Magic Tower Undergraduate (1)
Security Bureau headquarters of the Imperial Domain Equillium.
Vice Director Premien's days were never peaceful.
Dozens of unregistered Altiegue were captured daily, Betan was obsessed with inventing blood magic to distinguish them, and the desert chieftains offered only vague warnings to "take care."
"...This one."
On such dull, monotonous days atop thin ice, her edge sharpened like a needle.
Premien asked the Intelligence Agency staffer, her face as sharp as a paper cut.
"Why is this name on the list?"
"It's on the surveillance and observation list drafted by upper command."
"..."
The suited Imperial Intelligence agent replied formulaically.
These damn bastards were always like this. Were they just gathering idiots, or did they neuter emotions during training?
But this name was too special to overlook casually.
[Watch List for Notable Observers]
Sylvia von Yuseffin Illayde
"If the Illaydes fell out of His Majesty's favor, you'd handle it yourselves. Seeing you pawn it off like this... the eunuchs must have asked."
Even Intelligence couldn't touch the Illayde family easily.
They abhorred anything surfacing above water, avoiding investigations of great houses without imperial orders.
"Intelligence has been conducting its own surveillance and investigation. This isn't pawning—it's a cooperation request. Cooperate, and we'll hand over the relevant files."
Premien tapped the list. A sign of agreement.
The agent slid over documents.
Article 3, Clause 3: Suspected 2nd-degree magic murder
Article 8, Clause 1: Invention of high-grade dangerous magic
Imperial Intelligence Law Article 1, Clause 8: Associating with Rohakan's old comrade 'Idnik'
Summary: High-risk subject requiring close observation
"Did this Sylvia kill someone?"
"Precisely, a spell created by the caster devoured a person. A similar incident occurred on the Floating Island, resolved with a jewel-like 'immunity privilege.'"
"And?"
"The Floating Island matter was settled, but murders within the empire fall under imperial jurisdiction. The investigation is ongoing—"
"Who do you take me for, an idiot?"
Premien leaned back in her chair, glaring alternately at the two agents.
"Kill a few people, and with that level of talent, no one can punish her. Push too hard, she defects abroad, and the empire loses. That's the kind of 'asset' you all crave for your precious 'Great Empire.'"
Realistically, only the Floating Island, Verhert, or the emperor himself could punish a mage of Sylvia's caliber.
"Yet she's under surveillance because of this Rohakan and Idnik business."
"Vice Director Premien. It's your job now too."
Premien smirked wordlessly, her eyes ever indifferent.
"Even if it is, handling it myself would be inefficient. A mage's physiology is understood only by mages. I need a peer consultant—a mage."
"Any suitable candidate?"
Premien thought of someone.
The most effective for persuasion, capture, or interrogation.
Also, the dangerous element she herself monitored closely.
But one she'd have to pamper like a lord to recruit.
"Deculein."
...
The Magic Tower's 77th floor.
Premien surveyed the impeccably clean office, even sniffing the air.
Surprisingly, a faint soap scent.
Scritch-scritch—
Deculein pored over the 50-page cooperation request, his expression cold as if reading a novel.
"It's not that serious. We'll form our own surveillance team; just provide minimal assistance."
Deculein looked up. Premien continued calmly.
"Is she entangled in crime, or turning criminal from bad friends? Merely observation."
"..."
"No imprisonment. Just correction before she strays further. Sylvia's talent requires national oversight."
Deculein picked up his pen. Premien watched his hand.
He signed without a word.
"As expected of her former mentor."
Her certainty that Deculein wouldn't refuse proved right.
"...Vice Director Premien."
A furrow creased his brow.
"Yes."
"Don't overstep."
"...Yes."
Premien handed over a crystal orb.
A direct line to the Security Bureau's secret "Sylvia Task Force."
"Communicate via this. Periodic team meetings, and relevant files—"
"One condition."
"You've already signed."
