I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills

Chapter 58 Forgetting First Love

But it must be forgotten.

‘That world no longer exists.’

“Mr. Kraush, I am a greedy person. And with what happened to Aslan, I fear that my greed will only grow. So please, do not be too kind to me.”

The words Lirina had spoken while sobbing on the day of Aslan’s death, as she pulled away from his embrace, resurfaced in his mind. Who did she think held back their desires with such words?

Kraush had been truly shocked then.

But he understood later, after Aslan’s death, when he took in the despondent Lirina as his direct maid.

Shortly after, during a surge of world erosion in Balheim, he lost the Green Pine Mansion along with her. He came to realize he was a fool who didn’t even know how to be greedy.

‘If only I had been greedy.’

Kraush could never forget the repeated pangs of pain and grief.

But time has a peculiar way about it. The pain, given time, gradually disappears.

Lirina’s death had occurred in the early days when the world’s erosion went rampant. After a great deal of suffering in the Skyborne Generation, he had somewhat forgotten the pain of losing Lirina.

How else could he have considered going on a date with a woman who had inexplicably followed him around?

‘Well, all of that became meaningless anyway.’

Mary Diana, that damnable incident at the new tower, prevented the date from happening. Since that day, she never spoke to him much again.

And all things, including those with Lirina, are now as if they never happened.

Because the Lirina before him is different from the one he knew.

“Unfortunately, the girlfriend part isn’t the case.”

Thus, Kraush smiled slowly at her.

She is Lirina, Aslan’s personal maid.

And now also his personal maid, unchanged in the future.

Kraush’s first love no longer exists.

It ended a very long time ago. On the day she died, he ended that love quietly in front of her dead body.

‘Snow Doll.’

The brief surge of emotion was smothered by the ‘Snow Doll’ and vanished deep down.

“Lirina.”

Thanks to that, Kraush could now call her name in a different way.

“Let’s conspire together to keep Aslan alive.”

And make sure she could live on as well.

When Kraush proposed this, Lirina fell silent, then raised her head resolutely.

“When I said to tell you anything, I wasn’t lying.”

“Yes, you are trustworthy.”

“Well then, command me. What should I do?”

Watching her, expectantly lifting the hem of her skirt as if waiting for an order, Kraush let out a faint laugh.

Then, he told her a piece of news that would make her flinch.

“Aslan will attempt a self-immolation tomorrow.”

True enough, Lirina’s body stiffened.

“In the meantime, I want you and Grim to search the auxiliary master’s room for Dorothy’s crystal.”

Once more, Lirina froze at the continued command.

“…You really do tell me to do anything.”

Her expression was one of utter bewilderment.

***

Flame Lord

Agatha Igrit

A 7th class Adeptus Mago Magus.

A mature master in the aura, she was one of the world’s magicians who commanded respect. She had grown into a middle-aged woman with wrinkles and was lost in thought with a pen in her hand in her room.josei

Recently, she found herself deep in contemplation often. The main reason was due to her disgraceful son.

When she first conceived her child, Agatha loved her son more than anyone could. But as he grew up, she noticed an anomaly within her son. It was the fact he was born with the Lunar Body.

Possessing the yin and yang of the moon, Aslan was unable to learn Igrit’s flame magic. This essentially meant her son could neither endear himself to the Igrit family nor become its head.

Despite this, Agatha remained fond of her son. Even at a young age, he diligently studied magic and showed talent in it. If not for the Lunar Body, he would have been a son anyone could be proud of.

Such were the thoughts of a mother.

However, the perception of those around her was different.

Specifically, after hearing the words of her father and Aslan’s grandfather, one of the Ten Great Lords, the Flame Emperor, she finally realized how everyone viewed her son.

“Aslan will discontinue his succession with the Igrit family.”

“Father!”

She had called this father more often as head of the family rather than a parent. Despite this, both she and Aslan were of the Flame Emperor’s lineage.

“Aslan is your grandson! To give up his succession—then what is he supposed to do with his life!”

Albeit, the Flame Emperor never once affectionately treated her as his child.

Knowing how difficult that truth was, Agatha cherished and loved Aslan all the more.

She hoped, even in her father’s heart, there was a fondness for her and her son.

“Haah, you auxiliary family head.”

Yet, the Flame Emperor was a completely different person.

Before being Agatha’s father, he was the head of Igrit.

He prioritized the future of the Igrit family and the Red Tower over the love of his kin. It was the Red Tower after all, an entity that preached utmost magic supremacy.

Could someone who couldn’t even use the flame magic that the Igrits nurtured throughout their lives bear the family name and make it ring through the Igrit family?

It would be stranger if he did not bring shame upon the family.

Thus, the Flame Emperor had long closed his heart to Aslan.

“In three years at the tower, even a dog learns to recite spells. But Aslan can’t even become a dog of the tower. If he’s made heir, he will only tarnish the Igrit’s reputation.”

Agatha’s eyes bulged open the moment she heard those words.

