Deculein. (4)

Loteo Hall.

The name of the university building where I'd just given my lecture. Built ten years ago with a donation from the Yukline count family, it was the third-largest structure on campus.

Now I was strolling through the grounds after leaving Loteo Hall. With classes on break, there were hardly any students around, so I figured I'd take a casual tour.

"Spacious."

The university grounds were far larger than I'd expected. Almost entirely flat, with gardens, sports fields, various buildings and facilities, and pathways—the layout closely resembled the American campuses our team had referenced.

I headed first for the Magic Tower, Deculein's workplace.

For ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reference, the top university in this game was the Imperial Royal University, and the Magic Tower was its crown jewel department. In Korean terms, magic was like Seoul National University's medical school, and the Tower like its university hospital.

As I walked, I belatedly noticed someone scurrying along behind me—pat-pat-pat.

An assassin? I nearly jumped, but it turned out to be the mage who'd ridden with me in the car. Whoever he was, he had his robe pulled over his head, chin tucked low.

"...Was your name Zorro?"

"Pardon? Y-yes? No, no! It's Allen!"

"I got confused."

"Ah... Allen and Zorro... Y-yeah..."

I kept walking without a word. Allen, gauging my mood, suddenly piped up.

"Professor! Walking like that, you look just like a fashion shoot. I should've, y'know, brought a camera—"

"No need for such talk anymore. Walk comfortably."

"Ah, y-yes... Yeeaah..."

Probably something Deculein had ordered before.

True to its name, the Magic Tower was tall enough to stand out from anywhere on campus, and I reached it soon enough just by heading straight toward it.

The Magic Tower's entrance for magical engineering recognized my body and irises, opening on its own.

As soon as I stepped into the lobby, numerous heads bowed toward me. I gave them a nod in return and said to Allen,

"To the office."

"Yes!"

Allen dashed ahead, breathless, and jabbed the lobby elevator button.

Seventy-seven floors.

The mana stone-powered elevator arrived in about three seconds.

My office took up nearly half the floor—spacious and luxurious as befitted its size.

"..."

The interior was sterile-clean like an operating room. Shelves overflowed with books, and the desk held everything from crystal orbs and fountain pens to diamond nameplates, the Imperial University professor's seal, a golden cane... I surveyed the ostentatious space without a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠flicker of expression.

"What is this?"

No sooner had I settled into the chair than a document on the desk caught my eye. Its shape and format resembled a guestbook.

"Ah, the sponsorship list for this year's incoming mages!"

I flipped open the cover and skimmed the contents.

"Hm."

It clicked immediately.

The Magic Tower in this world was a research institution—akin to Caltech or MIT back home, where funding was essential.

No, mages required far more money than modern scientists or engineers.

Not just for developing practical, destructive, or useful spells, but for their own growth: basic food costs, training expenses, material fees—all demanded astronomical sums.

"...?"

As I scanned the names, I tilted my head.

Some mages' names glowed gold.

I instinctively knew they were the "profitable" ones. Likely the synergy of Magnate Tycoon and Naked Eye.

The synergy of a trait that reacts keenly to money-makers and one that visualizes traits.

In other words, from scouting reports analyzing mages' names and strengths/weaknesses alone, I could tell who was worth investing in.

"This name looks familiar..."

Amid them, I spotted a named character.

Luna, Luna, Luna... The photo showed a woman with pale gray hair and jade eyes glaring straight ahead, full of worldly dissatisfaction.

Beautiful yet unrefined—like a blade or a young beast, maybe a leopard or cheetah three months old.

"..."

I hadn't modeled her myself, but I'd overheard at the company that she had a definite grudge against Deculein—something about her father's enemy.

Anyway, her sponsorship stood at zero.

While other incoming mages got at least 10,000 elne.

"Why no sponsorship for this one?"

I asked Allen.

"Pardon?"

"Efrin Luna."

Allen flinched.

"Th-that... Pardon?"

"What's wrong."

"...Y-yeah?"

"Speak freely."

"Ah... The other professors at the Tower and the investors... they're all... watching her closely..."

Because of Deculein, he meant.

I nodded and examined Efrin's scouting report, only to notice something surprising late.

Sponsorship: 0 / 10,000,000

"...Allen. Do you know how much a meal at the cafeteria costs these days?"