...He wouldn't renege suddenly, would he?
Premien reached for the signed document.
He spoke.
"Invest one more person. Sylvia's mother, Cielia."
Her hand froze mid-reach. Premien looked up dryly at Deculein.
Shadows darkened his face.
An unexpected pallor.
"Her entire life. The trajectory of her existence."
Head professor of the university tower, Yukline patriarch Deculein.
Wasn't he the cold-blooded type from whom no blood would spill even if stabbed?
Wasn't he the one suppressing Altiegue?
"Report it to me."
Yet now, this man Deculein... seemed concerned for Sylvia?
"...Would knowing that help the case?"
Premien countered.
He said nothing more, and she didn't pry.
"Yes. Understood."
He was reasonably obedient, in his way.
...
"...Rumors circulate in the mundane world. Even without them, Intelligence surveilling you is a given."
Idnik relayed the notes in her booklet to Sylvia.
"No great worry. Adrienne and I passed through this long ago."
News of surveillance by Intelligence and Security. Deculein's involvement in the team.
"..."
Sylvia opened her eyes silently. Her surroundings: an island.
Vast, solid land. Brooks flowing through greenery.
The Nameless Isle, forged from Tri-Color mana.
"What will you do?"
Over three days and nights, she created it.
In mere days, a new island orbited the Floating Island.
"..."
Sylvia gazed coldly at Idnik. Idnik met her eyes.
"Thinking."
Her murmured face—body—was wracked with torment.
Yet she never crumbled.
She simply didn't know her own pain.
"...Got it."
A life not yet twenty, half drowned in sorrow.
Steeped in agony, pain her "normal."
"I'll invent a spell."
Pain as routine, unaware of hurt. Adapting swiftly to new darkness, accepting it as innate.
"A spell to surveil him."
Idnik's gaze drifted naturally to "Swiftstone."
"Deculein has a knight escort. A strong one. Swiftstone's well-crafted, but—"
"I know."
Then, artificial wind rose. Updrafts from Sylvia's ankles.
"I'll imbue magic in the wind."
"...Wind?"
"The wind will be my ears. Deculein can't evade it. He won't even know he's watched."
Clouds puffed in the sky.
A fuller moon than any, spilling moonlight over Sylvia.
"It'll detect the monster my subconscious created too."
...Then, Idnik admitted her underestimation.
In that girl's heart, "Deculein" wasn't mere kindling for a campfire.
Not simple flames.
He was becoming a vast wildfire, devouring heaven and earth...
Late night, assistant lab.
Beyond the glass, thick darkness. But the [Assistant Lab] blazed incandescent. Ifrin and Drent studied, even Allen reviewing intently.
"Grasping this theory lets me implant that 'trait' in my magic?"
Drent scratched his temple with his pen, muttering. Ifrin nodded.
"Yeah, seems so."
"...You already get it?"
Drent glanced at Ifrin's notes. She smiled faintly, shaking her head.
"No jealousy. Planning to steal mine again?"
"No, not jealousy..."
"Just ask straight, I'll tell you. Think I'd hold out? That petty?"
"...Uh, yeah. Can I borrow your notes later?"
Drent fidgeted his shoulder sheepishly.
"Buy coffee instead. Nah, I'll get it—fresh air too."
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Here. Keep the change."
A 100 elne bill slipped from Drent's wallet.
Ifrin took it, a wry smile escaping.
"Coffee's 100 elne a cup these days? Anyway, back soon."
"Yeah, see ya~"
"Take care, Ifrin~"
Ifrin exited the lab.
Elevator down, past the first-floor lobby, heading to the 24-hour cafe "Blind" outside the tower.
"?"
Through the glass, two familiar figures.
Empty cafe, jazz drifting.
Deculein and Adrienne sat face-to-face.
Ifrin instinctively gathered mana in her eyes.
Condensing wind elements in eyes and ears for hyper-acute senses: the rite Wind Cloud.
