A Mastermind? No, I'm just the Live-In Son-in-Law-Chapter 15: The Engagement Ceremony (4)

He was a notorious figure in the world of black magic, so infamous that the Holy Order had once declared him to be killed on sight.

“Did someone leak the intel? No... if that were the case, this wouldn’t be their method.”

Their operation had been planned with utmost secrecy under Pedro’s command, and the ritual was just about to begin—until it all came crashing down right beforehand. His jaw clenched in frustration.

“Master!”

“Something’s gone wrong!”

“I know that already. But the plan goes on—”

Though rattled, the plan wasn’t beyond salvage. He was about to give new orders to the two panicked black mages who had come sprinting through the dark when—

“Wait. What are you two doing here?”

“A-ah, that’s...”

“You’re supposed to be watching the girl!”

Realizing that the two who had approached him in the darkness were supposed to be stationed in the waiting room disguised as maids to watch the Saint, Pedro’s presence radiated with killing intent.

“I told you over and over—your role was the most important in this entire mission!”

“T-that’s...”

“Did you think I wouldn’t prepare for unexpected variables?! Get back there now!”

He pointed angrily toward the waiting room, and after exchanging a brief, nervous glance, the two black mages squeezed their eyes shut and confessed the truth.

“The Saint has been kidnapped!”

“...Are you joking right now?”

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“N-not by us! It was some young man!”

At first, Pedro frowned, unable to grasp what they were saying. But then, his expression began to harden.

“You lost the Saint... to one guy?”

“We—we thought there would be more with him! At first, we assumed he was a black mage too, but he had no crest!”

“He was dressed in black, but his behavior was oddly proper... and his voice, his eyes... they were so strangely compelling that w-we didn’t even think to resist...”

Pedro’s eyes flashed, and the two women, now trembling, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» dropped to their knees, clutching their chests.

—Hummm...

“Forgive us—Aaaagh!”

“Ah—Aaaah...!”

The brands on their shoulders erupted in black flame.

“If the Saint is gone, then the plan has failed.”

Pedro looked down coldly at the two women as they were engulfed by fire and reduced to ash, then began to reorganize his thoughts, rage simmering beneath the surface.

‘With things like this... we need to retreat. Minimize losses and pull out.’

He quickly reached that conclusion and prepared to summon the black mages scattered throughout the ballroom—

“Hm?”

—but suddenly paused, as something occurred to him.

‘Our numbers... are dwindling?’

The auras of his subordinates, which had been spread throughout the area, were now vanishing one by one.

“...!”

Eyes narrowing, Pedro scanned his surroundings with a wary glare.

‘Someone’s selectively targeting black mages.’

He had just realized that someone was moving through the darkness, quickly and efficiently eliminating his people.

‘Judging by the aura... it’s a swordsman?’

He began to silently gather black mana to prepare a counterattack, but a question surfaced in his mind.

‘But how’s a swordsman picking us out?’

The aura was undeniably that of a swordsman—but if so, they should be accustomed to darkness. Yet somehow, they were moving through this pitch-black environment, pinpointing black mages without fail.

To the uninformed outside world, black magic might seem flashy or chaotic, but its true power lay in stealth and concealment. That’s what gave it an advantage in the shadows.

Sure, one might sense a faint sinister energy if close—but to accurately distinguish black mana to this degree was impossible for anyone other than a white mage, the natural enemy of black mages.

“...Heh.”

Still probing the area by extending his aura through the ballroom, Pedro suddenly let out a dry laugh and immediately drew back his black mana.

‘So that bastard’s the one who ruined everything.’

He had spotted a young man quietly observing the situation from the corner of the ballroom—just like him—while issuing orders to someone nearby.

‘Of course... a damned, righteous white mage.’

The fact that his black mana was being sensed so clearly in that area confirmed it. The young man had to be a white mage—the very type they had taken special measures to keep out of this event.

‘That one must die, no matter what.’

Pedro clenched his teeth. He had poured everything into this plan, and now it had been derailed by one rogue white mage.

He began walking toward the figure.

‘Wait.’

Then, an eerie sense of discomfort swept over him.

‘Come to think of it... white mages are weak in the dark. So how...?’

Just like black mages were sensitive to holy energy and avoided sacred places, white mages couldn’t fully exert their powers in deep darkness.

So how was this one so effortlessly tracking them in an environment like this?

—Swish...

‘...!?’

The moment Pedro’s thoughts reached that point and he froze in place, his eyes—accustomed to the dark through years of experience—caught sight of something unbelievable.

‘Wait... is he looking right at me?’