"Ah, the king's pork cutlet is 3 elne. Delicious. You should try it sometime... Ah, sorry."

About 1 elne was roughly 1,000 won.

"Then this girl must not know much about the world."

Maximum sponsorship: 10 million elne. She was asking for 10 million—nearly 10 billion won.

Planning to eat till she burst? Even as sponsorship, she'd have to repay it with interest later.

"Sponsorship..."

I stroked my chin, pondering.

This mage, Efrin Luna, was Deculein's enemy.

No—Deculein was her enemy.

But grudge or no, if I left her as in the original game, I would eventually meet the same end at someone's hands.

The villain's fate—inevitable death.

In the game, Deculein died in myriad ways: sword to the heart, wand, arrow, poison, bomb terror—always dead.

Thus, I needed different choices.

Ones the original Deculein would never make.

However...

"Allen, nearly half of these would hate taking my money."

I watched his reaction. Allen flinched, shaking his head as if from a vibration.

His action said no, but it meant yes.

"...Even if they refuse, I'll give it. They dare not reject my sponsorship."

After some thought, amusement soured to resolve, and I checked off most names.

But I left [Sponsor] anonymous.

Leaving my real name could backfire if discovered.

"Allen. Go do your work now."

"Yes, yeeaah!"

Allen replied briskly and left—more spirited than ever.

Alone, I spun the chair to face the window.

The view from the Magic Tower's top floor was decent.

Sunbeams filled the sky; migratory birds soared in flocks near the clouds. Wings darting through light particles seemed freer than anything.

"To survive... first, I need a lot of money."

I murmured low.

The more money, the better—for extending my lifespan. Some of this body's myriad grudges could be settled with cash.

Fortunately, my traits made it no great hardship. Investing in promising mages promised dozens-fold returns.

"Yet if time drags on, how shall I act? Toward what end shall my existence tend...?"

After money, what next?

This world teemed with named characters who hated me, bringing death at every turn.

To survive against them, my path was...

"I must possess 'my own strength.'"

My own strength.

It tied to wealth, of course, but I needed something more fundamental.

Personal martial prowess.

Fortunately, I knew this body's talents. Mediocre overall, but solidly in Elements attribute and Manipulation series.

Not all elements as Deculein boasted, but just two: earth and fire.

Plus, I'd added numerous traits to this body.

Among them, Midas' Hand.

A trait ranked higher than Magnate Tycoon.

To test, I gripped the desk's fountain pen.

Mana: 1,315 / 3,375

Mana sufficiently recovered; activation needed only my mental intent.

"...!"

A twinge at my nape and temples—mana drained.

That was it.

No outward change to the trait-infused pen.

But the change was real—visible only via system.

I spread paper and wrote.

Hanseokbong script.

"...Then."

Setting the pen down, I pondered combining traits and talents.

Naked Eye. Midas' ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hand. Understanding.

Manipulation series. Elements. Fire and earth.

As I actively compared, Understanding activated unwittingly.

Crackle—

Current surged from my brain, electrifying my body. Hair stood on end; insight flashed like lightning.

Earth and fire.

Their harmony forged metal.

And Midas' Hand to reinforce that metal.

A mage's manipulation magic to wield it.

—Sword Control with Qi.

Grand name for "telekinesis," but theoretically perfect as a main focus. Deculein's talent shortfall could be offset by metal quality.

This world wasn't limited to steel alloys. Ridiculous fantasy metals rivaling mithril existed; with overflowing cash, I could forge them...

Satisfied, I nodded deeply.

"If clearing the game is truly the answer, then this body ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shall survive to the end... Ah, why this speech."

I smacked my lips. Only then did I check my posture.

Straight back firm against the chairback, neck neatly on the headrest, arms angled precisely on the armrests.

Such rigid formality was unconscious now.

Frighteningly natural.

"...Allen, are you there."

I called via crystal orb.

Thud-thud-thud—footsteps pounded, and Allen appeared.

"Yes! Here!"

Pity stirred watching him. Like Earth's grad students?

Best not.

"I'll head out for the day. You borrow the books I list and go home too."

"Ah... Y-yes, yeeaah! Got it!"

He seemed oddly reluctant to clock out, but I wrote down a few titles on paper.

First: metal attribute magic. Second: manipulation series magic.

Both basic level, so Allen looked baffled, but he bowed ninety degrees and left.