In the Nasuverse (TYPE-MOON), I Created a Magical Family Lineage

After delivering her parting words, Lorelei turned and strode away without hesitation. Her tall figure, accentuated by the boots on her feet, vanished swiftly into the depths of the tree-lined path. That flowing, chestnut-red hair flickered out of sight as decisively as she had arrived.

The enforcers of the Political and Legal Department, who had been kneeling on one knee, glanced once at Lucan and Kenneth before silently withdrawing into the shadows.

Kenneth sneered. "A pack of stray dogs."

Lucan shot him a sideways glance, amused. Why didn't you say that when Lorelei was still here? Apparently, even this lemon-headed noble knew how to read the room.

Meeting Lucan's gaze, Kenneth harrumphed and didn't argue. Instead, he commented, "I thought you might actually accept Barthomelloi's invitation."

"What difference would it make?" Lucan replied indifferently.

The afternoon sun had begun its descent. Though not as intense as noon, the 2 PM light still cast a warm glow, heating the edges of one's vision.

Lucan wore a carefree expression, as if the weighty confrontation earlier had nothing to do with him at all. Relaxed and self-assured.

"In the end, we'd have fought anyway—whether it's Barthomelloi or anyone else."

He wasn't yet at the peak of power he'd reached in simulated lives.

But unless an actual Grand-ranked magus of the Clock Tower appeared, he had little to worry about.

Even if one did—

He could hold his own. He lacked mana reserves, yes, but he wasn't helpless.

"You're reckless—just like that 'Luvist'," Kenneth muttered as he brushed wind-tossed golden hair from his face.

Lucan didn't respond. As the radiant magical sigils of his Hall regalia faded and vanished, he turned toward the manor's main gate. "Since they're gone, no need to stand around."

Kenneth raised an eyebrow. Is he treating my house like his own now?

The Director of Mineralogy followed with some exasperation. Though this was his home and personal workshop, Lucan led the way as if it belonged to him.

Now that the 'stray dogs' had retreated, peace returned to the El-Melloi residence. The tide of Mystery had receded, and the estate's true character emerged once more. Lucan and Kenneth stepped through the iron gate and into the garden's leafy paths, heading toward the quaint, traditional manor.

Kenneth muttered as they walked, "A mere commoner dares challenge Barthomelloi. Should I call it bold... or suicidal?"

"Do you think I'll die?" Lucan asked, not stopping.

Kenneth walked beside him, hands behind his back. The sunlight cast patterned shadows over his features as they entered the corridor.

The Clock Tower lecturer smirked.

"No."

"Even with just the Luvist name, some families within the Tower would ensure your survival—though they'd enjoy seeing you suffer."

"I feel the same."

Despite his words, Kenneth had been thoroughly impressed by Lucan's earlier composure—how he had rejected Barthomelloi without hesitation. Had their roles been reversed, Kenneth wasn't sure he could've done the same.

This was Barthomelloi, after all. The Clock Tower's oldest and most exalted family.

A family second only to the Department Head of Lore—its patriarch nearly on par with the Clock Tower's Director.

They reached the manor's central hall and sat again beneath the crystal chandelier.

Kenneth reclined in his chair, continuing, "Of course, if you're looking for further protection, I'd be happy to offer it."

Lucan raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to call me your 'adopted brother' too, are you?"

Kenneth sipped from a porcelain coffee cup—but his brows twitched. He put it down immediately, and a maid stepped forward from the shadows to replace it.

Lucan noticed this maid wasn't the same one who'd greeted him at the door. Damn nobles...

"I've no interest in gaining an 'adopted brother' without blood ties," Kenneth said plainly.

"But—there's always the option of marrying in."

Marrying in?

Lucan suddenly had a bad feeling.

"Your bloodline may only go back two or three generations," Kenneth explained. "But we've never hesitated to recruit talented commoners. Of course, I'm not talking about marrying into my branch—"

"I've heard there's a promising young girl in one of El-Melloi's other branches. The last of her line. If I recall, she'd be my niece."

"Marry her, and you could inherit their name. Become head of that branch, preserve your Crest, and build your own faction."

"Why not?"

Kenneth's tone was persuasive. It was clear that, after witnessing Barthomelloi's interest in Lucan, he had begun to seriously value Lucan himself—not just the Luvist Crest.

Even the most conservative noble families were willing to recruit exceptional commoners.

Mystery always needed fresh blood.

Otherwise, it would vanish into history.

Lucan raised a hand. "Forgive me for asking... but this 'last of the line'—her name wouldn't happen to be 'Reines,' would it?"

Kenneth frowned. "Sounds familiar. Maybe?"

"Things like that aren't worth remembering."

Lucan was speechless.

Of course he remembered Reines. She was a canonical character in the Nasuverse—the girl who would later inherit the El-Melloi name after Kenneth's death.

But in 1993...

Reines was only four or five years old!

What the hell—that's illegal!

He wanted to refuse immediately.

"Don't be so quick to decline," Kenneth interrupted, sensing Lucan's objection. "We can revisit the topic later."

He took another sip of freshly brewed coffee.

"You'll be staying here for the time being. Under the El-Melloi contract, this entire estate—aside from its more sensitive areas—is open to you."

"Your guest room's on the second floor. Library's on the third."

Kenneth stood.

"Oh, and one more thing."

"You should count yourself lucky you came alone today. If that arrogant loudmouth Webber Velvet had come with you, I would've kicked you both out."

He pointed at Lucan's pocket.

Lucan blinked. Wait... what did I forget?

He pulled out the blocky mobile phone.

The call was still connected.

Everything that just happened—Webber had heard all of it.

Lucan lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

—Lucan, you bastard... you actually went to that damned lemon-head? And he's badmouthing me behind my back!?

Webber Velvet was still down by the Clock Tower's dormitories, fuming, mid-rant.

But Lucan cut him off with one line:

"That'll be five hundred pounds for the call. You're welcome."

"You're freaking ROBBING me!?"

From the dormitory lawn, Webber nearly jumped out of his skin, completely forgetting what he was going to say.