The Emperor (1)
The Mage’s Floating Island was an eternally suspended isle at 1,500 meters above sea level, a community built solely on magic and magitech.
Exaggeration aside, there was a saying: “All the world’s magic flows from the Floating Island.” It was pioneering and research-driven to that extent, but also an independent district where the mages’ characteristic individualism reached its extreme.
This Floating Island allowed entry only to mages, with rare exceptions—and even then, if one’s rank was below Monarch, an entry ticket costing 1,000 elne was mandatory.
Over half the floating population that entered congregated around the ‘Mejiseion’ at the island’s central core.
To put it simply, the Mejiseion was an ark storing vast magic and knowledge—enough to rebuild the continent in a century even if it perished.
The island’s creators had a somewhat fanatical streak, intent on collecting and recording all the world’s magic. The Mejiseion was the institution where that trait manifested most positively.
One of the greatest honors any mage could aspire to was to have a spell named after them engraved in the ‘Cell,’ the Mejiseion’s uppermost layer…
Right now, in the ground-level [VIP Academic Auction Hall] of that very Mejiseion, an auction was in full swing.
“With 1,205 bids at 35,000 elne, we restart bidding at 36,000 elne.”
As befitting the Floating Island’s auction, the item wasn’t some treasure but documents—specifically, questions 1 through 8 from the Imperial University Tower’s midterm on “Understanding Pure Elements.”
“…We restart bidding at 37,000 elne.”
A whopping 10,000 mages were participating in this document auction, remote bids included.
Yet mages’ auctions were utterly silent. No chatter, shouting, or politics—just the faint whisper of pens scratching paper.
“Yes. Exactly 1,000 at 40,000 elne. The final result is 40,000 elne.”
Deculein’s Pure Elements exam questions had captivated the Floating Island mages—not just for their perfection and difficulty, but for the artistic ‘reward’ granted upon solving all eight.
It was a test that wouldn’t have sold anywhere but the Floating Island.
“The 1,000 winners, please provide blood samples for distribution of the exam papers.”
Through blood-binding, the papers could be viewed only by the purchaser. A basic yet ironclad security measure, fundamental to magical rights.
In the mage community—small in numbers, even in dens of illegal mages like the Ashes Heap—these rights were strictly upheld.
Protection periods ranged from a minimum of one month to a maximum of 15 years, depending on the magic’s grade. Naturally, higher-grade spells and records got longer safeguards.
In that regard, Deculein’s exam had earned an impressively high rating for midterm material: a full three years.
“The auction is now closed.”
It ended quietly.
Kreto, second in the imperial succession line and the only one who stayed till the end, rose satisfied and glanced at the list of winners.
“Oh ho. Even some ‘Addicts’ made the cut? Is it that famous?”
Kreto asked his knight, Pasbender, at his side. Not a mage himself, Pasbender had entered as the imperial guard.
“So it seems these days. Chairman Adrienne commented on it too…”
The Ether Rank chairwoman had declared it plainly:
Deculein had revived his reputation as a ‘genius in formula interpretation’ with that final question 8. Just that alone proved the exam itself was a work of art.
“And one Addict, Rohas, who solved it early for valuation, gave it rave reviews.”
Addicts were those dwelling on the Mejiseion’s 10th floor and above—literally addicted to magic and numbers.
They appraised magic and records, tracked global mages’ achievements, and oversaw the all-important promotion exams.
“Is that so? Then it must be quite the fun one.”
Grinning ear to ear, Kreto headed to the winner’s room. He submitted to the blood draw without the royals’ typical reluctance.
“But… can I solve it?”
“Of course, Your Highness. Your magical talent far surpasses his.”
“Still, it’s a midterm. I never studied Pure Elements under Deculein.”
“It will be fine.”
“Only one perfect score out of 150… Well, doesn’t matter if I solve it or not.”
Anything was fine. New problems were always right.
Even if brutally hard, the joy of tackling them was enough—and if they sparked magical insight, better yet.
“I’m off to solve it. Pasbender, prepare an answer sheet.”
“Right now, Your Highness?”
Pasbender hesitated at Kreto’s words. Kreto chuckled and nodded.
“I know the situation. Doesn’t matter. It’s tradition. We met last month anyway—just send a letter. We have to.”
Just then, the exam paper was ready. Kreto took the thick stack and inhaled its scent.
“…This smell never gets old.”
That was when it happened.
A tall man appeared from down the hall, heading straight for Kreto. Instinctively, Pasbender blocked his path.
Deculein von Grahan Yukline. Yet his suit-clad physique was more honed than most knights.
He regarded Kreto and spoke.
