Advance. (1)

Magic Tower, 77th floor. The chief professor's office.

I sat at my desk, repeating calculations and research.

Dozens of cross-verifications. Hundreds of sample checks. Exhaustive poring over materials from the university's vast library.

I hadn't even considered the chance my predictions might be off. This was merely to derive regional variance values.

—Yes. Confirmed. Rohalak soil density reads just like that.

Yeriel's message came through the crystal orb.

Rohalak's collision value was lower than the North's. Even so, it was double the levels from nineteen years ago—but with Hadekain and Yukline's resources, defense was more than feasible.

"Spare no expense on preparations."

—We won't, but—

"Disconnecting."

—Hey, wait. You bas—

I cut her off and connected to the next person.

—Professor Deculein, it's Betan. I'll send the soil density via transmission paper.

"Do so."

—Yes. No matter what anyone says, I trust you, Professor. Just remember that.

Among the empire's nobles, there were those like Betan who cooperated—and those who didn't.

The North, especially, was mostly opposed. Astronomical costs were the obvious reason.

"...Professor."

Then Allen spoke up. From the corner of the chief professor's office, the boy-turned-panda via dark circle fiddled with a stack of documents as he said,

"Interviews here. Academy lectures. Speaking requests... all tied to this monster wave prediction...."

Radical moves inevitably draw fierce backlash.

If this weren't the 'main quest' flow, even I'd have doubted the results once or twice.

"You'll be exhausted."

"Yeeah... With this schedule, it'll be at least two months circling the continent...."

I gazed out the Magic Tower's glass walls.

An endless winter landscape rising skyward. The high heavens clung pale and desiccated.

"Do it gladly."

This marked a major branching point in the main quest. But knowing my death in advance actually helped in such situations.

No matter what happened, I wouldn't die this winter—at least.

"Yeeah... I... trust your theory too, Professor...."

"Haven't slept, have you, Allen."

"Huh? Oh, yeeah. Lots of inquiries. About three days now...."

"Go home and rest."

"Yeeah...."

Allen nodded with dazed eyes. I examined the official documents he'd brought.

Dozens of letters from great houses, laced with doubt and regret.

* * *

"Haa...."

These days, every moment was a struggle for Ifrin. In the library, the lab, the dorms—she scribbled her worries in her notebook wherever she went.

Ifrin remembered no events from the future. She didn't know them at all.

She'd checked libraries, newspapers, everywhere. But there was a 'missing period' in that future.

For some reason—maybe the North—there wasn't a single record between two and three years from now.

"What could have happened...."

The one thing Ifrin did know?

A currently obscure merchant company called Rohon Merchant Company would hit it big later.

She'd overheard it chatting with merchants. Even if she knew 'stock' only as in livestock, she memorized the name thinking investment meant sure riches.

"And this one."

Digging through merchant stocks turned up Rohun, Rohom, Rohol—three more.

Her second worry.

"Split it four ways...."

Ifrin stealthily checked her pay ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pouch.

4,000 elne. 1,000 each wouldn't be bad.

Her sponsorship fund had piled up to hundreds of thousands of elne already, but she couldn't touch it for this.

Pride aside, now that she knew the sponsor was Deculein, she'd wait until fully acknowledged by him. Until she perfectly understood a Deculein-Luna paper, at least.

Only then would she spend freely.

Then.

"Hey."

A raspy voice called her. Ifrin turned—and startled.

Old grudge. Lucy.

"What now? Here to pick a fight?"

Ifrin's eyes narrowed instinctively. Lucy smirked and shook her head.

"Nah? Just came to congratulate you~?"

"On what."

"Your team's heading to Recorak, right."

Recorak? Ifrin scowled. What nonsense was this?

"The hell? We already did the North."

"I know."

"Know what. We went already."

"...What. You seriously don't know?"

"Know what."

Ifrin shot back, and Lucy made that infuriating face as she handed over a paper.

Ifrin's glare shifted to the page.

"What the... what is thisss!"

