The Ancient Missing Link (1)
“Professor Gracy…… you mean her?” Dana asked, her brow furrowed as she forced a respectful tone she clearly didn’t feel. In the rigid academic world, speaking casually to a former advisor was madness. Even though they no longer shared the same lab, Yerna still outranked her in seniority and experience. Yet ever since Yerna had noticed Dana’s feelings for me and declared she would bear my child, Dana had come to genuinely despise her—nothing like the days at Carmine University. That reluctant honorific was the result.
Dana pushed aside her earlier embarrassment and adopted a serious expression. Naturally, the mere mention of that bitch’s name made my own eyebrows twitch for the first time in a while.
“Professor Gracy’s contract with Carmine University has ended, and she has transferred to our institution. Were you unaware?” the dean added when our reactions grew strange. We had known Yerna was here. In this other world, universities and educated classes were far rarer than in twenty-first-century Korea. Naturally, Lordbrick University—securely positioned in a bustling trade city—ranked among Germania’s top institutions, prestigious enough to hire Yerna as a professor. That was precisely why we had come here to investigate papers; if any document existed, Lordbrick would not have missed it.
‘Still, meeting that woman now would be premature.’ Dana and I had already decided that confronting Yerna during this trip was too soon. Until our voices carried more weight in academia, destroying her would not be the wisest move. A gentleman’s revenge need not take ten years, but even if I slit her throat right now, my stolen thesis would not magically return. On the contrary, we might be painted as murderers who killed her to steal her work. If the winners of the Thousand Wings Award—the otherworld equivalent of the Nobel Prize—were slaughtered by us, we would be finished. Winning would mean nothing if we lost everything else.
“We were aware,” Dana replied coolly. “We simply had no intention of seeking her out.”
“……I see.” Sensing the tension, the old dean seemed to grasp the situation. Dysfunctional professor–graduate student relationships were as common as middle-aged couples in a rut. Dana’s hatred of Yerna was hardly unusual, so the dean, if she had any sense, would steer the conversation elsewhere.
‘How does this old woman even know Dana’s background?’ Yerna would never have bragged about her former slave. We had entered Lordbrick University through official channels. Dana had signed in as a doctor of archaeology; I had signed as her escort, a mere adventurer. In other words, the only information the university could have obtained was our names and statuses. Yet they had summoned us and recited our pasts without preamble. That could only mean they had known Dana’s name and identity beforehand. Moreover, within mere hours of our arrival, word had reached the dean and we had been called in. Something must have happened to Yerna.
‘They weren’t targeting Dana specifically, were they?’ Perhaps while investigating Yerna, they had recalled “Master’s student Dana Berbeia,” who once worked in the same lab at Carmine University.
Anyway, when the dean noticed Dana’s dangerous expression, she offered an apology. “I must apologize for investigating Doctor Berbeia’s background. I grew impatient and made a mistake. Professor Gracy has been missing for nearly a month now……”
“……I understand. It’s only natural.” Dana gave a perfunctory reply. Of course the dean wasn’t truly sorry, but at least she had made a show of backing down. As working adults, we had to know when to compromise. Besides, our attention was fixed on something far more important than her rudeness.
“You said Professor Gracy has gone missing?” Dana asked, allowing the dean to change the subject.
The old woman’s face grew solemn, as though delivering tragic news. “Yes. For reasons unknown, she has not come to the research lab for the past month. There are no signs she has even entered her residence. We wondered if anyone connected to her might have news, which is how we learned of you, Doctor Berbeia.”
“She didn’t simply leave on a research trip?” Dana tilted her head, as if unwilling to accept the assumption. Of course the dean of a first-rate university would not have come in person over mere speculation; Dana’s question was merely an invitation to continue.
“Our university believes Professor Gracy would not have departed without notice. When we signed the contract, we promised her full research funding. The likelihood she cut contact of her own accord is extremely low.” The dean spoke as though genuinely puzzled. If her words were true, then something was indeed amiss. Yerna had always been obsessively attached to research grants, having spent decades without noble patrons or sponsors. If she had vanished without a word, there must have been a compelling reason. She would not have stolen another thesis simply to create another victim like me. Someone must have been after her.
‘There are clues, too.’ I recalled the directive letter from Tabula, safely hidden in our house in Sargadis.
—Current highest-priority assassination target: Archaeologist Yerna Gracy.
The ominous order, written in crimson on black paper, was already known to both Franc and Dana.
“I am concerned to hear she is missing, but she has not contacted me either.” Dana kept her expression carefully neutral. Since I, her escort, remained standing rather than seated on the sofa, the dean’s scrutiny was focused solely on her.
