Miraculously Perfected
I flinched. My eyes fluttered open, then drifted shut, then opened again….
“...Huh?”
Something felt off, so I bolted upright in a panic, wiping drool from my wrist with the back of my hand as I gasped for breath.
“Wh-what?”
It was bright. The sunlight pouring onto my desk was blazing hot.
“No way.”
A foreboding premonition crawled over my skin. And ominous hunches like this usually turned out to be spot on.
I rushed to check the wall clock, and the hour hand was pointing at two in the afternoon. I clutched my disheveled hair and let out a low wail.
“Damn it...!”
I'd pulled an all-nighter, gotten drowsy at dawn, and closed my eyes for just a moment—only to wake up right when the auditors were due to arrive.
I was screwed. Not just screwed, but utterly screwed.
I hadn't even finished the report for the imperial court, and now it was too late.
“You idiot!”
I smacked my forehead with my palm in self-reproach, but that wouldn't change a thing. In the end, I half-resigned myself, propped my elbows on the desk, and sighed deeply.
What the hell am I supposed to tell the auditors...?
I'd skipped sleep for two straight days to write the report with no time to spare, but if I tried excusing it by saying I'd dozed off on the final day and left it incomplete, they'd just scoff. No doubt they'd say the report didn't matter and demand to see the progress on the Artificial Rainfall magic instead. I'd hand over the error-riddled diagram, and they'd mock me in front of the whole imperial delegation.
The House of Deharm becomes a laughingstock.
Everything else I could handle, but that thought made me grimace.
Did Princess Benelia plan this from the start?
Three years ago, she'd cut off imperial funding and forced me into independent research on the one magic I'd declared as such. There had to be a reason for digging it up now and demanding completion.
To make a fool of me? No. The imperial court wouldn't bother with a viscount's house like Deharm.
Princess Benelia simply wanted to tarnish Count Leoberg's reputation through me. To the centralist empire, the Pelgaroin family—with its strength rivaling a small kingdom—was a thorn in their side.
"The talent recommended by Count Leoberg turned out to be a fraud. Looks like the count has no eye for people..."
I could practically hear the princess's mocking quip in my ear. Was she really using me as a pawn in her political games? It might be paranoia, but the possibility kept my nerves on edge.
Whatever her goal, it's too late to turn back now...
The auditors were coming, and I had to present my research progress somehow. I glanced heavily at the magic paper spread out on my desk—and froze in surprise.
Huh?
Circuits, symbols, runes. All three core elements of the spell meshed together without a single flaw.
Just yesterday, fixing one circuit had broken another in an endless loop that nearly drove me mad. How had every error been corrected overnight?
To be sure, I touched the magic circle and channeled a trace amount of mana through my fingertips.
Shhh—
The mana spread smoothly, permeating the entire circle without blockage. It glowed faintly, confirming it operated perfectly.
What the...?
Did I have sleepwalking genius? Had I unleashed some prodigious talent in my sleep and fixed everything?
No way.
Logically, someone else must have corrected it while I slept. And that someone was unmistakably the Elf. She was the only one in the mansion with that level of magical knowledge.
But why help me?
I had no idea, but thanks to her, I wouldn't face total humiliation. A diagram this meticulously crafted would earn some leniency even if the actual spell failed on the first try.
At the very least, Count Leoberg wouldn't be disgraced because of me.
Knock knock—
The knock came right on cue. I shook off my fatigue and looked up.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Habid entered, his face somewhat tense.
“My lord. Distinguished guests have arrived from the capital.”
“Distinguished guests?”
“Five mages from the imperial palace and Professor Roilen from the Imperial University Magic Tower.”
They'd sent a full professor from the university tower as an auditor. It was about what I'd expected, so it didn't shock me.
“Prepare the finest refreshments and receive them in the drawing room. I'll wash up quickly and join you. I can't meet imperial representatives looking like this.”
“Understood. It shall be done.”
Habid bowed and left the room. No time to waste—I gathered my things and hurried out of the study.
*
After freshening up, I headed straight to the drawing room, report, research log, and magic paper in hand.
There sat Professor Roilen from the university tower, dressed in the stylish attire popular in the duchies—similar to the tailcoats Habid always wore, often called formal suits. He was chatting amiably with the Elf at the table.
