Magic Tower Undergraduate. (2)
“……”
I stared at Ihelm. His appearance had changed quite a bit since we met at Verhert. He had grown gaunt, his complexion sallow.
“On a diet?”
“They say even an in-law’s belly aches when he buys land—seeing you thrive just makes me sick. The world’s gone rotten. Feels like I’m swallowing moths with every breath.”
Ihelm flashed a rotten smile and sneered. With my Naked Eye, I could see the mana rippling around him.
“For someone in that state, you’ve grown considerably.”
“……Don’t act like you know. What could you possibly know?”
The Ihelm I knew from the game wasn’t some standout named character.
Of course, his pure magical talent surpassed Deculein’s, but compared to the truly mighty named ones, he fell far short.
Yet the purity of his mana now was beyond my expectations.
“Hmph. It’s a wonder, alright. I lived off whiskey, brandy, vodka, tequila—every damn liquor imported from the Isles—and yet my magical insight has never been sharper.”
Ihelm tilted his head sideways, glaring at me with those red eyes.
“Is this your doing too? Deculein, Chief Professor?”
“Likely. It seems I possess the talent to awaken others’ magical gifts.”
“……Hah.”
Ihelm let out a hollow laugh. But soon his face twisted into a savage snarl.
“Deculein. I still can’t fathom the serpentine depths of your heart. What the hell do you plan with Luna’s daughter?”
“……”
“Not kicking her out of the tower—instead taking her as your assistant? You even had the chance to expel her?”
I leaned back in my chair without a word. Ihelm, meanwhile, leaned forward, thrusting his torso toward me.
“I’ve thought about it plenty. If you took after Dikailen, I could guess why you took her in. But you don’t resemble him at all.”
──Then.
As if my consciousness rang an alarm.
A certain timbre surged into my mind.
It was Idnik’s voice.
……I thought you’d kill that child. Since Dikailen was the one who first found her.
Ha—! Ihelm’s mocking laugh.
“What, feeling pity after all?”
I let it slide in one ear and continued my reverie.
I recalled the personality of Dikailen I’d encountered in the diary.
I rewound the words he’d muttered.
……I am Master Dikailen’s Learning Intellect. He entrusted me with the top priority: [Aptitude Assessment for Family Succession].
The former Yukline head, Dikailen, had been dissatisfied with both Yeriel and Deculein.
……The result: ‘Both disqualified.’
Then.
Was Dikailen perhaps searching for a new successor?
Not Deculein, not Yeriel—someone else to gloriously carry on the Yukline name.
Was that candidate Ifrin?
“Felt sorry for Luna’s brat, pretending to be loved by her old man? Staring at that pathetic thing until pity welled up out of nowhere, making you wanna play daddy? Or did that fresh young body tempt you?”
I looked at Ihelm. For a moment, I considered smashing that smug face.
“……Hmph. Fine. Whatever. The interim chairman announcement’s coming this week, probably.”
Ihelm twisted his lips in a threat.
“You and me, our past. That Luna girl, and the deal between Luna and Yukline. I’ll drag it all out in a public hearing cross-examination.”
What deal? What past? Ihelm spewed things I didn’t know and laughed.
“Let’s die together.”
He moved to stand. I manifested Telekinesis. His hand clamped onto the iron handle with a crunch.
“Let go.”
Ihelm wriggled his hand futilely—my Telekinesis wouldn’t be broken by the likes of him.
Crash—thud—
He rattled an innocent chair before slumping back down.
“Ihelm. Keep that up, and you’ll die before the hearing.”
“Pfft. Yeah?”
He snickered mockingly.
“In case you didn’t know, I’ve been dead since the day you took everything from me.”
“Then die again.”
“Kill me.”
Ihelm lifted his legs first. He looked ridiculous trying to leave with the chair stuck to him, so I released the Telekinesis.
He flung the chair aside, rubbed his wrist, and departed.
Bang—!
The door slammed shut.
The silent office.
“……”
Left alone, I sorted the fragments swirling in my mind.
Ifrin. Luna. Yukline. Dikailen. Ihelm.
A tangled web of pasts.
As I pondered their connections, I glanced at the window. My reflection in the dark glass looked awkward.
A touch of anger in my face.
“The reason I took in Ifrin.”
I posed Ihelm’s question back to myself.
The answer was clear, no second thoughts.
……Be it now or far in the future.
Because she is my disciple.
Thud—!
Back in the assistant lab, Ifrin plopped a stack of documents on the desk.
Just a hundred pages? Piece of cake!
She hyped herself up inwardly, rolled up her sleeves.
Ding—!
An alarm blared from the Wizaboard. Startled, Ifrin checked the screen first.
