwhile, Cyril looked down on Raul’s reddened ears and prodded his shoes with the mop.

“…You know,” Raul muttered. “I heard people talking about the Thorn Witch when I was going around and cleaning up my vines.”

“And?”

“…I thought for sure they were badmouthing me.”

“Did you not see them collecting your roses as souvenirs?”

“Ah!” Raul screamed as he ruffled his combed red hair. “Man, that’s a really embarrassing mistake… I was trying so hard to ignore them that I missed everything…”

To think Raul would say that, especially after Cyril got scolded by a certain ring for his clouded vision not too long ago.

Cyril chuckled slightly at the funny coincidence.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me,” Raul pouted. “That’s not funny.”

“Sorry. It’s just that… I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings either.”

“Huh? You just realized? You never look anywhere but straight ahead.”

“…”

Without a word, Cyril bashed his mop against Raul’s shoes a few times.

But suddenly, he heard the voice of a man behind himself. Cyril immediately recognized who it belonged to, as there was no way he could mistake Isaac’s voice.

Cyril turned around to see a man with a scar above his right eye. He held a large bundle of fabric in his right hand, and a covered basket in his left.

“Oh,” Isaac said, looking at Cyril from head to toe. “I almost mistook you for Mrs. Gray, the cleaning lady.”

“…”

“Why are you dressed like that on such an important day? Hurry up and make yourself presentable. I’ve been looking for you.”

“For me…?” Cyril asked, perplexed.

Isaac gestured toward the fabric he held in his right hand.

With this face, Isaac usually had an intimidating stare, making him difficult to approach when silent. But for some reason, his eyes currently sparkled with undisguised joy.

“Yeah. We’re watching Monica’s performance from the best seats!”

The cleaning lady, Mrs. Gray, is a 62-year old who never does anything unless it is part of her schedule. She’s rather tall for a woman and her white hair is always tied into a bun.

She generally doesn’t show favoritism toward anyone, but seeing Walker’s cooking and cleaning apparently reminded her of her late husband. She has opened up to him slightly.

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