The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
Chapter 41: The Celestial Voice (4)
It was a clear afternoon in November.
A crowd of 100,000 people gathered at the Baran Dome.
"Is 100,000 a lot? It sounds like a big number, but seeing it in person really makes it feel massive, right?"
Evelyn asked as she looked at the waiting spectators.
"One hundred thousand people... Yes, it is,"
Oscar replied.
He had seen gatherings of millions during the wars against the demons, but this felt different.
The atmosphere was tense back then, but now, the crowd's faces were full of excitement and anticipation.
If he captured this scene in a photo labeled "Feeling of 100,000," it would probably sell well.
"Stop daydreaming and focus!"
Marin jabbed him in the side as she scrutinised the crowd through her binoculars.
"Focus on what, exactly?"
"Someone here wants me dead, remember? We need to spot anyone acting suspicious."
"Oh, that."
Oscar chuckled and shook his head.
"If there's an assassin, they're probably already inside the dome."
"What? That's impossible! The audience hasn’t even started entering yet."
"What kind of assassin would enter by paying for a ticket to kill their target?"
Realizing the truth in his words, Marin’s face turned slightly red.
"Then how would they get in?"
"Through the proper channels,"
Oscar shrugged with a smirk.
"That doesn’t even make sense with what you just said! Are you teasing me?"
"Top-class assassins can adapt to any situation and play any role with great acting skills. Especially if they have backing, like Ara Sweet. Getting into Baran Dome as a worker would be child's play."
"So... does that mean there’s an assassin working among our staff? Good heavens!"
"No, by now, they're probably...”
Oscar glanced at his wristwatch.
There were still two hours until the performance started.
"...hiding somewhere after abandoning their post."
"Hey, what’s wrong with spotlight #3? Did they replace the bulb? Check it."
"Costume team! Line up the replacement outfits in the correct order! Wait, what size is this? It’s a size too big!"
A singer shines brilliantly on stage only because of the crew frantically working backstage to support them.
“Phew, it’s been ages since I’ve been this crazy busy before a performance.”
“Well, it’s Marin’s first solo concert, and the venue is none other than the Baran Dome.”
"True. I thought I had enough experience, but even for me, this is a whole new level."
Staff close to Marin had come to Baran to help with her concert.
They had been preparing for a month, but on the actual day, all they could see were the things they’d missed.
"Still, we were short-handed, but the local workers we hired did a surprisingly good job, so we’re on schedule."
"Baran is a city of booze and gambling. If you pay enough, skilled hands are everywhere."
At that moment, the lighting director approached them urgently.
"Hey, have any of you seen the newest member of the lighting team?"
"The newbie?"
"You know, the well-built guy. He went off to replace a bulb and never came back. We’re short on time!"
"Is he one of the local hires from Baran?"
The lighting director’s eyes widened at the question.
"Yes, he is. How did you know?"
"It’s typical for local hires here. He’s either drinking or his hands are itching for the casino. Yesterday, another guy vanished from the production team. Probably the same story."
"Of course. That explains it."
Two workers had disappeared over the last two days without saying a word.
It was common enough in this industry that no one gave it much thought.
"By the way, I couldn’t help but overhear. What did those two look like?"
Oscar Crucian was the only one who took it seriously.
On the third floor of Baran Dome, in the men's restroom, a cubicle at the far end had a [Under Repair] sign hanging on the door, firmly locked.
The man squatting on the toilet checked his watch, then stood up slowly.
‘The show should start soon. It’s time to move.’
Crack, snap!
He stretched his stiff limbs, his face showing signs of deep irritation.
‘Who would’ve thought I’d be stuck waiting in this dump for an entire day?’
But for the payout, he could put up with the discomfort.
If this job went well, he and his brother would receive 5 million bels.
This was also their ‘last job’ together, and it could be a fond memory later on.
‘First, I meet up with Dokgo and locate that bodyguard.’
They were proud assassins from Yan who specialized in poisons and hidden weapons, ranking among the top three in Baran.
But after researching their target, they knew they needed to team up.
Killian Lockwood.
Known as the 'rising star' from the White Tower, one of the four great towers of magic.
‘His combat style is a mix of physical enhancement and rapid movement.’
He was arrogant to the core, both in looks and actions, and that irritated them.
Disclosing one’s name in their line of work was as good as revealing a weakness.
‘It’s just a shame for him that he’ll be facing us at the height of his arrogance.’
They were infamous in Baran, especially for assassinations.
The rendezvous point was Room 403, a floor above.
As the man pushed open the cubicle door, he froze.
The target was washing his hands at the sink, his back turned.
No one else was in the restroom.
It was the perfect moment to strike.
But his target was a Level 4, just like him.
Without his brother, a successful attack wasn’t guaranteed.
If he missed, the outcome could be fatal.
Reluctantly, he held back his urge to strike and instead followed the plan to regroup with his brother.
He casually removed the [Under Repair] sign and started to walk past the sinks.
The sound of running water filled the silence.
The target suddenly murmured,
"Having calluses on your fingertips rather than your palms means you handle weapons, doesn’t it?"