Her eyes bulged.

Ifrin shot to her feet and bolted outside.

Magic Tower first floor, lobby. Julie and the rest of the Ping Exploration Team were there, faces full of worry.

Julie spoke.

"Ifrin! Heard the news! You're going to Recorak?!"

"Whaaat—?! I didn't know!"

Ifrin was floored.

* * *

Knock knock—knock knock knock—

Relentless knocking. I knew who without looking.

Telekinesis opened the door, and the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠knocker rushed in.

"Professor Professor Professor! Recorak—what's this about all of a sudden—"

"We're going to Recorak over break. Probably stay three months."

"Gasp!"

Ifrin's mouth gaped. Her shocked eyes swelled like soccer balls.

She gulped, then forced out,

"P-Professor. Reconsider. Not for me, but...."

She chewed her lip, paused.

Gulped again, averted her eyes, scratched her temple... all her habits, before blurting,

"...Something might happen. Even to you, Professor."

"It's fine."

I said.

"You don't have to come. It's my unilateral decision, not yours."

"...."

Ifrin stared silently. Her pouty eyes and jutting lip were oddly cute.

"...Didn't say I wouldn't go. I will... but...."

I nodded.

"Then prepare."

"Prepare what."

"Real combat training starts today."

"...Huh?"

* * *

...Thus, as the seasons turned, I had much to do.

Advanced lectures, paper Q&A, accountability for my 'prediction.'

No day without wind.

Airships, trains—I crisscrossed the continent.

Many couldn't grasp my theory; sometimes they looked like chimps.

Deculein's chosen-people complex. I tried suppressing it, but it was hard.

I also began Ifrin's combat training. She got battered across the Magic Tower grounds, but her progress was praiseworthy.

"Next week... we leave, Professor...?"

Right after training. Sweat-soaked Ifrin approached. I stared her down.

"...Ah."

Ifrin cast Cleanse on herself, and I finally replied.

"Likely."

"...Yes. I'll prepare diligently."

Ifrin left the training room. Her grumbling echoed down the hall into my ears.

—Break and no rest... Ugh, body aches. Gotta buy stocks too.

Stocks reminded me. I'd invested per the 'Tycoon Magnate's' visible info before.

Time to check returns.

"...Not much left."

Then, a thought bloomed in my heart's corner.

I could finally see Julie.

My feeling, or Deculein's influence? Distance from her had gnawed an unknown emptiness in me.

"Foolish."

Even if we couldn't be together, just seeing her made this heart race.

...What a dull emotion.

* * *

North, Recorak.

Julie sat quietly in her office chair, meditating. The man due soon.

She'd acted unaffected, but how could she be?

She'd desperately suppressed all feelings. And thought of the North's simple folk.

For them, allying with an enemy was feasible. As a knight of honor, she'd separate public from private rigorously....

Knock knock—

A knock. Julie startled but cleared her throat.

"Enter."

The door opened. Through the half-gap, she peered at the figure.

Blond hair, pale face. That greasy smile.

"Long time no see, Julie?"

Ihelm. Once part of Deculein's crew, her university senior.

A minor hurdle before Deculein arrived.

Julie ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠replied steadily.

"Yes. Long time. Sit."

"Yeah. Whew, this director gig's a curse—coming even to Recorak... Shouldn't have volunteered."

Ihelm slumped into a chair, groaning.

"Those guys exercising outside—all prisoners?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Bodies like killers, huh? Skills too."

"Yes. But magic artifacts link to their hearts—any trouble, we handle it instantly. No need to worry."

"I know. Dikailen invented 'em."

Julie nodded calmly. Ihelm chuckled.

"Anyway, Deculein's coming late."

"...Yes."

"Well, that director kid probably didn't want him here. Brat's spiteful—sent him gleefully after the breakup talk."

Ihelm mimicked Adrienne, eyeing Julie's face. His 'joke.' Julie replied impassively.

"Understood. It's fine."

"Face says otherwise."

"...."

"Loosen up."