“Though imperfect, it is a great honor that Your Highness has purchased it personally. You should find it no great challenge—and I hope this experience aids you in some way in the future.”
His sudden courtesy was flawless: humbly self-effacing yet revering the royal bloodline, brimming with refined dignity.
Thus did Deculein’s personality backfire against universally acknowledged nobility like the prince.
Kreto, momentarily flustered, shook his head.
“N-No status on the Floating Island.”
“Not for royals.”
Deculein replied with a low chuckle. Kreto glanced at Pasbender.
“Is that right?”
“Yes. It was agreed eight years ago.”
“Ah, then.”
Ahem. Kreto cleared his throat.
“I’ll give it a good shot.”
“Yes. My thanks.”
Deculein bowed his head and departed. Kreto stared blankly at his retreating figure, murmuring:
“Seems a decent professor, better than the rumors?”
“…Don’t trust appearances alone, Your Highness.”
Knight Pasbender knew the past between Julie and Deculein, so he held his tongue.
* * *
Back at the tower after the auction, I sat in my private office confirming the deposit.
A whopping 40 million elne—far beyond expectations.
Yeriel’s advice had paid off: limiting quantity built naming premium, rather than flooding the market for more volume.
Mage auctions had no taxes or fees, true to a “great tycoon’s” word…
But it was too soon to celebrate.
I picked up the newspaper from my desk corner.
Today’s urgent bulletin from The Journal, the empire’s largest media outlet.
A single page, a single line.
The true branching point had arrived.
In three days, the palace gates would open. I’d likely visit once, then nine days later came the succession ceremony.
After that, upheavals galore.
Named characters I must save from the story’s trunk, locations to preempt, laws revised, major and minor incidents exploding.
Locations and laws I could leave to Yeriel—she’d handle it. But the top priority named to save…
Mahor.
Princess with her own main-quest-level independent storyline.
Currently in the capital on ‘study abroad’ pretext, her death event triggered the moment the new emperor ascended. I knew from my knight playtest days—we’d been acquainted(?).
I wanted her to live.
Petty affection from keyboard camaraderie, plus designing and modeling her myself, sure—but above all, she’d become a great ally later, a force for good.
I was curious too.
Whether her knight comrades from those game escorts, like ‘Charlotte,’ and the princess herself would be the same in reality.
—Knock knock
I opened the door with telekinesis. As expected, Allen.
“Professor! A lecture invitation came in!”
Allen’s face was flushed with excitement. For a mere lecture? It was from the Floating Island.
“Floating Island lecture?”
“Y-Yes! In about a week, they want you to speak on the exam questions!”
Fee: 1 million elne—10 billion won equivalent.
Peanuts next to 40 million, but judging by Allen’s red face, a Floating Island invite was immense prestige for any mage.
It counted as achievement too.
Lecture on the Floating Island
◆ Mana +30
Deculein’s personality made my heart race, and now the system egged me on.
These ‘event quests’ occasionally rewarded stats. Location-dependent, usually.
Floating Island: mana. Knight orders: stamina/mana split. Adventure teams: stamina, etc.
“Tell them I’ll consider positively.”
Just 30, but better than nothing.
“Yes!”
Allen replied vigorously.
* * *
…Much happened after the emperor’s passing.
Executions halted, a short alcohol ban enacted, all schools shuttered.
Festivals and parties postponed, of course; even underworlds like gambling dens and thieves’ guilds lay low.
The empire fell eerily silent, a dead mouse hush.
In the palace annex, especially poignant amid it all, Mahor’s guard knight ‘Charlotte’ brooded.
“Charlotte, why the long face~?”
The princess spoke.
A girl with beautiful jade hair. She’d seemed to enjoy tea time on the balcony, but now smiled at Charlotte.
“…Princess.”
“No need to worry so. I know the situation~ If big brother loses, his retainers will use me. Same if second brother loses.”
Mahor’s lineage was unique.
Second in duchy succession, third in Leocr Kingdom’s royal line.
When she first came to study in the empire, she’d been fifth; infighting had naturally elevated her.
“Better we bow out, let them duke it out to the death. I get it~”
Unlike the empire’s smooth succession, the Retran Kingdom bred iron-blooded strife.
That’s why Mahor volunteered as near-hostage for ‘study abroad.’ The empire was safest for her.
But with the emperor dead, foreign royals couldn’t stay. Even Sophien disdained this nominal hostage system.
Thus, Mahor must attend the succession then return home immediately.
“Reply arrived from the duchy.”
Charlotte answered.
Home was death for Mahor. Straight to execution in Leocr, so Charlotte planned to entrust her to the duchy.
“Really? For real-real? What’d Grandpa say?”
