Little Pink Starfish

Just a week after Ishar entered the Mage Tower and began adapting to his new life, Rekayan decided it was the perfect time to raid his quarters.

Or rather—he tried.

“…Excuse me.”

Suspended in midair, Rekayan looked down to find a boyish, expressionless face staring up at him. Their eyes met, and before he could help himself, Rekayan thought:

Wow. He used to look like a doll—now he looks like a statue.

Those glassy violet eyes betrayed not a single emotion. Whatever pity he’d tried to evoke seemed completely wasted. Swallowing an invisible tear, Rekayan tried diplomacy.

“Um… junior?”

“Since when was I the junior of a thief? Call me that again, and I’ll slam you into the ground. Your choice.”

“…Wow, fiery. Got it. Yep. Uh—room owner? Would you be so kind as to hear a word from this humble thief?”

“And why the sudden polite tone?”

“Instinct. It’s telling me that if I don’t, you’ll feed me to Zerozeni II. I’ve become humble.”

“Honest. I like that.”

Ishar, who had caught the would-be thief red-handed in his quarters, paused for a moment, then dropped Rekayan to the ground.

Literally dropped.

Rekayan, however, landed neatly and bowed to Ishar, who stood with arms crossed, watching him coolly.

“Thank you. I’m Rekayan. Been in the Tower for five years.”

“Spare me. Thief, I’ll give you three minutes to explain. Fail to convince me, and it’s Zerozeni II’s mouth for you. Go.”

The “abandoned prince,” who had always stood quietly at royal banquets, had a far filthier mouth than Rekayan expected.

“It’s Tower rules.”

Rekayan saw Ishar frown and found it oddly fascinating—like watching a frozen sculpture come to life.

“There was no such rule explained to me by the Tower Lord.”

“Ah, it’s more of an… unofficial rule. You know, like the unspoken etiquette at noble banquets.”

“…Keep talking.”

“One of the Tower’s silent rules is that you’re allowed to steal ingredients or funds from other mages to support your research. However—materials currently in use or used in active research are off-limits. Same with research results. Only unused items are fair game.”

“So, you broke into my room to steal my stuff.”

“…Yes.”

Silence.

Rekayan eyed Ishar cautiously. His expression had gone back to neutral—no way to tell what he was thinking.

Is he really going to throw me into Zerozeni II’s mouth?

He still hadn’t fully recovered from his last attempt to loot the Tower Lord’s chamber. Two days ago, Zerozeni II had rolled him around like a chew toy.

If it happened again so soon, his lab full of baby-squirrel-like chimeras might starve to death.

“If you’re going to feed me to Zerozeni II, please reconsider! My chimera kits are anxiously waiting for me in the lab!”

“…Mouth.”

Just one word, but with terrifying weight. Rekayan instantly clamped both hands over his mouth and waited. Or, more accurately, calculated his escape.

If I use illusion magic combined with earth and wind spells, I might get away… but if he reports me to the Tower Lord as a royal, she might actually kill me.

“Did you steal from anyone else?”

“Of course.”

“Get caught?”

“Heh. I’m the genius destined to be the next Tower Lord. You’re the first.”

“…I see.”

Ishar fell quiet again—but not for long. When he suddenly smiled, Rekayan felt a chill.

“I’ll forget what happened today.”

“Wow, that’s generous!”

“On one condition: take me with you next time you go looting.”

“…Excuse me?”

“I live here now. I should follow the rules, shouldn’t I?”

Had he heard that right? The Second Prince of the Lucheist Empire was… volunteering to steal?

“Honestly, with my major and research, the materials I’ve brought aren’t enough. I’ll have to take from others. It’s convenient that the rules allow it.”

“…What’s your major?”

“Healing magic.”

“…Wow.”

“Why the awe?”

“I thought I’d met all the crazies in the Tower. I was wrong. You’re the real crazy.”

Thwip!

Before he could flinch, something whizzed past Rekayan’s cheek. A pen embedded itself halfway into the wall behind him.

Looking back at Ishar, Rekayan was greeted with a dazzling angelic smile.

“Oh? You want to die?”

Rekayan shivered to his core.

“Ah, what a noble and compassionate major for a royal who embodies love for his people! A healing magic specialty—so inefficient it surpasses inefficiency itself—is clearly meant to spark a new wave of revolutionary research in the healing arts! I, a humble subject of the Empire, am deeply moved!”

Ishar didn’t look pleased. If anything, his frosty smile deepened.

“I’m not a prince anymore. I’m a mage now—same as you. Don’t call me that.”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean, yes.”

“So, ‘senior’? Are you accepting my proposal or not?”

Rekayan’s instincts screamed: If I say no, that pen’s next stop is my face.

Straightening up with zero dignity, he dusted off his clothes, wiped his hands, and extended one to Ishar.

“If my dear junior wishes, it is my duty as a senior to oblige! I look forward to working with you!”

---

Honestly, Rekayan didn’t believe Ishar could actually steal anything.

He was a discarded royal, a self-taught magician with no formal training. He hadn’t even been allowed access to the royal archives. Sure, he’d watched a few Esche training sessions from afar, but that was it.

Rekayan had no intention of teaching him anything. Ishar didn’t ask to learn either.

So when he finally witnessed Ishar’s magic firsthand, it was in the most unexpected way.

“…My vault. He raided my vault…”

Rekayan always led the looting raids, so he never got to see Ishar’s magic up close. Ishar typically used brute force or silence—not spells.

Now, faced with his wide-open vault, with all his prized materials and gold stacked neatly at Ishar’s feet, Rekayan collapsed.

“Your enchantments were amusing,” Ishar commented casually.

“You… how could you do this to me?”

“I haven’t taken anything. Yet.”

“If you so much as channel mana into that spell, I know everything’s going to be teleported into your vault.”

“Yes, true. But your enchantment was fun. I’ll let it go this time.”

“…Really?”

“Really. But tell me about the spell formula. I cracked it, but it had an unusual logic. There were inefficiencies that I thought could be improved.”

“Oh?”

That’s how the conversation began.

Ishar pointed out every flaw in Rekayan’s magic, even offering demonstrations.

Rekayan was stunned.

Ishar had identified exactly the parts he himself had struggled with—and offered flawless solutions, free of charge.

Is he a sucker?

That was Rekayan’s first thought.

So he shamelessly began asking for more advice. Other mages, noticing this, began swarming Ishar too—hoping to recruit him into their research.

“Back off! He’s my junior!”

“REKAYAN, YOU MANIAC! Did you just throw a fireball?!”

“Traitor! He’s trying to monopolize him!”

“Ishar’s mine!”

“Tower Lord! Tower Lord! Rekayan’s out of control! Throw him into Zerozeni II’s mouth!”