"This is my face."

Perfect blank. Save one slightly furrowed brow.

Ihelm snickered.

"Hilarious."

"...Not laughing. Please leave. We'll assign quarters."

"Sure. But no misunderstanding. Not teasing you. Just... weird, right? You think so too?"

"Haa... What now."

Julie sighed wearily. Ihelm stood slowly, shaking his head.

"No one loved you like Deculein. Crazy way, sure. Why suddenly dump you...."

Grind—teeth clenched sharply.

"Whoa whoa."

Ihelm raised his arms in panic, and Julie said in a low, heavy voice,

"Ihelm. Leave."

"Sorry sorry. Going. Oh, take this first."

Ihelm proffered a document.

"...What's this."

"Reinforcements roster."

Julie scanned it. The names were so startling she leaned in despite herself.

"Weird, huh? New barracks soon. Mansion-sized."

Gwen. Rafel. Syrio—knights close to Julie. Plus peak swordsmen like Mountain 'Jeilun' and Flame Sword 'Yuple'.

"Deculein's coming. To this backwater—knights from the palace and elsewhere clamoring to join. Networking with him."

"Networking...."

"Yeah. Oh, you didn't know? Deculein made 500 million elne in stocks this time. 500 ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠million."

"500 million elne...."

Julie's mouth parted slightly. Ihelm smirked slyly.

"Jealous? You're down here, ex-fiancé flying high."

Julie's face hardened again.

"Ihelm. Won't warn a fourth time."

"Oho~ Sweet as ever. Most get three strikes—you give four. No wonder your nickname's White Retriever."

"Ihelm. 3.5."

Final warning. Ihelm grinned and rose.

"Fine fine. Going. See you later? Stuck in the same space awhile."

Julie glared at Ihelm's waving back long after.

"Lots making money in stocks lately... Need funds to hold the border."

Soon, her focus shifted back to the roster and stocks.

* * *

Before heading North, I stopped at the Imperial Palace.

For the third match of the promised five Go games with Sophien.

"Off to the North again."

Sophien wore a dress today, for some reason.

Ornate and antique—like modern Elizabeth, fit for an emperor.

"Yes. Your attire is beautiful as ever, Your Majesty."

"Ilayde sent it. Gilteon procured it himself."

"I see."

Gilteon of Ilayde.

An irritating name, but no need to show it.

Sophien asked languidly,

"Anyway, third match today... Confident? Lose this, no need for the rest."

"I've never lacked confidence."

"Hmph."

Sophien twisted her lips. Then stood. I looked up curiously.

"Follow."

"Yes."

I rose without question. Sophien walked the hall from the study, saying,

"You brim with confidence, and no one on this continent plays Go like us. So today."

Her steps halted before the throne room doors. I guessed her intent.

She turned.

"We'll play before all ministers. Fine by you?"

I nodded without hesitation.

"Yes. Fine—but may I ask Your Majesty the same? Will you be alright?"

"With what."

"I'm no liar in victory to preserve Your Majesty's face before the court."

"You mad bastard."

Sophien cursed reflexively. A vein pulsed at her temple.

"...Warning. Climb no higher. Don't 'save my face.' Do your best. I'll crush you with mine. You're the only one on this continent to claim that effort."

"Yes. I'll do my best."

Sophien nodded and opened the doors. A roar of ministers erupted.

Your Imperial Majesty—!

They prostrated. The Go board and stones awaited in the vast hall.

"This professor I invited to show you Go. The one predicting the monster crisis—quite the stir. Deculein!"

Sophien turned mid-stride, calling. I approached, bowing obliquely.

"Your servant Deculein, arrived by Your Majesty's command."

"Enough. No prattle—sit."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Under countless gazes, I took the seat opposite.

Sophien smirked at me.

"Before this fool heads to northern Recorak. We begin the third match. Ministers, record the game and learn fervently. We'll teach you what Go truly is...."

All ministers cried out at once.

We are eternally grateful, Your Majesty—!

A deafening clamor.