—...When will you announce that research, nearly four years now?! The hearing's soon!
Adrienne's spirited voice inside. Deculein sipped coffee.
—Soon.
—Invention of Pure Elements, four-series magic based thereon! Sounds grandiose.
Pure Elements invention.
Ifrin widened her eyes, perking her ears.
—Yes. Nearing completion.
—Good~ But is it really yours, Professor Deculein?! Not stolen?!
Ifrin bit her lip.
Was this the "it" her father mentioned in letters?
—Oh, right! My chairman term's ending soon! This winter or spring next year!
—Is that so.
—Another candidate's coming! You're top for my successor, of course!
Chairman term ending soon.
Meaning Adrienne's ascension to archmage neared.
—No intent! Just one candidate looks shabby for the continent's top tower!
—Who.
—You know him! Monarch Ihelm von Jerian Rewind! Imperial high mage, 'Dukan School' head—specs solid as rival! Old friend, he'll step aside! No worries!
That instant.
"What're you staring at."
"!"
Ifrin shuddered like electrocuted, whipping around.
"Oh. Watching Deculein, huh."
The man speaking: the topic, Ihelm.
"Ack, you scared me..."
"Startle much."
Bright blonde damp as if just styled, red eyes lazily gleaming.
Ihelm von Jerian Rewind.
Familiar to Ifrin from Wizard Journal et al.
"W-what. You know me?"
"Yeah."
Ihelm peered into Ifrin's mana-veiled eyes, grasping her spell.
"You're not just looking—you're eavesdropping. Like father, like daughter."
"What?"
Ifrin ground her teeth. He shook his head.
"Praise. Eyes sharp."
"...Praise is what sounds good."
"..."
Ihelm looked down at Ifrin. She held his gaze.
Sharp crimson eyes jutting.
Why were all these jerks so tall? Neck ache.
His drooping eyes asked.
"Luna's daughter. What'd your dad say. Or rather—are you under Deculein to kill him, or serve him?"
"...Since I'm holding back, don't mention my dad again."
"Fine? One word then. Deculein's announcing your dad's research."
Ihelm brushed past, his white robe fluttering.
"What the hell's that yellow cheesehead...!"
Ifrin stomped the sidewalk. Glanced back at the cafe glass.
"...Huh."
Deculein and the chairman watched her.
Deculein expressionless, chairman smirking mischievously.
*
Moonlight scattered mistily on streets. Uphill from cafe to tower.
"...Not curious? What I said to that guy."
Step-step—
Walking beside Deculein, Ifrin muttered pointlessly.
"..."
No reply from Deculein. Matching his long strides taxed her. Slack off, he'd be gone.
"Said your research is my dad's."
Ifrin caught up, speaking. Deculein neither responded nor stopped.
Peeved, Ifrin puffed her cheeks.
"Why say nothing?"
"Your father couldn't complete it alone. Lacked the talent."
"Wh-what?!"
His words ignited her fury.
Pat-pat-pat— She dashed, matching two of his steps with four.
"What about you? Can you complete it alone?"
"Presentation next month. See for yourself then."
Heat rose to her head. Back burned, breaths ragged.
But no.
Anger meant loss.
"Fine? Then I'll report you. Thief. Chairman dream's dead."
Ifrin sniped. Deculein walked on, eyes averted.
Ifrin dogged him stubbornly.
"Seriously reporting."
"Who'd believe you."
"Why not? That guy we just met. Ihelm whatever."
Ihelm. Knew Deculein's dirt, her father.
Not likable, but if Deculein kept dismissing, second-best it was.
"Don't wanna join him either. So—"
Halt—
Deculein stopped. Looked at Ifrin properly, after ages.
"Ifrin. Follow your heart."
"..."
That was it.
Deculein strode off. Stunned Ifrin stared at his back.
"Wait, Professor!"
