Semester's End. (3)
Sylvia manifested her magic. Her magic circle formed slowly, and the entire classroom watched with bated breath, eyes full of anticipation.
The promising candidate for the next archmage.
What kind of spell would Ilayde's Sylvia pull off?
"……"
Sylvia's magic started from a premise that far surpassed any ordinary professor in mana capacity. She wove her spell with an immense volume of mana.
"Huh?"
But in the eyes of Ifrin, who watched right beside her, doubt slowly crept in.
Ifrin could tell.
Or rather, Sylvia's magic circle was so off-kilter that even Ifrin could see it.
Whiiiiiing──!
Mana condensed as if it might burst. A tremendous gust warped the space around it, sweeping across the floor and sucking at the hem of Ifrin's robe.
"……"
Deculein watched Sylvia silently. Her magic merely amplified repeatedly, manifesting no phenomenon.
Craaaackle……
The sphere of mana scorched the ground. It grew denser through repeated compression and contraction, burning fiercely.
At this rate, the outcome would be nothing but an explosion, so at some point—
Deculein severed her incantation circuit.
……
The spell unraveled, and the classroom fell into heavy silence. At Sylvia's failure, the debutantes merely mouthed silent words.
"It failed."
The one whose spell had been dismantled remained composed. She glanced up at Deculein a bit hesitantly.
"I'm still lacking."
But Deculein's gaze was cold. He shook his head as he looked down at her.
Sylvia bit her lip.
"It's unfair."
"What is?"
"You say there's nothing left for me to learn because I'm good, but the deficient ones get teachings because they're bad."
A few debutantes flinched as if pricked.
"That doesn't make sense. If someone's good, shouldn't you watch them even more closely?"
He's my muse. Meeting him is already my fortune. I'm more suited to his teachings than anyone else in this tower……
Sylvia believed she would grow even more under him.
Deculein regarded Sylvia. Sylvia didn't avert her eyes from his.
"No. It isn't unfair."
"It is unfair."
"The unfair thing is your talent."
The air grew heavy in an instant.
"Do geniuses suffer woes superior even to those of the mediocre?"
Kim Woojin had once heard a genius complain.
A guy more talented than him, who even went abroad on scholarship, whining that his drawings weren't coming out lately, that his standards were too high just for him……
"No. You, who need no teaching, cannot understand those who cannot grow without it."
He never cared what slumps those geniuses went through.
Not even a damn bit. The hardworking types shedding bloody tears over their lack of talent despised whiny geniuses.
Deculein must have been the same.
"Sylvia. This is no academy. No one will indulge your complaints."
"……"
"If you can't endure it, quit of your own accord."
At that, Sylvia bowed her head.
"If you won't quit, become someone worthy of your talent."
Each of his words stabbed her heart like a blade.
Her mind felt on the verge of crumbling.
"The mana condensation you deliberately caused just now was dangerous. It could have caused casualties in an explosion. Ten demerit points."
Ten demerit points.
The maximum even a regular professor couldn't impose.
"Whoa, ten points is insane……"
The entire classroom gaped in shock, and Ifrin muttered without thinking.
Just then, her eyes met Deculein's.
"Ifrin. Profanity during class."
"Ah, wait a sec! No! No!"
"One additional demerit point."
"Nooooo──!"
The tower's semester end kept everyone busy, from undergrads to faculty.
For professors, it was time to start projects or evaluate results; for mages, to prepare for exams (finals or promotions) or write papers. And from then on, scouting inquiries from territories, nations, companies, and adventure parties flooded in earnest.
Winter brought many missions like monster waves, civilian aid, and firepower support, so summer—the end of the first semester—was truly the most critical time in a mage's career.
"Professor Ruina. Just this consultation week, 117 people have requested sessions."
Ruina's assistant professor, her direct disciple 'Jenkin' from the kingdom tower, said.
117 people.
A whopping 39 times Deculein's number.
Thanks to the reputation she'd built in the kingdom, and rumors of her character spreading through the tower, mages kept requesting consultations with Ruina nonstop.
"……"
"……Professor?"
But Ruina herself was dazed.
Deculein's image from moments ago kept flashing in her mind.
"……Blood."
"Pardon?"
Blood stained Deculein's lips. And the office reeked distinctly of blood. No mere scratch or nosebleed could produce that scent.
"As I thought……"
It had to be vomiting blood.
Ruina leaned back in her chair and sighed.
Today's events had all but confirmed it.
Deculein would die in five years.
"Professor?"
"……Huh? Oh, right. 117. Ten a day works."
"Yes. Also, the approval documents came down."
"Already? In three hours?"
Ruina's eyes widened. The documents Jenkin handed her bore the chief administrator's clear [ Approval ] stamp.
She'd expected at least one or two weeks.
Ruina nodded with a wry smile.
"Things are going well. With the budget secured, bring all the old crew."
Ruina had formally submitted her resignation to the kingdom tower. Her most trusted disciple took the chief professor position, but many still wanted to follow her.
