'If I die, let it be known I was a Master Magician who went out in a blaze of glory, not a man who was executed because his Saintess looked too much like a piece of furniture,' Julian thought, gripping his cane until his knuckles turned as white as his hair.
He channeled the entirety of the cane's mana battery—a feat that usually required three layers of safety circles and a signed waiver from a priest.
"Phase... SHIFT!" Julian bellowed, or rather, squeaked.
The world didn't just blur; it folded, tucked itself into a pocket, and then violently sneezed. Julian felt his internal organs attempt to switch places—his liver was definitely in his throat, and he was pretty sure his gallbladder was now located in his left boot.
CRASH.
In the Grand Dining Hall of the Blackwood Estate, a Royal Inspector was just reaching for the handle of the "Forbidden Guest Wing" door.
"Sir, as I said, the Young Master is currently undergoing a very private, very explosive spiritual cleansing—" Elara was saying, sweat beads flying off her forehead.
Suddenly, a rift of purple energy tore open in the middle of the dining table. Julian plummeted through it, face-planting directly into a bowl of leftover mushroom soup.
"I AM... THE MASTER... OF SPACE!" Julian shouted, muffled by the soup, as he rolled off the table and landed at the Inspector's feet.
The Inspector jumped back, his hand on his sword. "Young Master Blackwood? You were just at the Gilded Flagon! And... why do you smell like Dwarven ale and fungal broth?"
Julian scrambled to his feet, swaying dangerously. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a structural disaster, and he had a mushroom stuck to his ear. 'Twelve minutes left. I can't let him open that door. Lyra is in there probably charging a Void Blast that will remove this entire floor.'
"Ah, Inspector!" Julian gasped, his voice sounding like it was being filtered through a rusty pipe. "You caught me! I was just... testing my new 'Instant Soup' spell. Very experimental. Very dangerous. If you open that door, the pressure differential will cause your eyebrows to spontaneously combust!"
"Sir, I have orders from General Valerya—"
"AND I HAVE ORDERS FROM MY BLADDER!" Julian yelled, his voice hitting a pitch that only dogs and highly sensitive magical artifacts could hear. He grabbed the door handle, leaning his entire weight against it. 'Lyra, if you can hear me through the wood, please, for the love of all that is profitable, HIDE!'
The Inspector blinked, taken aback by the sheer, desperate volume of the Young Master's shout. "But sir, the protocol—"
"The only protocol I care about is the one involving my internal plumbing!" Julian scrambled, his brain working at 400% capacity despite the Dwarven Ale trying to shut down his frontal lobe. "I'll be out in a second! Or ten! Just... go count the silver! Make sure the spoons haven't been embezzled!"
Without waiting for an answer, Julian wrenched the door open, tumbled inside, and slammed it shut, locking it with a trembling hand.
He leaned against the wood, gasping for air. "Lyra? Lyra, we have a Code Red! The tax-man is—"
He stopped.
The sound of trickling water filled the room. Julian's eyes, already wide and "lit" from the adrenaline and alcohol, slowly drifted toward the corner of the suite's private washroom.
There, sitting on a porcelain throne with her robes bunched up and her silver hair cascading over her shoulders, was the Saintess of the Void. She was mid-relief, her purple eyes wide with a shock that transcended mortal comprehension.
The silence that followed was so heavy it could have been sold by the pound.
"I..." Julian croaked, the mushroom still stuck to his ear wobbling. "I have a very logical, very cost-effective explanation for this intrusion."
Lyra's face didn't just turn red. It turned a shade of incandescent violet that suggested her blood was actually boiling. The air in the room began to hum with the sound of a thousand angry bees.
"Julian," she whispered, the water stopping as her mana began to condense into a singularity. "If you do not leave this room in the next 0.5 seconds, I will make sure your soul is the only thing left of the Blackwood lineage."
"Right. Logically. Yes," Julian squeaked. He didn't even turn around; he just backpedaled so hard he hit the door with his spine. "Just... stay there! Don't move! The Inspectors think you're a chandelier! Be the light, Lyra! Be the light!"
He dived back out into the hallway, slamming the door just as a bolt of purple lightning scorched the wood from the inside.
Julian turned to the Inspector, his face a ghostly white, but his expression still held that terrifying, manic grin.
"See?" Julian wheezed, smoothing out his soup-stained robes. "A very... thorough cleansing. Now, about that 500% tax evasion by Count Halloway. Follow me to the study, and try not to mind the smell of ozone. It's... a Master Magician's air freshener."
[System Notification: Quest 'THE SAINTESS IS NOT A COFFEE TABLE' - SUCCESS!] [Rewards: +50 Days Lifespan, 1,000 Gold, Survival] [Current Lifetime: 190 Days]
'190 days,' Julian thought, his soul weeping as he led the Inspector away. 'I've secured my life, but I've definitely lost my dignity. And possibly my head, once she finishes in there.'