Count’s Youngest Son is a Warlock Chapter 292 - Side Story – Teacher and Disciple (3)

 

“Lucion.”

 

“Yes, brother?”

 

Lucion smiled warmly at Russell.

 

“Let’s postpone the trip for now.”

 

“…Is something wrong?”

 

Lucion looked at Russell with concern. He had been so cheerful just a moment ago.

 

“…I just have this feeling that we absolutely shouldn’t go. I’m sorry…”

 

“It’s okay. I’m sure you have your reasons. I’ve lived with you for years—if I couldn’t pick up on that by now, I’d truly be hopeless.”

 

Lucion took a leisurely sip of his tea.

 

“As you know, I’m quite perceptive. And my heart is as vast as the sea.”

 

Setting his teacup down, he flashed a bright smile.

 

“When you’re ready, just tell me. It’s a trip—both of us should enjoy it, right?”

 

“Right. Exactly.”

 

“Russell, Lucion… and even us—everyone should enjoy the trip.”

 

Even Darkness offered a faint smile as it looked at Russell.

 

Under the warmth of their gentle gazes, Russell awkwardly fiddled with his teacup.

 

* * *

 

Russell stared at his hands, stained bright red and trembling.

 

‘…Ah.’

 

His mind was blank. He could think of nothing.

 

All he could do was hold Lucion and run.

 

He hadn’t even noticed the shattered carriage or the lifeless coachman.

 

The carriage had come out of nowhere and slammed into Lucion.

 

It didn’t make sense.

 

It wasn’t even a road meant for carriages, yet one had appeared.

 

The coachman was not a commoner. And Lucion just happened to be there.

 

But most unsettling of all was the fact that Russell hadn’t sensed any of it.

 

It had been a completely normal day. Lucion had simply gone into town to buy his favorite macarons—like always. That made it all the more bizarre.

 

“Hurry! Russell, please hurry!”

 

Darkness’s cries made Russell stagger for a moment, gasping for breath.

 

‘I’ve seen Lucion die before.’

 

A wave of déjà vu washed over him.

 

But that was all it was—a passing feeling.

 

‘If only I had…’

 

Amid the confusion and sorrow, a single, powerful emotion surged.

 

‘If only I had taught Lucion black magic.’

 

Regret.

 

‘If Lucion had become a warlock…’

 

Then maybe—even if the carriage had charged at him—he might have been okay.

 

The darkness within a warlock would have surely protected him.

 

“…Ugh…”

 

Russell regretted it.

 

And then he regretted it again, weeping over the white cloth that now covered Lucion.

 

What did nobility matter anymore?

 

In the face of death, it was meaningless.

 

He had known Lucion’s body wasn’t capable of learning anything that could protect him.

 

Russell shoveled dirt onto the coffin, not even aware of what he was doing, until he found himself facing Novio.

 

That day, for the first time, he truly understood the sorrow of a father who had lost his child.

 

It was like decay—overflowing, foul, and suffocating.

 

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Russell said, setting down the shovel and kneeling before Novio.

 

“…I’m sorry.”

 

He hadn’t protected Lucion.

 

He should have.

 

It should’ve been him.

 

“Lucion…”

 

When Novio finally tried to speak, tears streamed down his face.

 

“Lucion was… truly happy to have met you… ugh…”

 

Russell’s head dropped as if burying himself in the ground. A sob escaped him.

 

He felt Novio’s trembling hand on his shoulder.

 

“…Lucion was happy to have known you.”

 

Words he wished he’d never heard.

 

“Thank you, Russell.”

 

* * *

 

Rustle.

 

Eyes red from weeping, Russell pulled out every single book hidden away in his hideout.

 

‘There has to be a black magic that can bring someone back…’

 

He had waited until everyone left Lucion’s grave to approach the tombstone.

 

He ran his hand over Lucion’s name again and again, vowing silently:

 

He would bring him back—no matter what.

 

“Russell, please… stop. There’s no such thing as black magic that can bring the dead back!”

 

“You know better than anyone, don’t you?”

 

Darkness tried to stop him.

 

“…No. If there’s a price—yeah, if there’s a price, then anything’s possible.”

 

A glint of madness began to shine in Russell’s eyes.

 

The sorrow of losing Lucion, mixed with his obsession over death, made black veins appear around his eyes. Darkness shouted:

 

“Do you really think Lucion would’ve wanted this?”

 

That single, painful question brought Russell to a halt.

 

His obsession-clouded eyes started to waver.

 

“Do you really think Lucion would’ve wanted to see you fall apart like this?”

 

“A wish, you ask?”

 

It felt awkward to ask, but suddenly Russell recalled Lucion’s mischievous smile.

 

“My happiness came from you, brother. So I hope you’ll forget all the painful memories and be happy too.”

 

He remembered Lucion’s face—gazing at him with pure sincerity, wishing only for his happiness.

 

Drip. Drip.

 

Russell fell to his knees and began to cry.

 

Bitterly.

 

So, so bitterly.