My heart skipped—would the Elf cause trouble?—but the warm atmosphere suggested otherwise.
As I approached quietly, Roilen stood with a bright smile and greeted me. His handsome face radiated a healthy middle-aged charm.
“You must be Viscount Theorad. Forgive us for arriving earlier than scheduled.”
“The fault is mine for keeping you waiting. I hope my slave hasn't inconvenienced you.”
“Inconvenienced? Haha, that's a good one.”
Roilen glanced at the Elf. Unlike her usual demeanor, she bowed politely, her neat posture evoking a well-trained maid.
“Truth be told, I lost track of time talking with her. She mentioned linking biometric waves to magical breathing for simplified incantations—an idea so ingenious, feasibility aside.”
Roilen chuckled heartily and shot me a knowing look, one brimming with goodwill.
“She makes me realize how limited my knowledge is. Did you train her in magic yourself?”
“The slave probably...”
“I'm not talking about the slave. Enough false modesty. How could a mere slave discourse on magical fundamentals? It's clear you, Viscount Theorad, possess vast knowledge, and she's merely parroting scraps for my benefit.”
The misunderstanding ran deep.
“I don't have the depth of knowledge you describe. Compared to Professor Roilen, mine is a drop in the ocean.”
“Excessive humility is poison. And drop the formalities. I'm no noble to warrant such treatment, even in the capital—let alone here in the provinces.”
What nonsense. A full professor at the Imperial University Magic Tower commanded respect across the empire. The emperor's approval was required for the position. Disrespecting one was tantamount to disrespecting His Majesty himself. No noble could afford to slight him lightly.
Was he testing me? I shook my head, a flicker of annoyance rising.
“For both our dignities, I must insist. Eyes are watching.”
“Mm. I didn't mean to put you in a bind. Very well. But may I see the diagram for the Artificial Rainfall magic you've been researching, Viscount Theorad?”
“Ah, the report and log first...”
“I said the diagram. The rest is mere formality.”
He wasn't wrong, but there were protocols. Still, I couldn't refuse an auditor's direct request. I pulled out the magic paper and handed it over.
“Here you are.”
“My thanks.”
Roilen accepted it with both hands, drew a fine wand from his pocket, and tapped the paper. It floated up and unfurled dramatically to either side.
Nearly eight years of effort—five without imperial support—were now under scrutiny. Even with the Elf's masterful fixes, tension gripped me. But I kept a calm facade.
“Hm? How is this...”
Roilen peered intently, then donned spectacles from his pocket for a closer inspection. He muttered about circuit connections, symbol linkages, rune compatibility—and finally uttered awe without finding a flaw.
“My word.”
Genuinely stunned, he folded the paper, clenching his fist in barely contained excitement, face flushed like an explorer discovering a new continent.
“I heard imperial funding ended three years ago. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“And regular reports stopped around then?”
“Indeed.”
“I reviewed those records before coming... This defies belief. No offense, Viscount, but independent research without support rarely explodes like this.”
Still buzzing, Roilen gripped my shoulder lightly.
“No time to waste. Let's head out and test manifestation with the palace mages. A circle this perfect might succeed on the first try! This is huge!”
“Professor Roilen, please calm down a bit...”
“Calm? This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to witness history-making magic!”
“I get it, so stop pulling...”
“Let's go! I'll lead the way!”
Who knew a mage could have such a iron grip? Helpless, I let Roilen drag me from the drawing room.
*
The Elf found Roilen's fuss hilarious. A chance of success on the first try? Speak sense.
Your puny human mana pools were irrelevant; she'd made the circle guaranteed to succeed.
Because I crafted it that way.
Centuries of accumulated experience and knowledge infused every line. Theorad's spell would work, and the arrogant short-lived Roilen would have no choice but to acknowledge him.
Not a bad outcome if it meant her toy got repaired.
Guess I'll watch.
Beating brooms around the mansion sounded dull by comparison.
As the Elf turned to leave, someone yanked her clothes from behind.
Gasp!
She stumbled back and whirled to find Habid smacking her head with a scowl.
“You fool! Can't you see the other servants cleaning the table? Instead of helping, you trail after the master like a lost puppy? Have you got a brain in there or not?!”
“Hah.”
Her face hardened coldly, glaring at Habid.
Should I kill him?
The Elf was starting to truly despise him.