“I have known Professor Gracy for quite some time, yet disappearing for dozens of days without any word is unlike her. Perhaps some circumstance arose?”
“Yes. That is precisely why we wished to ask whether you might know anything about that circumstance.”
“Even so,” Dana answered politely, “our relationship was never close enough for private correspondence, and the last time I saw her I was busy writing my doctoral thesis. She was preoccupied with preparations for her transfer.”
Dana’s reply was smooth; there was no need to lie, and she truly did not know. “I came today on institute business, so I was unaware Professor Gracy had gone missing until you informed me, Dean.”
“……Understood. I apologize for wasting your time.” The dean might not have been able to verify Dana’s words, but she had at least realized she would get no useful answer. Anyone who failed to notice such open hostility had clearly never needed to read the room in their life—and such a person could never have become dean of a top university.
“Thank you for your time despite your busy schedule. We will take our leave.”
“Yes. Thank you for your hospitality.” Dana offered a courteous farewell. Courtesy mattered. The dean had granted us an audience only because Dana held a doctorate; normally, someone of the dean’s stature would not spare time for such questions. Rudeness here would only spawn ugly rumors in academia. Taking personal grudges out on uninvolved parties earned contempt in any circle.
—Step, step.
We left the corridor without speaking, heading back toward the library. It was not because we had nothing to say or because the atmosphere had soured. Once inside the library again, we sat with our backs to the wall—visible to anyone approaching—and communicated through writing.
—Missing. That’s why, right?
Dana, seated beside me, wrote on the notebook. I picked up my pen as well.
—I’m certain she’s being hunted. The question is why.
—Husband, you idiot. What else could it be besides that thesis?
She wrote while lightly stepping on my foot. Viewed in isolation, her words made sense. I had found Tabula’s directive letter less than a month after my thesis was stolen. Yerna could not have drawn that organization’s aggro in the meantime. The probability that her past actions had only now come to a head was close to zero.
‘If she had been threatened for a long time, Tabula’s men would have attacked us while we explored ruins together.’ Yet during our tours outside Carmine University, no one had come to kill Yerna. In other words, I agreed that her disappearance stemmed from something recent. Among recent events, the biggest was her receiving the otherworld Nobel—the Thousand Wings Award—with the thesis she had stolen from me. That was undeniable fact.
‘But there’s a problem with that theory too.’ I let out a small sigh.
—At first I thought the same. But the more I think about it, the less it adds up.
—?
—Think about it. If the Thousand Wings Award caused all this, why haven’t they approached us? Wouldn’t it be more efficient to capture us like the dean did and extract our location?
The Thousand Wings Award—the downgraded Nobel of this world—had been won with the thesis Yerna stole from me. As the paper sent shockwaves through academia, her personal information had spread everywhere. Dana licked her lips and wrote in neat script.
—Shit, you’re right. That thesis is known to have been written at Carmine University in Britannia, so they should have come looking for us, her former colleagues.
—And they wouldn’t have come to talk nicely. From what we’ve heard, they’ve been unable to find Yerna for at least a month. They could have diverted some of their assassination team to us, yet they didn’t.
It hardly mattered what kind of group Tabula’s black organization was. The issue was that if the thesis were the cause, they should have made some move against the research students of Carmine University’s archaeology department—people who might have helped write it. Instead, it felt as though they cared about nothing except Yerna herself.
—According to what you told me, even if the organization as a whole is different, that guy and his superiors showed clear religious overtones—talk of gods and offerings. I thought maybe the paper contradicted their doctrine.
—Yeah. But that reason doesn’t feel like “blasphemers must be slaughtered on sight.” If it were, now that the thesis content has spread throughout academia, we’d be seeing people hunting down every archaeologist as a heretic.
—Whatever group they are, they act according to a firm rationale. That’s why we weren’t targeted. Maybe they concluded that killing only Yerna would be enough?
When I wrote that, Dana stopped writing mid-sentence. Then, at the edge of the paper, she added a small line.
—What will you do if you find Yerna?
Ah. We had never discussed this topic separately before. Perhaps because the scope and goals of my life had expanded so wildly, there had been no room to bring up Yerna while explaining everything. It had also been somewhat off-topic.
Dana waited for my answer. I wrote honestly.
—There will be no forgiveness. No matter what reason she has, no matter what lunatics roam this world, I will not forgive that woman.
That day, Dana and I searched Lordbrick University’s library until sunset. Yet not a single paper existed regarding the true purpose of rune stones. Not one.