"Yes. I've already contacted them."
"Good. Go on."
After sending Jenkin off, Ruina quietly surveyed her office.
"Spacious."
The Imperial University Tower's 47th-floor professor office was comparable in size to the kingdom chief professor's.
That was the staggering gap between kingdom and empire.
"Heh. Five years…… Don't you think it's karma?"
She muttered cynically, but a bitterness laced her tone. In the end, Ruina let out a deep sigh.
"……Haa."
Her thirst for revenge against Deculein had indeed been a passion burning in one corner of her heart—a grand purpose filling her life.
But for that to end like this?
"My life, your life. What a fucking mess."
Her feelings were complicated in every way.
More precisely, wretched.
6 PM, after all classes ended.
Ifrin, having crossed the demerit line, was dragged to the tower's administrative office.
"Kuhahaha! What's this? Your final demerit is from Chief Professor Deculein?!"
"……"
"Kellkellkel! Yes! I always thought that man would one day snap at your arrogance!"
Professor Rellin, the tower's self-appointed moral guardian, guffawed as he shoved cleaning tools at Ifrin.
Scrubbing brush. Mop. Rubber gloves. Detergent, etc. Ifrin loaded them all into a wheeled basket.
"Get lost and clean, you brat! Kellkellkel!"
"How far?"
"Floors 3 through 4 today! Kellkellkel!"
"……Yes."
"Hahaha! Krhuhuhu! Kellkel! Hahaha! Hahahaha! Kellkellkel!"
He's laughing like a total psycho. Lungs full of hot air or what?
Ifrin pouted and trudged out.
"Sigh……"
Incidentally, using magic for cleaning was fine.
But the number of bathrooms was the issue. Each floor had nearly ten, so floors 3-4 meant a whopping twenty.
"No wonder my horoscope sucked this week. Gotta swap with tarot."
Ifrin started cleaning the third-floor bathrooms.
She first tried handling tools with Telekinesis, but it was tough. So she mixed detergent into a water spray from Water Serpent.
Mess up the control, and shit particles would splash, so she carefully scrubbed toilets and tiles.
"……Hngh."
After finishing the first bathroom—
"Ah."
She ran into Deculein in front of the third-floor professor elevator.
He was impeccably suited for leaving work, but frowned in disgust at Ifrin's appearance.
Ifrin bristled for no reason.
This is your fault! One point instead of two!
"Professor. Isn't ten demerits at once too much? It's the first in ten years."
"Yours is two."
Can't even do math? His eyes said.
Ifrin's face scrunched like an angry bulldog.
"No, not me—Sylvia."
Deculein stared at her steadily.
"……Ifrin."
"Yes."
He continued as if exasperated.
"Who should worry about whom? The only debutante who understands me is Sylvia. You're not qualified."
"……"
Ifrin shut her mouth.
Well, can't argue with that. She's the only perfect score on the midterm.
Ding—
The elevator arrived. Deculein stepped in, and Ifrin pouted, muttering.
"……I tried so hard not to get those two points."
Ifrin resumed bathroom cleaning.
Third-floor staff restroom, cafeteria restroom, standard restroom, disabled-access restroom, then up to fourth-floor mage restroom……
"Dede~ Deculein dummy~ Dum~ my~ in the world~"
The most unlucky~ guy~
She hummed like a work song.
Clack—
The basket's wheel caught someone's heel.
"……?"
She looked up.
It was Sylvia.
Ifrin tried to go right around her, but Sylvia blocked. Left next—blocked again.
Ifrin's brows furrowed in an inverted V.
"What? Move. I'll shove you with the cart."
"Arrogant Ifrin. What're you humming?"
"Work song."
"……"
Ifrin belatedly noticed Sylvia's state. She looked angry, with darker circles than usual.
"Arrogant Ifrin. You wouldn't know. The blessing you received. Because you're an idiot."
"……Look, whatever you're thinking—"
"Parachute. An idiot parachute that can't even open."
From 6 to 9 PM today, enduring the ten-demerit penalty 'Lordran's Personality Enlightenment,' Sylvia had unwittingly imagined it.
A horrific future where Ifrin, as Deculein's disciple, surpassed her.
"Sigh. Dunno what parachute means, but I just ran into that professor?"
"Arrogant parachute."
Sylvia couldn't fathom it no matter what. Why take on a girl who speaks so carelessly……
Then Ifrin said:
"You like that professor, don't you?"
"Crazy."
Sylvia blurted it out unconsciously. Her face flushed immediately. Shocked by her own words, she clapped hands over her mouth.
"Pft. You do, huh?"
"No. No. Not like that. He's my muse."
"Dunno what that means, but you know what he said to you?"
"……To me."
"Yeah. To you, he said—"
Rubbing her chin, Ifrin recalled Deculein's exact words. Sylvia feigned disinterest, focusing on Ifrin's lips.
Ifrin whispered:
"Deculein said you're the only one who understands him."
"……!"
Sylvia choked on her breath for a moment.
And said nothing.