“Ah!”
Reason: Time Limit Exceeded
10-15 years ago—the era when Deculein and her father roamed the tower together.
She’d even offered a bounty, but…
Ifrin had been digging into Deculein and her father’s past in her own way.
“100 elne too low?”
Well, decent lecture notes went for 500 elne or more.
With trembling hands, Ifrin upped the price and reposted.
Looking for anyone who knows Tower history from 10-15 years ago. Or knows someone who does. 600 elne for info.
“600 elne should do it.”
Then, time to study for real!
“Alright…… where to start.”
First page. Intro: The value of inventing new Pure Elements, outline of establishing four-series magic based on it……
Skim and flip.
“Huh?”
Content doesn’t connect. First and second pages are mismatched.
Second page suddenly packed with incantations. Like pages missing in between.
“Did the professor mess up?”
Ifrin casually dragged her finger across the first sheet.
Whoosh—the page flipped.
“……Ah.”
Then it hit her.
These weren’t ordinary sheets.
‘Ultra-Advanced Magic Paper.’
Each sheet held…… 300 pages.
So 100 sheets of 300-page magic paper……
“……30,000 pages.”
Time left: barely a month.
Study material: 30,000 pages.
“Ah……”
Ifrin’s nape throbbed.
Like a hammer to the forehead. The world spun away dizzily.
Meanwhile, in the Intelligence Agency basement.
“……Hm.”
Hundreds of millions of papers and files, preserved and sealed monstrosities, illicit grimoires from the Ashes Heap……
The [Intelligence Agency Records and Evidence Vault], wallpapered purple and dubbed the ‘Purple Room.’ There, Premien sifted through Cielia-related intel.
“Fuck.”
Investigating one person’s life was a monumental pain.
You couldn’t get their ‘exact life trajectory’ from them directly.
“Goddamn, not this either.”
A human’s life emerges from those around them.
Why are humans human?
Because they live among humans, between humans.
If there were only one human in the world, they wouldn’t be human.
“This shit.”
Thus, Premien scoured every associate of Cielia.
Reconstructing one person’s timeline like this—it was grunt work from her rookie days, the kind only rookies did……
“All because of that fucking professor.”
Premien muttered dryly and spotted a ‘burnt letter’ in the evidence list.
“What’s this letter?”
A casual mutter, like to someone else.
An agent in agency garb answered.
“Oh, that? Official name’s ‘Letter of Fortune.’”
Premien skimmed it.
Whoever reads this letter will be cursed within three days. The only cure: pass its exact contents to three or more people. Spread it to five or more, and your next day will brim with fortune……
“What bullshit.”
“Everyone who got it really died cursed. Killed hundreds.”
“Ah.”
Fling! Premien tossed the letter away, brushed her hands like it was contaminated.
“Magic world hushed it up. Over ten years old—makes sense the vice director wouldn’t know.”
“……Magic’s a wonder. Fucking annoying.”
“Not magic. A demon.”
“Demon? This?”
“Yup~ Demons are ‘Existent,’ ‘Phenomenal,’ ‘Conceptual.’ This was ‘Phenomenal.’”
Premien nodded at the agent’s words.
“Hm. That fuck—not, well taught under the professor, huh.”
“Yup. Picked it up naturally. All the books in his study are like that.”
Premien eyed the agent rummaging the Purple Room with her.
“Hospital records for Cielia and Sylvia here too? They visited a lot as kids.”
The Purple Room: no eavesdropping or surveillance. Ceiling crystal orb recorded video only, no audio.
Perfect for secret meets.
“Letter that claimed 358 lives ten-odd years ago…… the arsonist was Yukline head Dikailen.”
Premien checked the Letter of Fortune records.
“Killed a ton.”
“Yup.”
“If Cielia’s linked, gotta comb all 358.”
“Probably.”
“Fuck, and I’m no rookie.”
The agent swallowed a secret laugh at her deadpan cursing.
“Stocks tanking too, back to rookie shit. Regret recruiting that damn professor. Maybe pray this fucking world ends tomorrow.”
“Nah, but~ Sylvia’s friend—Deculein can soothe her.”
Premien stared wordlessly at the agent-disguised figure. Cold, sunken eyes.
“……You really like the guy massacring your kin.”
“Not massacre yet. And I’m there to prevent it, if it comes.”
Allen—no, Eli’s reply.
Tsk—Premien clicked her tongue, a recent memory surfacing.
“Eli.”
“Yup?”
Once, at Hadekan’s restaurant, Betan recommended ‘Rotaili’ soup.
Deculein spoke to her for refusing over ‘not liking mushrooms.’
