Chapter 54: The Beginning of the Farce (Please Recommend and Add to Favorites)

Late in the evening, Bowen returned to the academy, and from afar he spotted President Lisper pacing hesitantly outside the underground laboratory.

A thought crossed Bowen’s mind. He raised his right hand and slashed the air before him; a flash of white light, and he reappeared behind Lisper.

“Well now! President, to what do I owe the honor of your visit to my humble abode?” he teased.

“Ah?” Lisper jumped, utterly startled by Bowen’s sudden appearance behind her.

“I…I…well…” Lisper’s face flushed from red to pale. “No…nothing, I was just passing by, not here to see you for anything…”

Bowen couldn’t help but laugh; he found the president unexpectedly endearing.

“Come in,” he said, opening the protective barrier with a gesture and inviting her inside.

Lisper appeared conflicted.

“Come on, you know plenty of people are keeping an eye on this place. Layman should still be inside,” Bowen added, and without further ado, he took her by the wrist and pulled her in. “One of your own is down below!”

“Hey, wait…” Lisper’s ears turned crimson, but fortunately, her red hair concealed it well.

Her earlier worries were quickly forgotten as Bowen’s words caught her attention.

“One of my own?” she wondered aloud, following Bowen into his private underground chamber for the first time.

Shortly after enrolling, Bowen had spent a hefty sum to rent this space from the academy—a deal brokered by the previous president. Back then, Lisper had only just joined the Arcane Society as an inconspicuous member.

What had seemed a joke application was unexpectedly approved!

At the time, it caused quite a stir and no small amount of ridicule. Yet, to everyone’s amazement, Bowen transformed this wasteland into a private underground laboratory, astonishing the majority.

Naturally, curiosity about the place abounded, but with Bowen’s introverted nature, he had few friends, and those who had visited seldom gossiped. Bowen’s meteoric rise only fueled the intrigue, making his lab a constant topic among the students.

This was one of only two private laboratories in the academy—the other belonging, of course, to the legendary Archmage, the Headmaster, who held the highest authority over the Mage Tower and its experimental facilities.

Of course, there were always those eager to follow suit, but the first step deterred most. With so many credits and coins, wasn’t it better to learn a few more spells? Even the wealthy rarely dared to build their own alchemical workbenches; every year, a few tried their luck and ended up crippled or dead.

Being injured in a spell experiment left wounds tainted by violent magic. Minor injuries were one thing; serious ones were beyond the help of low-level priests or clerics, and higher-level healing was ruinously expensive. Delay too long, and muscle memory set in, making recovery impossible.

As arcanists grew in power, relations between Nether’s arcanists and the clergy soured. Seeking their healing inevitably led to extortion.

Such animosity had festered for over two millennia, growing ever worse. With the arcane civilization’s ascent, arcanists grew increasingly arrogant and prejudiced, even refusing divine healing, believing that accepting it would forever bar them from godhood.

There was even an arcanist who, grievously wounded in battle, refused divine healing and sought to create an arcane spell to heal himself—he ended up crafting a ninth-level spell, Time Stop, to suspend his own injuries (a feat of mad genius!).

Lisper, too, was not immune to curiosity, taking in every detail of Bowen’s private lab along the way. Though sparsely furnished, the infrastructure was sound, filled with many oddly shaped devices—clearly Bowen’s own handiwork.

The public labs in the Mage Tower had the benefit of dedicated cleaning crews, but here, Lisper had expected chaos. To her surprise, the place was immaculate; supplies, tools, and materials were all arranged with meticulous precision.

“Boss, you’re back,” Layman greeted as soon as they entered. “Oh? Isn’t this the president?”

“Mm…” Lisper nodded awkwardly.

But her attention was immediately drawn to the two children behind Layman.

And the two children stared back at the tall, elegant young woman before them.

Only then did Lisper realize what Bowen meant by “one of your own.”

“So, he already knew about my bloodline!” she thought.

In fact, Lisper herself hadn’t known she was of elemental descent until she became president of the Arcane Society.

If those two children weren’t first-generation godspawn, their blood was certainly close—too obvious to miss.

Though not sharing a common ancestor, she understood well the hardships faced by those descended from gods or demons. Persecuted for generations, most such children would eventually fall, even those as innately good as Asmo would become twisted and cruel.

Lisper’s bloodline was a case of skipping generations. She knew her ancestors had suffered greatly before finally integrating into Nether society.

Seeing the children’s tattered clothes and visible wounds, her heart ached. She gathered them into her arms.

After spending time together, Blake had come to understand Lilith’s powers. Seeing that she didn’t resist, he obediently allowed the tall young woman to embrace him as well.

Though he disliked her aura, even more than Lilith’s at first, he gradually realized this aversion was a product of the “cursed” blood that had brought him so much misfortune—made him different, mocked, and exiled.

Blake was slowly learning to master the emotions his heritage provoked.

Bowen, watching this, could only cover his face in exasperation.

What a sight! Was he really so unwelcome?

Layman, being a man, obviously lacked the president’s gentle touch. Perhaps it was for the best to have her take over, Bowen thought.

With that, Bowen and Layman stepped aside as Lisper naturally took over caring for the two children.

“Boss, I’ll head back now, or I’ll be caught by curfew,” Layman said.

“Mm. There’ll be a group arriving at the warehouse tomorrow. Make sure they’re settled,” Bowen instructed.

“Shouldn’t you wait a few days till things quiet down?” Layman asked, worried.

“No need. I have a feeling it’ll all blow over soon. If the Pale Masquerade doesn’t clear out the rats in the royal city, the nobles will turn on them,” Bowen replied with a sneer.

No wonder the Jaeger Church kept shrinking—those mummified priests truly had maggots for brains.

After Layman left, the two children, soothed by Lisper, quickly fell asleep.

“So, what happened?” Bowen poured a cup of barley tea and handed it to the president.

Lisper took a sip and replied, “Cook has been arrested.”

“Arrested? By the Syndicate’s Inquisition?” Bowen asked.

(The Syndicate—originally meaning “trade union” in French—is one of the main forms of capitalist monopoly. Here, it refers to Amanata’s church monopolizing all law, enforcement, and judgment in Nether.)

“What was the charge?”

“Endangering public safety.”

“Oh, so Cook’s been framed,” Bowen stated.

“You think so too? How did you know?” Lisper asked curiously.

She was only so sure because she knew Cook well, but Bowen, after just a few meetings, was equally certain.

“Such a far-fetched charge is clearly a setup—and it’s someone from the academy. When Cook was taken away, I bet none of the teachers showed up, nor did the DuPont family react?”

“How could you possibly know that?” Lisper was stunned. If she hadn’t known Bowen wasn’t there, she’d have thought he’d witnessed the scene firsthand.

“It’s just a childish farce,” Bowen said.

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