MPNS Ch 57

Chapter 57

Could it be sudden paroxysmal arrhythmia? Nikiel studied Lucien’s condition carefully, frowning.

Come to think of it, wasn’t he treated as the “frail character” even in the original story…?

Lucien, the prodigy magician, was cursed by the Mad Dragon’s bloodline—condemned to transform into a serpent. The tragedy was that serpent venom constantly circulated through his vessels, and when in human form, his body was always weakened, fragile, sickly.

This world seemed to have no distinct medical terminology for white hair, pallid skin, and red eyes, but Nikiel knew: Lucien was albinistic.

Albino traits often came with congenital frailty; add to that the venom threading his bloodstream, and Lucien’s body was perpetually burdened.

And yet paradoxically, the Dragon’s Curse had also reshaped his frame—broad bones, robust musculature, a body that grew fine and tall.

So while he rarely suffered from trivial colds, he would, at times, cough up blood—just as Nikiel himself had in the story. At least, in the source text, that’s how it was.

Therefore, in this world too, Lucien could very well suffer the same.

If he is albinistic here as well, then the story’s settings really do remain intact… Of course, strong muscles don’t always equal sound health.

Nikiel recalled the terrifying force with which Lucien had seized his wrist—enough to make him pale even now.

Was the man on the verge of arrhythmia induced by venom? If so, would Nikiel need to administer CPR? But he displayed no symptoms of hyperventilation. Nikiel had been staring worriedly into his flushed face.

Lucien turned his crimson face aside and released Nikiel’s shoulder.

Perhaps he was alright after all. At that moment, Nikiel thought to slip quickly out of the archive—

But Lucien’s arm darted out again, seizing his waist. He pulled him close a second time and plucked from his back the hidden volume.

“Ah—!”

“…This book is confiscated, Your Highness.”

Lucien’s complexion was still flushed as he looked down. The ruby eyes shimmered, staring with ineffable intensity, searching Nikiel’s face with a strange heat.

Nikiel had no idea what the look meant.

Why is he staring at me like a starved man staring at a banquet table? …Wait. Some pythons do swallow humans whole. Does he… does he think of me as dinner?

Unease pricked his gut. He had never heard of cannibalism in this world but one could never be sure. Perhaps some document existed recording a cursed Lord who devoured his own royal scion seeking release from the curse. He stammered weakly:

“…I wouldn’t taste good, you know.”

“What are you saying? Enough of this. Leave this place, Your Highness.”

By then Lucien had regained his composure. He even poked Nikiel’s back with the book, urging him outward. The dismissive, brusque gesture reminded Nikiel all too much of Yullan and Raymon, both of whom shunned physical contact with him. He tilted his head, bemused.

I thought he was different, but… was I mistaken?

It did not please him—having the book snatched, the back jabbed. Yet Nikiel was stubborn. He knew when to retreat only to push forward again. He exhaled dramatically, an exaggerated sigh.

“Fine, fine. But really! I only wanted to read a little at long last, and you bar the way. These books aren’t even yours, and yet you hoard them so—how laughable!”

“……”

Lucien offered no retort, only stepped after Nikiel as he left the sealed archive.

Inside, candles burned—no sunlight allowed to enter for the sake of the books. But once they stepped out, pale daylight spilled through latticed windows, making Nikiel squint.

Lucien followed more slowly, fingers brushing the shelves for support against the sudden flood of light.

Nikiel turned and noticed—his crimson eyes, without melanin, must be painfully sensitive to sunlight. His vision was poor; he often secluded himself in windowless chambers, lungs weakened from damp seclusion, coughing often. Nikiel recalled these details from the story.

Embarrassment pricked him. He had been about to storm off and abandon the Duke. Instead he lingered, waiting silently until Lucien steadied in the light.

The man lowered his tentative hand, walking properly again. Seeing the moment, Nikiel wet his lips and asked:

“Considering… today’s sunlight is so harsh, how did you manage to come outside?”