—Premien. Do you know?
─What?
—We met at Verhort once. Ate together at its restaurant.
“We…… met at Verhort before.”
Eli nodded.
“Yup. Vice director vacationed there. Ate with Professor Deculein at the restaurant.”
Eli’s memory was trustworthy. She forgot no spatial events—like space itself.
“What was the menu?”
Premien asked casually, cool and composed as ever.
Eli answered.
“Truffle steak.”
—The menu was mushroom steak.
For a split second, Eli’s and Deculein’s voices overlapped in her mind.
Premien’s hand froze mid-sift.
“……Was it.”
Deculein’s parting words from that day echoed late.
—Haha. Joke. No way you’d remember what we ate ages ago.
“……”
Premien boxed up all Cielia records.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Stuffing anything useful, she said.
“Eli. Can’t stick by that professor forever. Linger too long, ‘Altar’ will sniff you out.”
“Yup. Think I don’t know? Double agent here.”
“Then leave already.”
“Yup! Bye~ Lilia Premien!”
Allen grinned, pulled his hat low. Marched out the Purple Room’s front door boldly.
“……No need to grow attached beyond necessity.”
Premien muttered softly, set the boxes down, slumped in a chair.
“Goddamn stocks……”
Temples throbbed like drilling. Cursed falling stocks, his voice lingering in her ears.
—Didn’t know you hated mushrooms.
“……”
─……The menu was mushroom steak.
“……”
─Haha. Joke. No way you’d remember what we ate ages ago.
Expressionless, she toed the floor box open and muttered.
“Fucking mushrooms.”
Today, as her tutoring mage, I sought Sophien. But not the usual ‘Hall of Learning’—the imperial garden.
“Deculein. Here.”
Northeast garden. An eternal winter landscape.
Bare trees dense as thorns, endless permafrost whitening the ground—a snowy plain.
Beyond it, by a lone log cabin, stood Sophien.
“Here, here.”
The emperor in fur coat and hat waved gracefully.
Today’s Sophien looked much improved.
I approached.
Crunch—crunch—
Treading snow, I pondered the gap between Turn 2 and Turn 7. The promise I couldn’t keep with her.
“Come.”
“Greetings, Your Majesty. You seem well today.”
“Indeed.”
Sophien smirked.
“Yet today, with one you know.”
She snapped her fingers.
Out from the cabin stepped Julie.
She’d escorted me to the palace today, yet somehow arrived here first.
“Lately, We grow sleepy oft, slothful, no time for lessons—so We decided on simultaneous sword and magic tutoring.”
“Apologies for not informing you sooner. I was grabbed on the way back too.”
“……”
As tutoring knight, not escort, Julie’s face was stiff. Absurd, but I nodded.
Julie spoke first.
“Your Majesty. Sword first?”
“Nay. Sit first.”
Sophien led to a tea table by the cabin. Wooden chairs and table. She set down teacups.
“Lately, Our ennui and sloth exceed bounds…… We think the cause lies not within, but without.”
She glanced at Kairon by the cabin.
“That knight Kairon says naught…… Professor Deculein. You seem to know?”
Sophien placed a hand mirror from her bosom on the table.
I said nothing. Denying knowledge would be a lie.
“Deculein, speak. What do you know?”
Sophien furrowed her brow harshly. I met her thorny gaze; Julie eyed us warily—then.
“……!”
Suddenly, Julie’s eyes widened. Her body jolted.
Clink—!
The teacup spilled onto the ground.
“……Professor? Your Majesty?”
Afterward, Julie blankly alternated between Sophien and me.
Sudden outburst, but I sensed why.
“Julie.”
“……Yes?”
“What did you see.”
Julie blinked around, confused. Her hair frizzed wildly—crackle—static sparked.
“Uh…… felt like a dream…… Good it was just a dream—”
Julie’s eyes toward me filled with worry. I cut her off firmly.
“No. Julie. No dreaming here. You never slept, not a moment.”
Sophien watched us with intrigued eyes. Thirsty perhaps, she picked up the fallen cup and sipped.
“Speak, Julie. What you saw, did, returned from—or dreamed.”
“The…… Professor……”
At my grave tone, Julie swallowed. Gripping her thigh greave, she said.
“A dream of dying.”
Sophien’s smile deepened. Julie pressed her chest, checking her pulse—like discerning dream from reality.
“Truly glad……”
Her relieved sigh warmed me.
But I shook my head.
“No. Not glad. It wasn’t a dream.”
“Yes?”
Now, Julie had regressed.
From some future—precisely, one where I died—she’d slain ‘Nesius.’
“If you don’t explain, I’ll die that way again.”