 

“Lucion… was the only place I, someone abandoned by the world, could finally lean on…”

 

He had built his hideout in the cracks of a rock where sunlight never reached—a place where warlocks were hated and rejected.

 

Why had he done that?

 

“You all know, don’t you? You saw it. Every single moment. How I scavenged for rotting scraps, how I gnawed on dead rats just to survive…!”

 

His voice suddenly rose in anger.

 

“Just because I clumsily displayed black magic—how many times was I chased, hunted, driven away? I avoided people. I hid. That’s how I ended up in this place…”

 

Yet on the day he thought the pain would no longer hurt as time buried it, he encountered Lucion amidst the beautiful fireworks, drawn in by the sounds of ghosts speaking.

 

The first person to smile so brightly at him.

 

That’s when he realized:

 

His pain was still alive, still sharp, still stabbing him.

 

“I finally had a family… for the first time in my life.”

 

Lucion was his little brother, almost like his own child.

 

Someone who had embraced him without hesitation.

 

Someone who had said, “I like you.”

 

Even that warm gaze… he had never experienced anything like it before.

 

He had wanted to give Lucion everything.

 

“…Ugh…”

 

Then, one day, he began to experience déjà vu.

 

The journey. The carriage. The forest path.

 

And so many other things.

 

He didn’t know why he felt that way.

 

No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, Lucion still died.

 

“He… was my only family.”

 

Russell clutched the hem of his clothes tightly as he cried.

 

“My precious… so very precious…”

 

“I’m glad… I drank it instead…”

 

At the banquet celebrating Lucion’s coming of age, he had drunk from a poisoned cup.

 

“Th-that cup was mine. I was drunk… Lucion just brought it over and happened to take a sip…”

 

Russell felt his chest tear apart under the weight of overwhelming grief.

 

Lucion had been so happy to be drinking for the first time—and then he started vomiting blood.

 

Why?

 

Even in that moment of chaos and pain, Lucion had worried about him until the very end.

 

“I know, Russell. Lucion was our family too,” Darkness said, trying to comfort him.

 

“No matter what happens… we must stay neutral.”

 

“To us, he was a child we dearly loved.”

 

“We feel like we’re going mad too. We’re only holding back because we know—if we give in to this grief, it’ll consume us.”

 

“…”

 

Russell could only stare at the Darkness, which could do nothing but weep silently.

 

It was Lucion’s best friend.

 

“…Wait.”

 

Russell suddenly froze.

 

A single tear quietly slid down his cheek.

 

“Lucion… didn’t become a ghost.”

 

No matter how long they waited, Lucion never returned as a ghost.

 

Even Darkness couldn’t explain why.

 

“I kept getting déjà vu. Just before Lucion got into danger, my darkness would always stir. You think that’s a coincidence?”

 

Russell’s eyes trembled.

 

“Déjà vu… not just once, but multiple times?”

 

Darkness, still crying, asked him quietly.

 

“Isn’t that strange? So… I wasn’t imagining it.”

 

Russell wiped his tears and straightened his back.

 

Too many incidents had happened around Lucion.

 

Some small, some significant—but all of them could’ve ended in death.

 

“Yes, I always thought it was strange.”

 

Russell closed his eyes.

 

“It’s as if… the world itself is trying to kill Lucion.”

 

At those words, Darkness flinched. But Russell, eyes still closed, didn’t notice.

 

He exhaled deeply, trying to piece everything together.

 

If the world really did want Lucion dead…

 

And if the déjà vu he felt—and the movement of his darkness—were signs…

 

‘What black magic did I use?’

 

What kind of spell could it have been?

 

Russell sank deep into the sea of thought, so deep that even his own breath couldn’t be heard, surrounded by thick darkness.

 

Countless thoughts crashed over him like waves.

 

‘Surely, it was trying to warn me that Lucion would die.’

 

But something about it still felt off.

 

Russell furrowed his brows.

 

‘But if I didn’t already know about his death… how could I have been warned?’

 

It was too vague to say he knew the future.

 

After all, Lucion had died.

 

In that moment, he fought back the emotions rising up within him.

 

This wasn’t the time to break down.

 

It was time to unravel the meaning behind the déjà vu.

 

But even so, tears continued to stream down his cheeks.

 

‘If I couldn’t stop his death, then I didn’t know the future. But… if I felt déjà vu multiple times… then—’

 

Russell opened his eyes.

 

His gaze trembled with emotion.

 

‘That means… this has already happened.’

 

Though he could hardly believe it, the pieces were falling into place.

 

‘The world…’

 

His eyes trembled faintly.

 

‘…is repeating itself.’

 

There could be no other explanation.

 

He didn’t know the future—but he somehow knew what was going to happen. That could only mean one thing:

 

It had already happened at least once before.

 

‘Is that… even possible?’

 

“Rus…sell?”

 

“Russell?”

 

Even as the Darkness called out to him, Russell didn’t respond; he just stared blankly into space, his eyes unfocused.

 

“This is bad. Russell is acting strange.”

 

“Did we say something too harsh?”