Glancing sideways, the man saw his reflection in the mirror.
Those red eyes were watching him.
"Are you, by chance, an assassin?"
Had he been found out?
His mind raced. Should he throw a weapon now?
Had his identity really been exposed?
If it had, would it be wiser to just run?
Seeing his hesitation, Oscar nodded slightly.
"The fact that you're thinking it over confirms it. An assassin."
Splat!
Oscar tossed a bar of soap behind him without looking back.
Instinctively sensing he couldn’t avoid the fight, Woojin made the best choice he could under the circumstances.
‘Instead of taking a hit, I’ll just scatter my own weapons too.’
His hands flicked open as he firmed up his resolve, scattering hundreds of needles.
A side note: today, his condition was perfect.
He could feel every sensation through his fingertips.
‘This time, there’s no way they’ll dodge it.’
That certainty arose in him just as—
Crack!
"...Ugh?!"
His right shoulder shattered under the impact of soap.
Who would’ve guessed that much mana had been compressed into a bar of soap?
‘But no matter.’
Exchanging his opponent’s life for his own shoulder?
Not a bad trade.
He lifted one corner of his mouth, awaiting the inevitable scream.
‘No matter how skilled they are in martial arts, this is not the kind of attack one can avoid. Even if they’re lucky enough to evade a few needles—maybe even dozens—they can’t dodge all hundreds of them.’
“Guh... Aaaagh!”
A hundred needles lodged into the opponent's face, and they collapsed, screaming.
Twitch.
Watching their body convulse like an aspen tree, it was clear the poison had spread completely.
It was an instant kill.
“Hah... Hah...”
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Woojin let out a breath of relief.
In truth, being a weapon specialist, close combat wasn’t his strength.
It was frustrating, but it was also the reason he often played second fiddle to his younger brother.
‘This opponent must be an inexperienced rookie—lucky me.’
The tips of his needles were coated in a lethal poison his younger brother Dokgo used.
One prick was fatal enough, but hundreds of needle pricks?
Even if the Pope himself were to arrive, they wouldn’t be able to save him.
‘But I better finish them off just in case. There are people immune to poison out there, after all.’
He drew a dagger from his belt with his good left hand and approached the corpse, thrusting with all his might at the neck.
It wouldn’t go in.
The dagger seemed to hit an invisible wall, stopping just short of piercing their skin.
‘This is... wind?’
A powerful gust was pushing his dagger back.
The moment he realized this, Woojin’s face went pale.
“No way...”
And those needles he thought had lodged into their face?
Just as that thought occurred, the opponent’s hand suddenly shot up, grabbing his wrist.
Simultaneously, clatter-clatter!
Hundreds of needles that had been fixed in place by the wind dropped to the ground.
“This... this is impossible...”
It was a level of magical control so precise it sent chills down his spine.
Had even a single needle fallen, or been positioned just a little off, he would have noticed something was amiss.
‘This guy is just a level 4 mage? Ridiculous!’
The moment Woojin realized something had gone terribly wrong—
Click.
The barrel of a sawed-off shotgun in the opponent’s opposite hand pointed under his chin.
“No... don’t.”
As Woojin’s trembling voice escaped, knowing what was about to happen—
“It’s happening.”
Bang!
His head was blown off.
By 8 p.m., the stage lights at the Baran Dome switched off simultaneously, plunging the entire dome into darkness.
The audience held their breath, faces filled with excitement as they waited for someone.
Thud, thud, thud!
A familiar, intense drumbeat pulsed from the stage.
“It’s her! It’s Sunny Smile!”
“I knew this would be the first song.”
“Ah, I’ve been a fan of Marin since the first time I heard this song.”
It was Marin Maria’s debut track, “Sunny Smile.”
The unique, bright, and upbeat melody, along with her beautiful voice, echoed through everyone’s ears.
—Like warm sunlight, your dazzling smile ♪ A magic that brightens the whole world.
As the young diva took the stage, her stunning live performance electrified the crowd.
The cheers were deafening, ringing in everyone’s ears and shaking the ground beneath their feet.
“...He’s late.”
Dokgo, Woojin’s younger brother, glanced impatiently at his wristwatch, feeling the vibrations.
His brother hadn’t shown up at the appointed place, despite the agreed-upon time.
‘Nothing’s happened to him... has it?’
Imagining the worst, he started to worry.
Just then, click, clack.
He heard footsteps echoing from the hallway, and relief washed over him.
“Phew...”
Most people might think all footsteps sound the same, but to a veteran assassin, every person had their own sound.
There was no mistaking his brother’s footsteps.
‘What on earth kept you?’
Just as he prepared to give his brother a scolding, he realized the footsteps had walked right past the supply closet.
‘That idiot...’
He’d reminded him several times to come to Room 407 on the 4th floor this time.
Muttering to himself, Dokgo opened the supply closet door and called out irritably.
“Bro! Over here...”
His voice trailed off when he saw the back of a stranger.
Freeze.
The figure imitating his brother’s footsteps halted and slowly turned around.
“Oh, there you are, hiding?”
It was the red-eyed mage—one of the targets of this mission.

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