Then why sponsor me—! As she yelled.
A voice drifted from somewhere.
"Why believe you. Met today."
Ifrin whipped her head. Right-side shrubs uphill: Ihelm and Adrienne together.
Ifrin pouted.
"Believe or not."
"Hmm~ But intriguing! Deculein and Ihelm—were close!"
Adrienne said. Ihelm shrugged.
"Humans always same? Consistent ones are monsters. ...Hey, you. Luna's girl. Name?"
He chin-nodded Ifrin. She answered stiffly.
"...Ifrin."
"Leafy?"
"Ifrin."
"Right. Pick a side clear, Leafy."
"Ifrin!"
Ihelm leaned on a tree, picking his ear.
"Ambiguous, nothing changes. Nothing done. Like me."
"What can't you do?"
"Know why I'm here? Chairman shot hopeless, I know. Token."
"...Then why come?"
"To fight."
Ifrin's eyes narrowed questioningly.
Ihelm scoffed sigh-like.
"Like old days. Hate getting pushed like a fool without fighting."
Self-mocking murmur.
"The more I sit, that bastard climbs. Thought he'd overreach and crash. Tire and break. No sign of fall..."
Ifrin clamped her mouth. Somewhat relatable.
"...Plan to fight 'til death."
Vowed to catch up, but Deculein's strides outpaced hers vastly.
Yesterday to today, today to tomorrow.
Each day, he pulled farther ahead.
"If grudge, resolve properly. Stand still, turn vegetable like me."
Ihelm smirked crookedly, departing.
Conversely, Adrienne approached, whispering in her ear.
—...Ihelm. Used to be friends with Deculein, lost faction war. Research stolen, achievements too. And he liked Knight Julie. Has fiancée now, but.
Ifrin furrowed slightly.
"Why pick him as candidate?"
Adrienne spread arms, beaming innocently.
"Fun!"
"...Soon-to-be archmage."
"That's why~"
Answering Adrienne looked somehow bitter.
"Archmage leaves continent."
"...Why?"
"Can't keep enemies! Can visit empire, tower sometimes, but lingering draws eyes!"
Whoooosh—
Summer night breeze swirled branches.
Rustle-rustle, leaves shivered coolly.
Ifrin gazed idly at the distant moon.
"...Better not become one? Archmage."
Suddenly, future's her on that great moon disk.
Memory fuzzy, but far more alluring, stronger mage.
That Ifrin seemed sad, somehow.
"Duty neglect."
Adrienne said. Ifrin looked back.
Petite chairman easier to face than Deculein.
"Ifrin too, bear responsibility matching talent. Hehe!"
Grinning Adrienne spun away.
Ifrin watched her skipping silhouette longer than needed.
Next day, head professor's office.
Ifrin was summoned early morning by Deculein.
"..."
A bit tense—no, very. Rushed straight from bed.
Gulp—
Ifrin eyed Deculein in the office chair shakily. Last night's antics fresh.
"Take it."
Thud—!
Heavy stack, ~100 pages, slammed on his desk.
Deculein said.
"The research mentioned. Yes, your father's idea. Part here."
"...Ah! B-but?"
"Master it by October hearing, embody fully, and I won't present. Return to you."
"...!"
Ifrin's eyes bulged. Deculein asked indifferently.
"Challenge?"
"Y-yes!"
Nothing more to ask. Father wanted daughter to continue.
Ifrin hurried over, stuffing the papers in her bag.
"Yep! Just what I wanted—!"
"Out."
She yelled, opening the door—to another waiting.
Ihelm from yesterday.
He raised a brow.
"Oh. Leafy first."
"Ifrin, I said!"
Shove— She pushed his shoulder, stomping off.
"What a..."
Ihelm watched bemused, then eyed the head professor's office.
Beyond, Deculein sat flawlessly aristocratic.
"...Professor Deculein. Fellow candidates—mock cross-exam practice?"