"Today, dunno why you rebelled so weirdly, but doesn't that mean he trusts you that much?"
Sylvia said nothing. Frozen like a statue.
"……Hey?"
Ifrin poked her. Sylvia's lips quivered, but no words came.
Gauging her, Ifrin cautiously asked:
"I gave you good info, so dinner on you tonight?"
"……"
Sylvia eyed her with just her gaze. Ifrin licked her lips oddly and added:
"Then, I'll pretend I didn't hear what just came out of your mouth."
Dazed Sylvia soon nodded.
The gloomy mood had vanished.
……
The capital's famous eatery Pig's Flower.
Ifrin arrived at her regular spot with Sylvia.
"Here~ Ifrin!"
The owner set down a roahawk roast set.
Sizzle─ sizzle─
Deadly allure bubbling on the hot stone.
Ifrin's mouth watered already. Saliva pooling? Anyway.
"Brought a friend today."
"Not a friend."
Sylvia glared thinly, correcting. The owner shrugged and asked:
"Really? Then what're you?"
"……"
Sylvia pondered, then pointed at Ifrin.
"She's my slave."
Ifrin jumped.
"What nonsense? Slavery's been abolished for 300 years."
"Hahaha. Quite the spirited noble. Enjoy. You too, Ifrin."
The owner chuckled and left. Ifrin donned gloves and gripped the roahawk's bone.
"Grab the bone like this and tear. Super tasty? Try it."
Sylvia stared at her in disbelief. Disliking the barbaric posture, she sought knife and fork.
"……"
But maybe because of Ifrin eating like a caveman, there were none. No choice—she conjured them with magic.
Nom nom nom─
Chewing happily, Ifrin glanced at Sylvia. Sylvia sliced only the meat with her knife.
Ifrin beamed.
"How's it? Tasty?"
Sylvia replied dryly.
"I have no sense of taste."
"……"
Ifrin's movements halted. Her slowly chewing lips glistened with meat fat.
"……For real?"
"Yes."
"Why? You ate that fish fine before."
"I was hungry then. Not now."
Ifrin recalled and nodded belatedly. True, Sylvia never said it was tasty back then.
"……Since birth?"
"No. Lost it later."
"Ah…… Sorry."
Ifrin shut up and focused on her meat, sneaking glances. Sylvia really just picked at the roahawk.
Even with roahawk, like that. She really has no taste……
"Still, it's packed with nutrition and stamina. Called a superfood? You feel your mana rise after."
"……"
No reaction from Sylvia. Ifrin smiled wryly.
—10 minutes later.
"……"
Ifrin blankly stared at Sylvia's plate. Hers had only bones left; Sylvia's still had plenty of meat.
"……Smack."
Sylvia said to wistfully smacking Ifrin:
"You eat it."
"……Huh? No, it's fine……"
"Eat."
Twice is rude.
"Yeah, thanks."
Eating Sylvia's leftovers, Ifrin thought:
First meeting at the tower was disastrous, family relations too…… but she's not all bad.
Look at that.
True to her word, she's handling the bill?
Tick-tock— tick-tock—
Normally, she'd be reviewing magic at this late hour, but tonight the mansion echoed only with the clock.
—The only one who understands me is Sylvia.
Sylvia replayed Ifrin's words in Deculein's voice.
—The only one who understands me.
Regrettable she didn't hear it herself.
But imagination sufficed.
Her needle-pricked heart healed in an instant; her stifled mind now felt free as if it might soar.
—Is solely Sylvia.
Yet, even as she basked silently smiling in joy, sorrow inevitably crept in.
Because he understood her, he was letting her go.
So they could meet again from higher places……
"Bearpanda."
Sylvia pulled out the bearpanda Deculein gifted her. She draped the handkerchief he'd given over its back.
"This is your cape."
Dubbed Cape Bearpanda. Clutching the adorable thing, Sylvia lay in bed.
Moonlight filtering through the quiet night.
Bearpanda atop the covers, Quickrock by the bedside. Nothing scary anywhere. It felt like the world guarded her.
—The only one who understands me is solely Sylvia.
In that fulfillment, replaying his voice once more—
Sylvia fell peacefully asleep.
"……So that's what happened. That damn Deculein."
Meanwhile, Ilayde's Gilteon received the tower's official notice in his estate office. It detailed Deculein imposing ten demerits on Sylvia.
"Shall we lodge a formal protest?"
Gilteon shook his head at the butler's words.
"No."
Ten demerits.
Neither Gilteon, his father, grandfather, great-grandfather—nor anyone in Ilayde—had ever suffered such humiliation at the tower.
"It's fine."
Twenty years ago, he'd have taken it as a declaration of war.
But now, it didn't matter.
He didn't care.
"Leave it be."
Gilteon even smiled.
No need to see it as humiliation.
These piling emotions would someday fuel Ilayde's brilliant blaze.
"If the child's at fault, she must take the demerits, no?"
With that, Gilteon burned the notice. The document turned to ash and faded.