Diary of a Dead Wizard

Chapter 113: Black Castle

“Senior Byron, why were you hanging from a tree like a human skin?” Saul asked, deadpan, as Byron climbed back into the carriage.

He had really thought Byron was some kind of monster just now!

“Uh…” Byron seemed a bit embarrassed. He glanced at the coachman, who had already been healed and resumed driving, a small crack still visible on his neck. “I just… took a bath.”

So you hung yourself up to dry afterwards?

Saul was speechless.

As they chatted, they arrived at the gates of the Black Castle.

Saul and Byron got out of the carriage one after the other.

Saul looked at the driver, who still had a slightly wilted mushroom cap on his head, and reminded him, “The mushroom on your head isn’t really a problem anymore. It’ll naturally fall off in a couple of days once it withers.”

In fact, the mushroom had already lost its earlier plumpness and looked a bit droopy.

The usually emotionless coachman suddenly looked up, eyes brimming with tears, and dropped to his knees with a loud thud.

The mushroom umbrella smashed into the ground with a thump.

The coachman didn’t say a word—because no words could express his feelings.

Having survived all this time at the Tower, he already understood the rules of survival.

If you’re useful, you live.

Still, he kowtowed twice toward Saul’s back. The mushroom umbrella struck the ground again, then was pulled out, now looking even more wilted.

Though Saul didn’t turn back, he heard everything behind him.

“It was actually you who saved him,” Byron said.

“Mhm.” Byron nodded at Saul and pointed at him.

Saul understood—Byron was acknowledging that Saul hadn’t abandoned the coachman.

Byron’s mouth split into a grin. “The coachman is a tool. When traveling, one should take care to maintain and protect their tools.”

His words sounded heartless, but that was just the way of wizard. As long as something was useful, it was worth protecting.

The two approached the narrow entrance of the castle.

The door itself was just as narrow—one meter wide and four meters tall. Anyone a bit chubby wouldn’t be able to squeeze through.

Byron stepped forward and lightly knocked twice with his knuckles.

Saul could feel it—those two knocks were laced with magic.

Suddenly, a vertical pupil split open in the center of the door, layers of rune arrays forming its iris.

The eye scanned Byron’s entire body, then turned to Saul behind him.

Then the pupil closed, and the door swung open outward with a click.

“The Black Castle’s gate opens outward to let people in. If it opens inward, that’s for material transport. Don’t go in by mistake,” Byron explained as he led the way. Saul followed closely behind.

Once they passed through, the door closed behind them automatically.

The inside of the castle wasn’t gloomy or frightening—on the contrary, it was lavishly decorated.

But the decorations shared that same narrow aesthetic.

The main hall’s ceiling was ten meters high, with a crystal chandelier hanging down five meters from the top.

It swayed gently, looking like it could fall at any moment.

The hall itself was only about three meters wide, but stretched several dozen meters in length. At the far end was a symmetrical spiral staircase, each step barely a meter wide.

Not fat-friendly at all.

As Saul took in the interior, a dark green branch suddenly slithered out from the door behind him. It looked like the shriveled hand of a corpse, silently reaching toward the back of Saul’s head.

The hand twisted into a claw, inching closer to Saul’s neck.

Suddenly, a black tentacle shot out from behind Saul’s neck and cleanly wrapped around the creeping branch, performing a deadly chokehold followed by a wild spinning whip—instantly destroying the attacker.

By the time Byron and Saul turned around at the sound, all that remained on the floor were a few snapped pieces of dry twigs.

Byron saw the branches and immediately knew who was behind it.

“Hmm?” he grunted toward the hall.

“Hehe, don’t be mad, don’t be mad!” came a voice behind them.

Saul turned around again to see a tall, thin man walking down the stairs.

He was over two meters tall but as skinny as a bamboo pole.

Byron glared coldly. “Hmm!”

“Got it, got it,” the man replied with a smile. He bent over, hands on his knees, and grinned at Saul. “Hello, hello! You must be Saul. I’m the Black Castle warden from the Tower. My name is Mochi Mochi.”

Saul hesitated—was his name really Mochi Mochi, or was he just repeating it out of habit?

“Hello… Mr. Mochi Mochi.”

The man kept smiling, his eyebrows curving like parentheses.

“Don’t be angry, don’t be angry. I was just curious—curious about who helped Byron become a Third Rank before turning 30. I was thinking if the Tower kicked him out, maybe I’d reluctantly let him help me guard the door.”

“Just got lucky,” Saul answered modestly.

Mochi Mochi looked even more delighted.

“Oh, I like you, I like you, little one. You’re so skinny—good-looking, just like me. My mentor is Mentor Anze. Is he yours too?”

“I’m under Mentor Kaz.”

“Oh, Kaz is good too, just a bit boring.”

Byron: “Hmm?”

“…I mean I’m the one who lacks composure, haha, not composed at all.”

“I’ll take Saul to his room. You can go,” Byron said, no longer wanting to waste time. Seeing that Saul had come alone, full of questions, he didn’t want to let Mochi Mochi ramble on.

“Sure, sure.” Mochi Mochi stepped to the side and opened up the hallway, smiling as he watched the two head upstairs.

Byron led Saul up the right staircase to the second floor and brought him to a narrow room shaped like a coffin.

“Why’d you come here alone? Where’s Nick?”

Saul quickly gave a brief rundown of what happened in Grind Sail Town.

Byron’s expression darkened as he listened.

He opened his mouth, revealing sharp teeth.

“Saul, remember this: No matter who takes the task, if you haven’t seen the actual task details yourself, you are not to complete it for them.”

Saul was stunned. “Was there something more to this task?”

“Think about it—Grinding Sound Fruit calms the mind. If someone inside the Tower needed it, who do you think that would be?”

Saul froze for a second, then realized. “Nick? But if he needed the fruit, why didn’t he go himself?”

“That’s the issue. His task was simply to visit the town and convey the Tower’s stance. But he claimed he also had a secret task—to investigate the fruit’s decline in yield. But do you know for sure that such a secret task even exists? All you have is a scolding letter from Mentor Rum, right?”

Saul’s face grew grim.

“And even if he asked you to find out the cause, did he say you had to solve it? What if you found out who was behind it—then what? How would you deal with them? You don’t even know, because you weren’t the one assigned the mission.”

Saul realized just how careless he’d been.

Since his first aptitude test, when he caught the eye of several mentors, he hadn’t received special treatment, per se—but danger in everyday life had certainly decreased. Even his diary rarely warned him of death anymore.

Despite constantly reminding himself to stay alert, his vigilance had definitely slipped a bit.

“Senior, are you saying Nick deliberately sent me to Grind Sail Town? But… why? What would he gain?”

He asked aloud—but was really asking himself.

Were there any powerful enemies in Grind Sail Town? Even if someone wanted to use the barbarians to kill him, it didn’t seem likely.

Saul might not win, but he could definitely escape.

Did Nick know what was going on in the town?

As Saul pondered, Byron casually muttered, “When Nick gets here, we’ll ask him.”

Saul looked up in surprise, then chuckled. “Right. We’ll ask him first.”

Crossing his arms, Saul added, “If I hadn’t suddenly advanced to Second Rank, those red-skinned barbarians really would’ve been a problem. Nick definitely owes me extra compensation.”

Byron: “…Mmm?”

Byron gave Saul a second look—only now realizing that his First Rank assistant had upgraded on his own.

The reward he’d planned for Saul… might’ve been a little too low.

(End of Chapter)