"Does your teacher want you to choose a path similar to mine?"
Amid a familiar scent of alcohol, the words rang out—the first thing Ruger heard upon returning to his quarters.
Ruger froze for a moment. Following Wizard Zorn's gaze, he saw his tattered wizard's robe, and naturally, the exposed chest beneath it was covered in fur.
"My lord, a wizard has returned. He was asking about you yesterday."
He bowed to Zorn. Naturally, he knew Wizard Zorn was teasing him, making a little joke.
Zorn lounged crookedly in a chair in the hall and cast a glance toward the upper floor.
"Probably a curse?" Wizard Zorn took out a bottle of wine. "The moment I returned, I sensed a trace of disharmonious power. As long as you and that boy weren't the ones who caused it, it's fine. She should be all right. Just try not to go near her."
"Disharmony?"
Ruger blurted out the question without thinking.
Along with going with the flow, he naturally swallowed the slight hesitation that had arisen halfway through his words.
Zorn glanced at Ruger.
"Just a kind of curse. There will be discordant sounds when one speaks, discordant force when one exerts strength. The whole person becomes rather like the concept of losing control, yet it isn't actually losing control. Words and actions that normally would never appear begin to surface. When someone is entangled by this cursed power, the best thing to do is lock themselves in a room. Ordinary people who lose control might do dangerous things. Powerful wizards can resist it, though they may still make fools of themselves."
As Zorn spoke, he raised the wine bottle to his lips.
Ruger nodded deeply in agreement.
Seeing Wizard Zorn turn his chair around and begin drinking the insect wine from