The man who had been focused entirely on giving orders was now staring straight at him. Not just in his direction—directly into his eyes.

‘...Impossible.’

Pedro had perfected the art of concealing his presence after years of being hunted by the Holy Order.

Sure, he had spread his black mana across the ballroom to assess the situation, but even in a place cloaked in this kind of pitch darkness, not even a white mage should be able to detect him—let alone someone of his level.

“...Heh.”

“......!”

If the young man hadn’t smiled at him—cold and bone-chilling—Pedro might have chalked it up to coincidence.

‘I need to get out of here.’

With reality betraying all of his expectations, Pedro poured every last bit of the black mana wrapped around his body into activating a teleportation circle beneath him.

It might’ve looked cowardly, but this kind of swift decision-making was exactly what had allowed Pedro to become one of the most feared black mages in the underworld.

‘I’ll regret this today, but next time... I’ll make sure of it.’

And so, the man who was meant to leave his name echoing across the Empire by this day’s end vanished without a trace, melting into the shadows of the magic circle on the floor, still clinging to his regrets.

‘I’ll bring forth a demon into the heart of this Empire.’

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Thus, the demonic summoning event meant to unfold at the prologue—an incident that should’ve consumed the Saint and most of the guests as offerings—was ended before it ever began.

'Would’ve been nice to at least say goodbye to Lady Meredia, but I’ve still got work to do. No time for that.'

And the culprit who made that deception possible—Whitney—stood completely unaware that he had just been staring down the leader of the black mages. From afar, he could even feel Meredia’s approving gaze.

'Still, how did Parsha know something like this would happen and prepare that magical item?'

That rugged accessory she had handed him like an ambush, just before he left the mansion—it still emitted a faint glow, a calm, unwavering light that pierced through the hellish atmosphere.

And if he had known that despite her cautious nature, Parsha’s plan had been so bluntly straightforward it nearly sparked a civil war with Charlmont de Lunelle...

‘Well, all that matters is that things worked out in the end, right? Haha.’

Pedro might have clutched his neck and fainted from sheer disbelief.

***

"Please remain calm and follow instructions!"

“We suspect the involvement of black mages! If anyone is feeling unwell, please form a line over here—”

By the time the sun began to set, the ballroom was still a scene of disarray, and Meredia strolled casually past the Imperial Knights who had been dispatched to restore order.

“What a mess.”

She murmured under her breath, glancing around with sharp eyes.

‘Honestly, all show and no substance, these people.’

Despite her cynical muttering, the knights were doing their best to track down the culprits.

It was just that her gemstone eyes had rendered even the Empire’s standard magic analysis tools completely useless.

And since their initial investigation had found evidence of black magic, the person who had actually started the chaos—Meredia herself—was able to leave quietly under the pretense of being a member of the ducal house.

'Still, where did that bastard Whitney disappear to?'

Even after causing all that chaos, her thoughts were focused entirely on Whitney.

'He was running around like a madman in the dark, suddenly sensing something—and now he’s just gone without a trace.'

As if causing her all this trouble wasn’t enough...

The handkerchief still lay across her hand.

“Hm?”

Just as she was scanning the crowd with narrowed eyes, her gaze landed on something suspicious.

"Lady Meredia!"

And there he was—leaning casually against her carriage of all places, waving at her with that annoyingly sly grin.

"You didn’t even bother escorting me properly. Don’t tell me you’re planning to steal my carriage now?"

“Haha...”

“And where’s the carriage you came in?”

"Let’s talk inside, shall we?"

Her expression twisted in a scowl as she approached and questioned him, but Whitney, covered in dirt from head to toe, only gave her a sheepish smile and slipped into the carriage.

"Unbelievable."

Rolling her eyes at how naturally shameless he was, Meredia sighed and climbed in after him.

"Do you ever stop being so—"

But the moment she stepped inside, the words caught in her throat, and she froze in place.

"Mmmph, mmph...!"

There, tied tightly with ropes and half-dozing, was the very person whose disappearance had triggered the Imperial Knights’ state of emergency—Lady Hestia, the Crown Prince’s fiancée.

“...Don’t move.”

Next to her, equally drenched in sweat, was Lunelle—pressing a hand over Hestia’s mouth with a cold, threatening tone.

"My carriage would've definitely been stopped at a checkpoint. That’s why I borrowed yours."

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

"Just one more favor, Lady Meredia?"

Meredia could only stare at the disaster in front of her, her face blank with disbelief as Whitney wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled like this was all completely normal.

“...Are you insane?”

This time, she didn’t say it with irritation.

She said it out of sheer, honest-to-god horror.