It was inconceivable to compare her grandson, Aslan, to a mere dog of the tower.

“I could’ve held you responsible for delivering such a child. Did I not repeatedly tell you? That man you brought home will give birth to a child that will not serve the Igrit family.”

Agatha’s eyes trembled.

The Flame Emperor had opposed several times the husband she brought to wed.

Nevertheless, against his opposition, she shared affection with him, eventually conceiving Aslan and going through with the wedding.

Her husband, though not afflicted with the Lunar Body, was born with a weak constitution.

Eventually, under the pressure of the Igrit family and their disdainful eyes, he grew mentally ill and fell physically sick, dying young.

Knowing such a cause of death, she couldn’t accept what her father was saying.

It might be her own greed that caused her husband’s death.

But now, the Igrit family and its head sought to eradicate her son.

Rage washed over her, and she trembled in fury.

“You said you’d never bear another’s child. So, there’s a girl in the Red Tower. Born with flame magic talent. I’ll adopt her as my own daughter.”

Shocked by his continuous proclamation, Agatha nearly collapsed.

The Flame Emperor had truly forsaken Aslan.

After that, she investigated the child her father intended to adopt.

Her name was Abella. Though not yet officially adopted, her talent was real.

Even at her young age, mastering flame magic as if it was her own hand, Abella was a prodigy the Igrit family rarely produced.

Agatha grew anxious after learning about her—pondering the real possibility that her son could be discarded by the Igrit family.

Especially her father; he was certain to do so. He served only the family’s interests.

After that event, Agatha began to change.

The hand that once stroked Aslan’s hair in praise began to strike him harshly, coercing him to master magic.

She gathered all the medicinal elixirs in the world to combat Aslan’s Lunar Body, forcing him to take them until he vomited.

“Don’t be weak! You are Igrit’s future that will lead the family! Get up! Aslan! Use your magic now!”

She bellowed at Aslan, who had collapsed from exhausting his mana.

If this continued, her son would forever be abandoned by the Igrit family.

Agatha couldn’t stand by and let that happen, regretful to her already deceased husband.

So she was ruthless.

She taught him harshly, scolded him, and forced efforts to change his constitution.

Yet Aslan endured steadfastly. He was a strong child, just like her.

However, Agatha didn’t notice that something inside him was gradually rotting—just as something within herself was also decaying.

Eventually, their relationship headed toward catastrophe.

That day, when she saw Aslan being attacked by a spirit in the burnt dorms of the academy.

Without any hesitation, she rushed forward and burned the spirit with her own hands.

There was no moment of doubt when it came to saving her son.

But thereafter, Aslan was utterly broken.

Agatha learned too late about the relationship he had formed with that spirit.

Because afterwards, she too became aware of how desperately he searched through many spirit-related books.

But she couldn’t accept it.

For Igrit, spirits were taboos.

The very idea that mingling with spirits could spell the absolute end of Aslan’s life was unbearable.

If that news ever reached the Flame Emperor, she knew better than anyone the terrible outcome that awaited.

In her eyes, spirits were nothing more than erosive beings that would ruin Aslan’s future.

So she chastised him repeatedly, but he did not change.

However, when he realized he couldn’t revive the spirit.

Aslan was completely shattered.

He nearly ceased eating and locked himself in his room.

Agatha tried repeatedly to visit, forcibly lifting him and feeding him.

She no longer knew how to be kind to Aslan.

After treating him harshly for nearly a decade.

But Aslan’s eyes remained lifeless as he looked at her.

He was just like a puppet with snapped strings.

That’s when Aslan’s suicide attempts began.

“Ah, ah.”

Agatha covered her face with both hands.

What should she have done?

The world is vast and dangerous.

Without the Igrit family’s protection, living any life was tantamount to a death sentence—especially for Aslan, born with the Lunar Body.

Even if it meant being hated by him, she had wanted her son to stay with the Igrit family.

But such actions led to the worst-case scenario.

‘Where did it all go wrong?’

She didn’t know.

Too much time had passed, too many things had gone awry for her to comprehend.

Her eyes drifted to the drawer.

Inside was the crystal she had found in the ashes of the burnt spirit.

Somehow she had kept it, but she never told Aslan.

“Ms. Agatha!”

Just then, the door flung open without a knock.

Startled, Agatha looked up to see the pale-faced stewardess.

“Stewardess?”

“Ah, Mr. Aslan!”

Her reaction immediately hardened Agatha’s face.

It was already the second time this month she had come searching so urgently.

Agatha could tell, just by that expression, what had happened.

Aslan had once again attempted suicide.

“He’s attempting self-immolation!”

But this time, the news was of a different magnitude.

Self-immolation, a suicide by setting oneself on fire.

Unlike other suicide attempts, failed self-immolations leave severe aftereffects.

Agatha’s face turned deathly pale at the notion of her son choosing such a horrifying end.

“Quickly, lead the way!”

Agatha kicked open the door and bolted out.

All the while, unaware of someone quietly appearing in the corridor outside her room.