Konrad's life has been nothing short of ironic.
He went from never having a girlfriend to three beauties fighting for his attention all the time.
And each of them in a different way.
Lily was pretty open and chaotic, like her fiery hair and freckles—but never gone too far.
She was the master of teasing and arousing. Always wearing skimpy clothes, always physical, but always interrupted. A gentle touch, an innuendo—and she was gone.
Eyna remained timid, but stuck to him like a magnet—or a purple-eyed puppy.
She'd follow him around everywhere, and what he only suspected in the dungeon was on full display now. Her flawless dark skin and silvery-violet hair drew everyone's eyes.
She'd cling to him like her life depended on it—and he would've defended her no matter what.
And then Gabrielle with that impossible double personality—
That fragile beauty of a noble would visit them in Eytjangard almost every day. Her blue intricate dress contrasted with the straight black hair she always let down.
The grace with which she moved, the delicate face—hardening when nobody saw it.
What did she even want from him? Political intrigue? Blackmail?
Konrad didn't expect romantic feelings from her—but she was by far the most assertive.
Whatever he had done to earn this—in the three weeks since he had his harem, he'd only experience the downsides. Lily's dungeon kiss was the closest he'd ever gotten to action.
No privacy—jealous glances followed him everywhere.
And with them around, the control he'd been pursuing all his life also shattered.
"You left Zoltan in the dirt now, Konny boy," the ginger flashed her demonic gaze at him. "Your mana pool went from a shot glass to, um, well, a pool's size. Keep up the good work."
He would've—not like he had anything to do with the increase—but they kept bothering him.
"His recovery rate is abysmal," Gabrielle was less enthusiastic. "If you don't do something about that, the marriage offer's off, and you know what that means—"
She didn't try to appeal to his feelings.
It was a nice way of saying that her father, the duke, would execute him for destroying the core.
Which he didn't, but Lord Schwertburg sent envoys to demand compensation every week.
"Come on, Gabby," Lily—the real culprit—teased her. "He only has to chew on some crystals, and he'd be good to go again."
Those two would be at each other's throats all the time.
It didn't matter why—they'd find a reason.
"Master is amazing, he'll figure something out." And that was Eyna.
Devoted ever since he saved her tribe. At least her behavior made some sense.
And she wasn't a superhuman in disguise—
"Yes, try this low-grade crystal at least," Lily offered.
But the story about shamans with exploding heads was still fresh in Konrad's memories.
The two tribal girls grew pretty close—though it was more of a jab at Gabrielle.
"Anything, but getting him addicted to crystals," Welf pleaded. "I've my hands full with one mana junkie of a little sister. If we have nothing left to sell, the Black River tribe will starve."
Yes, now said tribe was also Konrad's responsibility, with three dozen extra mouths to feed.
"I wish my idiot brother were as sensible as yours," Gabrielle sighed. "Yes, it's better if he finds a more sustainable way. And keep those pariahs out of sight until the king's new decree—"
Which brother did she mean? Aset's duke had seven sons, but he never met any of them.
Konrad knew almost nothing about her—about either of his haremettes.
But he knew about the king, and the looming deadline Vargas gave him had passed long ago.
Clearing that dungeon should've made him worthy to be a noble, but the duke kept it a secret. Well, not like he had to worry about assassins anymore, but he sure tried his best to impress.
When left alone long enough, Korad reverse-engineered Zoltan's old spells in hours.
Summon fire. Compress it into a ball. Assign mana—release on contact. Simple.
"A fireball? How?!" his 'master' paled when he tested it on a boulder. It wasn't a crafty illusion—it left nothing but glassed dirt behind. "At first try? And where'd you even get the mana—"
That's what he wanted to know, too.
"Faking was harder," Konrad scoffed, unsatisfied. "But this one makes a bigger mess. I'm only using the symbols you have shown me, the rest is that crystal's doing—"
Or whatever Lily did to him—it didn't feel earned.
Not like he'd let such a fortune go to waste, but he hated being at others' mercy.
"Don't sell yourself short," she poked at him. "Even if the dragon's ruby unlocked your potential, you've learned those spells yourself."
That he did.
If he had time to memorize the runes, he could cast them after a few tries. But time was the most scarce resource he had. If only those notes the Green Mage left behind weren't a mess—
"Help restore the pages, and you can learn whatever," Zoltan offered.
His jealousy was almost as bad as the girls', but Konrad would've still taken him up on that.
If not for that terrible vinegar smell—
"Fixing his recharge rate comes first," Gabrielle wouldn't budge on that.
And when even Lily nodded along, the boy knew he was in trouble.
"It was pretty fast before," he crossed his arms, but he felt it, too.
That trickle might've refilled a shot glass' worth of mana in minutes, but try filling a pool—
Even if he could've cast a hundred fireballs, he'd have to wait a month to regain his strength.
And having so much potential only made him realize that he still had a long way to go.
As if he were an unwilling participant in a game played by higher powers—one he didn't understand. Nobody told him the rules—if they even existed—and they'd change at a whim.
Even Lu avoided his dreams now; the last time he saw him was before the dungeon.
But time wouldn't stand still until he sorted everything out.
One day, instead of the duke's envoys or Gabrielle, Vargas showed up at the Tower of Illusions.
He didn't bring an army with him—or assassins, which was a good sign—but he held a letter.
A parchment, rolled up, and sealed with Kasserlane's royal symbol.
"You better be ready for whatever's in that response," the captain warned him, handing it over.
Again, not something Konrad had any control over.
He was sweating even before he took the parchment and broke the seal with a deep breath. What did the king find out about him? Was he worthy of the old Halstadts' titles?
Was he even related to them?
That triad on his hand—did it mean anything, or was it a coincidence?
Either way, Konrad was no longer the same orphan he was even a month ago. He had loyal friends—strong allies, all gathering around him, so he squeezed his eyes shut and—
"Huh? It's blank."
He unrolled the parchment, flipped it around, and upside down, but it didn't matter.
The whole letter seemed empty.
"Oh? Interesting," Vargas smirked, eyes on his birthmarks. "That can only mean one thing."
Before he could blink, the captain grabbed his dagger, lunging forward, and slashed—