Chapter 63 In Philip’s Dream?
My voice sounded calm and steady, but only I knew how nervous I was when I said those words.
This was a huge gamble, betting on human weakness, betting on their instinctive avoidance of "danger."
Anna's bright blue eyes locked onto me, her expression as complex as a knocked-over paint palette. She probably never dreamed that her casual probing remark would make "Carl Frost"—this man of unfathomable power in their eyes—give up his own magic so decisively.
She opened her mouth, and finally only managed to say, "...you didn't have to do that."
Yes, I had voluntarily given it up.
The moment I recited the temporary binding spell, I could clearly see the guarded wariness in everyone else's eyes gradually fade away.
Their tense bodies relaxed, and some even unconsciously let out a breath.
This was exactly the effect I wanted.
I knew my situation all too well. "Carl's" identity was like a huge target, drawing everyone's attention to me.
In this inheritance ceremony full of unknowns and dangers, I, this "most powerful wizard," was undoubtedly the biggest threat in everyone's eyes. I could pretty much guess what they were thinking: during the "free-for-all killing time" when clues were scarce, if someone decided to make a move, I would definitely be eliminated first.
After all, a person can only kill one person. If you don't know who to kill, then eliminate the most dangerous one first, just to be safe.
But they didn't know that I wasn't the real Carl at all.
I was just an outsider who had stumbled into this dream, a rookie wizard. As long as anyone here had murderous intent toward me, I would die immediately, without even a chance to fight back. So I had to protect myself first.
I had long seen through Anna's personality—she was the type who said whatever came to mind and did whatever she thought of.
I had spoken up twice in a row, which would definitely arouse her suspicion, and she would definitely voice it without hiding anything. When that happened, I could take advantage of the situation and seal my own spellcasting ability in front of everyone.
I didn't have any real power anyway, so sealing my magic was just another way to survive.
This way, even if people still suspected I was the killer, they wouldn't rush to attack me.
After all, a "powerful wizard" who had lost his magic was like a sheep in a pen—could be subdued and killed at any time, no need to rush.
I had successfully crossed myself off the death list for "the first night."
But that wasn't enough.
I had roughly figured out the rules and winning conditions of this inheritance ceremony.
If I just wanted to survive, then regardless of who the killer was or whether I needed to kill them, I just needed to drag the ceremony out until "only four people remain."
To achieve this, my best choice was to blend in with the crowd and secretly help the killer.
And if I wanted a perfect clear, I would need to backstab and kill the real killer with the "Wasp" when five people remained, and do it so quietly that they would be murdered on a timer without even knowing it.
Simply put, my role was that of a "mole."
Whichever choice I made, I needed to make the killer—my "teammate"—aware of my existence and believe I was on their side.
After I sealed my spellcasting ability, the atmosphere in the hall did ease up quite a bit. Everyone's tense nerves relaxed, and the looks they gave me became more complex, perhaps with a hint of barely noticeable guilt. After all, I had voluntarily made a concession, giving up my advantage. Although this didn't really benefit them, human instinct is such that people feel a strange sense of guilt toward those who voluntarily show weakness. And that sense of guilt was exactly what I wanted.
I seized the opportunity and made my earlier suggestion again, "Why don't we find a place to sit down and have a proper talk?"
This suggestion had no downside for anyone, and could even be considered beneficial.
In this situation, they instinctively went along with my suggestion. This was my chance. What I needed to do was become the "leader" of this temporary group, even if just a useless temporary captain. Because humans have a lazy instinct—once they get used to following someone's lead, without encountering major setbacks or temptations, they'll instinctively continue this habit rather than easily questioning or resisting.
Like class committee elections in high school—even though you could choose better people, everyone often sticks with the initial choice because making a new choice requires effort and risks being isolated. I wanted them to form this mental inertia. Get them used to following my lead, so that when I slipped in some personal agenda during decision-making, they would instinctively think about "whether it's doable" rather than questioning "whether we should do it."
Led by Austin, we came to an elegantly decorated café.
Flames crackled in the fireplace, dispelling the chill in the air. Soon we had coffee brewing, its rich aroma filling the air. The other seven people actually followed my suggestion, sitting around a huge oak table, calmly drinking coffee. The atmosphere became strangely harmonious for a moment.
"Mmm..." Olivia took a sip of warm coffee and let out a satisfied sigh, her whole body lazily sprawled on the table as if melting into a puddle. Her tense nerves completely relaxed, all previous vigilance and wariness vanishing without a trace.
"Speaking of which," she suddenly looked up at Selene sitting across from her and asked, "I remember you're a famous wizard in British magical circles..."
Before she could finish, Anna cut her off. Anna easily saw through Olivia's thoughts and directly called out what she was getting at, "You want to question why she was selected, right?" Anna's expression was somewhat complex. She looked at Selene, her lips moving as if organizing her words.
Just then, Eugene, who had been silent all along, spoke up.
This was the first time he had spoken since entering the White Tower. His voice was distant and ethereal, as if carrying some divine quality, sounding especially clear in the quiet café, "Because she was expelled from British wizarding circles. Rumor has it she joined The Bone Council and is now a wandering dark wizard."
"What?!" I almost exclaimed in surprise.
In the last dream, Selene was still the good person who fought the dark wizard Klaus and protected Anna. How had she become a dark wizard in such a short time? This huge contrast left me somewhat unable to accept it. I looked at Selene. Hearing Eugene's words, a flash of pain and helplessness crossed her face. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end just sighed, lowered her eyes, and said nothing.
Her silence was essentially an admission of Eugene's words.
The other wizards' faces also showed obvious interest, their eyes circling around Selene. They wanted to hear the story but felt it was too forward to ask directly, so they could only express their curiosity through their gazes.
"So then," Olivia looked somewhat puzzled at the gaunt old man beside her with sunken cheeks and deep eye sockets, looking rather listless, "this one who hasn't been speaking..."
"My name is Armando Gomez." The old man spoke flatly, his voice hoarse.
"Gomez? What's your relationship to Otis Gomez, the first chairman of the Wizard Council?" Olivia's eyes lit up immediately, full of curiosity.
"That was my grandfather," Armando said calmly.
Hearing this answer, everyone's eyes sharpened, their faces showing surprise. The grandson of the first Wizard Council chairman—this was no ordinary identity. I thought to myself that if Bone Lord were here, he would surely mock him harshly, but clearly, the others had grown up hearing this name and were full of awe for this family. Armando raised his head and slowly stood up. He rose somewhat clumsily and bowed deeply to everyone, formally greeting them.
"Now that we all know each other." Eugene spoke again, his voice still distant and ethereal, "I just suddenly had a thought I'd like to share with you all."
Everyone's attention focused on him.
"I think everyone might not have noticed before. A detail in Philip's suicide note... that is, the point about 'the killer also cannot kill.'" Eugene paused, then continued, "Has anyone considered that Philip's death location might not be inside the White Tower? If that's the case, then the killer should be able to kill, because they didn't trigger the binding."
"But if Philip died inside the tower, then there are roughly only two possibilities... The first is that the killer has already lifted Philip's curse oath, in which case they should have already inherited the headmaster position. The second is..."
He paused here, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.
Everyone's expressions changed—they clearly understood what Eugene meant. The atmosphere in the café instantly became heavy, the air seeming to freeze. In this silence, I took a deep breath and was the first to speak, "You mean..."
"We're all in Philip's dream right now?"