Lucien arched a snowy brow, taken aback by the sudden question, then answered evenly:

“I brew my own potion. A few drops, and for a time I can walk outdoors, even at noon.”

“…I see.”

Lucien studied him sidelong, unaware how fixedly he was staring. Nikiel’s lashes fluttered, his blue gaze lost in thought. Curiosity etched his face so deeply that Lucien nearly asked what he was thinking.

Nikiel, oblivious, straightened, lips parting. Already Lucien had quietly returned the book to its shelf and laid a simple sealing charm on the secret door. He could have left then, work complete. Yet something kept him there.

Perhaps… he came alone. He might need escort back to his palace.

When had he started caring for Nikiel’s safety? He ignored the contradiction, folding his arms, watching him rapt while Nikiel mused.

At last, when Lucien could no longer resist, ready to break the silence with What are you thinking?—

Those lips moved first. Uneven, red as rose petals holding the shimmer of summer’s heat, his lips shaped words.

“…Your Grace is very skilled in the alloying of metals, are you not?”

Lucien blinked, brows furrowing.

“What do you mean?”

Yet it was true. His greatest strength lay across magic and alchemy. Most magi and alchemists distanced themselves—two disciplines, two camps. Lucien excelled at both.

The troubling thing was: Nikiel knew that.

The prince sighed softly, only for himself.

Damn my meddlesome tongue. I hadn’t meant to betray that I knew.

For Nikiel, who had read the original story, already knew how Lucien—a child, then a suspect puppet Duke—had subjugated his treacherous vassals.

A prodigy in magic, yes, but he had taught himself alchemy. His knowledge of minerals approached genius. Not quite a modern chemist’s mastery of the periodic table as Nikiel knew it, but enough that one could call him the finest alchemist in the western continent.

Armed with this, Lucien had when grown enough gathered his mutinous retainers and demonstrated before them the transmutation of copper into gold.

Until then, he had been a mere cadet’s blood, placed temporarily while greater nobles quarrelled over who would control Turun’s future. A puppet boy.

And then, in one day, he became the Goose that Laid the Golden Eggs.

Before all eyes, he conjured gold. Then he rewarded loyalty with wagons of his gold, in exacting sequence, supporting those who swore to him.

He ruled with that gold. Overnight, the scarecrow had become maker of treasure.

Though still not grown to full manhood, he handed out gold obsequiously—then whispered dissections among them, sowing rivalries.

“Lord A slandered Count B, swearing his loyalty to me above him, if only I grant him a thousand hundred million kerliarches worth of gold.”

“Count B claimed Lord A was scheming treason; if he brought me proof, he demanded one thousand five hundred million instead.”

The boy’s innocent eyes had been his dagger tongue, dividing them even as they underestimated him. They did not see the serpent’s forked tongue in play.

So while they bickered, he grew. He transformed a worthless mountain into what was officially recorded as a gold mine of his own estate, secured the king’s legal sanction, and paid a tithe of one‑tenth of the gold to the crown. Thus he became a magnate.

Later, when the vassals who knew too much of his alchemy bled each other dry with feuds, he sent assassins to dispatch those survivors. Purge by purge, he cut away all chaff, until only the humble, loyal, or fundamentally true vassals of Turun remained.

What had begun as whispers and gold ended as a house reborn—its serpent master feared, respected, and utterly in control.

Footnotes:

• Albinism in Lucien: albinism explains his weakened health, light sensitivity, red irises. Nichiel applies modern medical perspective onto the fantasy setting. 
• Dragon’s Curse: afflicts each Lord line differently; for Lucien it manifests as serpent transformation and venom circulating, making him both weakened and empowered. 
• Kerliarch (킬리어치): fictional currency unit in the setting; vast amounts used to signal wealth and manipulation. 
• Copper-to-Gold transmutation: Medieval fantasy world alchemy motif; Lucien used the dramatic lie/truth of alchemy to evolve from puppet to master.