“Of course it’s possible—”
“He approved?!”
“Naturally.”
But ambushes en route were inevitable.
They couldn’t march armies into imperial soil, but that meant far deadlier assassins lurked in the border no-man’s-lands.
“Then it’s just a trip~ Sounds fun~”
Mahor beamed. Charlotte gave a wry smile at her joy.
“I’m scouting escorts max. Knights, adventurers—even tower mages.”
“We’re broke though~?”
“It’s fine.”
Just three guards for Mahor, but they’d saved a nest egg for this day.
“Hmm…”
Mahor blinked her big eyes thoughtfully, rummaging a drawer.
“I’ve got some money too~ Allowance savings, jewels, lots—”
“No. It’s fine.”
“Why~? For a proper trip, we need funds, right~?”
“…”
Irrefutably right.
“Here, Charlotte~”
Speechless, Charlotte received Mahor’s entire savings. Clutching the pouch, she stepped out.
“Sniff… ugh…”
Tears came instantly. Walking the hall, Charlotte glanced out the window. Summer’s vibrance blanketed the world.
“Summer in full bloom already, yet the kingdom’s still winter…”
Charlotte left the annex, heading palace-side paths.
“Which adventure team, though.”
Mahor and her combined fortune neared 10 million elne—enough to commission an adventure team escort.
She’d mentioned knights and tower for the princess’s peace, but knights avoided politics.
The tower… exhausting to even say.
Thus pondering, she spotted a familiar face from imperial university days, afar.
Yukline head, Deculein.
Here to pay respects to the emperor, dead four days.
Of course, house heads couldn’t approach the coffin.
Only top successor Sophien and her empress could stay beside—but visiting itself was protocol and pretext. Rejected at the gates, they professed ‘loyalty.’
“…Long time.”
Charlotte meant to pass, but Deculein hailed her first. She eyed him uncomfortably.
Deculein murmured, seeming oddly pleased.
“Just like back then.”
“…Back then? University days?”
“Ah, yes. We had that connection.”
Deculein nodded. Charlotte smirked crookedly.
“You’re the same too. Heard you’re in hot water for tough exams lately?”
“Half right. Not scandal—praise.”
“What?”
“Earned 40 million elne.”
“…”
Charlotte’s eyes bulged. Deculein spoke calmly.
“Heading back to Leocr with the princess?”
“…”
“Or the Yuren Duchy.”
Charlotte’s brow hardened.
Mocking the princess’s plight?
She gritted her teeth.
“No harsh words on a sad day, between old acquaintances.”
“Take it.”
Deculein drew a small orb from his pocket—a communication crystal. Charlotte refused.
“…What.”
“A lifeline to a comrade choosing death.”
“What?”
Charlotte suspected naturally. Deculein gazed down indifferently.
“Charlotte. How close were we?”
“Not close enough for first names.”
“I bear Leocr no goodwill.”
That was all Deculein said. No “I know the future” or “saw you on my monitor”—it wouldn’t land.
Game lore painted Leocr poorly, borderline irredeemable.
“So, a lifeline to screw them—and you.”
“Get lost.”
Deculein’s brow twitched. He casually dropped the crystal.
“…Still time to play nice? Or abandon your lord to judge men?”
The orb bounced and rolled on the ground.
“Do as you will.”
Deculein brushed past Charlotte.
The princess’s knight ignored his back. She walked tall, prouder than any—then halted abruptly.
Gazing somewhere.
…The crystal rolling in the dirt.
* * *
Thus my brush with Charlotte.
Whether she used the crystal or not, I’d save her somehow—but that was post-succession.
For now…
“Hoo— hoo— hoo—”
In the Floating Island lecture waiting room, Allen beside me hyperventilated tensely.
Ridiculous. I was lecturing, not him.
“Why are you nervous?”
“Y-Yes? Ah… sorry, I…”
Knock knock—
The door opened. A robed mage addressed me.
“Professor Deculein, prepare for your lecture.”
“Very well.”
I straightened my attire and rose.
Guided by the mage, I reached the Mejiseion 2nd-floor lecture hall door. A nameplate hung there.
[Monarch Deculein: Lecture on Understanding Pure Elements (Bring Exam Paper)]
“I-I’ll wait behind. Call if… anything, anytime.”
Allen’s face beet-red. I nodded and entered.
Stepping to the podium, I surveyed the attendees.
Oddly familiar.
Professors like Rellin, assistants—even debutantes like Sylvia. Tower folk aplenty.
But the standout face.
Staring straight at me, grinning ominously for some reason.
The chairwoman.
I ignored her gaze and ascended the podium.
“Greetings.”