 

The Darkness exchanged anxious looks.

 

“What if we lose Russell too?”

 

“No—no! I don’t want that!”

 

Not all warlocks could hear their voices. And even if they could, it didn’t mean they listened.

 

Most cursed their fate and hated the Darkness for what they had become.

 

When Russell suddenly moved his darkness, the Darkness looked at each other in surprise.

 

“What’s he doing?”

 

“What kind of black magic is Russell using?”

 

“…It’s not a spell yet. He’s just shifting his darkness to the deepest part of himself. What is he trying to find?”

 

The Darkness looked at Russell with concern.

 

Russell’s fingers twitched slightly.

 

‘Just as I thought.’

 

In the deepest part of his darkness—where no one else could reach—it was there.

 

Black magic.

 

Scattered intentionally.

 

Russell gathered the fragmented pieces using his own darkness, carefully reassembling them.

 

‘What is this…?’

 

As the final characters aligned, his breath caught.

 

It was a message.

 

A message… to himself.

 

‘The world repeats. The world is trying to kill Lucion.’

 

At that moment, Russell screamed.

 

Suddenly, a crest resembling a bird appeared above his head.

 

“Ru–Russell! Russell!”

 

“Ghh… hghk!”

 

As the crest glowed brighter, it felt like his head was being crushed, and he couldn’t breathe.

 

His face turned red.

 

As darkness flared up in his eyes like flames, countless memories pierced through his mind.

 

You must not die! Don’t you die too!

 

“…Ugh!”

 

Clutching his head, Russell trembled violently, thrashing and arching in pain.

 

It was as though every chain that held his mind together suddenly snapped—and then, all at once, he went limp.

 

Tears he had held back came pouring out.

 

‘Damn it…’

 

It was true.

 

The world really did repeat itself, and each time, Lucion died in unnatural, unexplainable ways.

 

‘Damn it!’

 

This wasn’t the first time.

 

Lucion had died dozens of times, and each time, he had just stood there foolishly watching.

 

“Damn it!”

 

Russell erupted with deep self-loathing, filled with frustration and anger.

 

Each time Lucion died, Russell had etched fragments of black magic into himself to reclaim those lost memories.

 

With a distorted face, Russell wept, spewing out his sorrow and howling in misery, pouring out his remorse.

 

His cries resembled those of a wild beast or a child throwing a tantrum.

 

Overcome with anguish, he slammed his fists into the ground over and over until blood splattered from his palms.

 

Only then… did he stop.

 

The sharp pain jolted his senses back to focus.

 

Russell straightened his upper body, gazing into the Darkness like a predator watching its prey.

 

The salty taste of his tears lingered in his mouth, yet Russell parted his lips.

 

“What exactly is the Vessel?”

 

“H-how do you know about that?” Darkness asked, shocked.

 

“Because Lucion is the Vessel.”

 

“…What did you just say?”

 

“Because Lucion died because of him!”

 

“Him? Are you talking about the one who took everything from us?”

 

“The world is killing Lucion—”

 

But before he could say another word, Darkness quickly moved and covered his mouth.

 

“No.”

 

“Don’t say it.”

 

“You’re going to die. That guy will show up and kill you.”

 

“Then see for yourself.”

 

Russell pressed his forehead against the Darkness.

 

If he couldn’t say it, they had to see it.

 

They had been Lucion’s friends once. They deserved to know.

 

“See the memories I’ve recovered.”

 

The magic was too heavy for Russell alone to bear. To protect it, he branded the cost onto himself.

 

“And in the next world, neither you nor I will forget these memories.”

 

{Sunlight is your curse. If it touches you, it will slowly melt you away.}

 

A curse had been cast.

 

But true to his genius, it was a small price to pay.

 

After all, avoiding sunlight was simple.

 

“What is this? What is this…”

 

Russell wiped his tears and looked at the confused Darkness.

 

“Tell me. What is the Vessel?”

 

“The rightful heir to the place that was stolen. Our everything. The one who maintains the balance of the world.”

 

“What happens if the Vessel dies?”

 

“It transfers to another Vessel.”

 

“But if these memories are correct… the Vessel never changed.”

 

Russell’s eyes sharpened.

 

“Do I need to ask again?”

 

“…We vanish,” the Darkness replied quietly. “And the world… will collapse.”

 

“But Russell,” the Darkness called to him with a trembling voice.

 

“We don’t understand any of this anymore.”

 

“We just want to save Lucion.”

 

“That sweet, dear child who was our friend.”

 

“Right? I feel the same.”

 

Russell wiped away the tears that fell from the Darkness and said,

 

“I don’t know everything either. I just… want to save Lucion.”

 

He had never taught Lucion black magic, but he had taught him many other things.

 

He had never denied the title of Teacher that Lucion wanted to call him, even as he lived as a noble.

 

But now, none of that mattered.

 

He was Lucion’s teacher, and Lucion, no matter what anyone said, was his disciple.

 

“My… precious disciple.”

 

Russell slightly lifted the corners of his trembling lips.