Chapter 294
Chapter 294
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 294
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“So. Why did you want me to stay here?”
“…….”
No answer came.
Whether he was pretending not to hear me or just had nothing to say, Leonard simply kept sleeping.
‘I hope I don’t catch his cold too.’
That was my thought, but I wasn’t too worried. It was just a kid’s cold, so I probably already had immunity. When I channeled divine power into Leonard’s bed, he finally opened his eyes again. Sure enough, waking a magic maniac required magic.
“Shall I fetch His Majesty the King?”
He’d been perfectly capable of telling Emmanuel to scram, but now he wouldn’t say a word. When he shook his head, I kept pouring divine power into him with a whatever attitude.
“Why’d you catch a cold?”
“…….”
“Studying too much? The schedule’s pretty tough for a five-year-old. Or was it the training?”
At my last words, Leonard quickly shook his head.
He must like training. Excluding combat magic, he took one hour each of three subjects a day. For a crown prince born into this, it seemed like something he had to endure... but the content wasn’t easy, so it made sense he’d find it hard. From what he’d told me about his lessons, at his age he’d already covered almost everything kids here learned in elementary school. I didn’t know their middle school curriculum exactly, but it felt like he was going beyond that.
As I felt a twinge of sympathy, Leonard quietly called out to me.
“Teacher.”
“Yes.”
“I’m hungry.”
“…….”
What was he expecting me to do about it...?
It felt like being at school. Kids begging their teacher for snacks came to mind.
“Then I’ll go tell the kitchen right now.”
“Euuumm.”
Not the answer he wanted, apparently—Leonard grabbed my arm.
I wanted to go back and ask: Why was this kid such a handful at five? At five, I’d listened to my parents perfectly. I poured a burst of divine power into Leonard and said,
“Fine... Have some divine power.”
“It’s not food.”
“It’s about the same. Makes you stronger.”
“I see.”
Whether he realized I was talking nonsense and decided not to bother, or if he was just tired, Leonard surprisingly accepted it without protest. Meanwhile, I called a servant to order food and changed his damp cloth.
‘Is this really my schedule today?’
I’d come as a combat magic instructor, not a babysitter. But ignoring his request and leaving to do whatever I wanted felt too heartless, so spending the day like this was probably right.
I dragged a sofa over, sat down, and read a book on holy relics and the occult. A bit later, Leonard recovered enough energy to get up and watch me. I asked if he wanted me to read him a picture book, but he wasn’t at that level and just said no.
Five hours into our time in the sickroom, I checked on Leonard’s condition and said,
“Shall we head out?”
“Huh?”
I pointed to the window. Leonard’s face lit up as he called the doctor to ask if he could go outside. Luckily, the doctor said April’s weather was fine, so as long as he didn’t leave the crown prince’s palace gardens, it was okay. I bundled up the still-winter-dressed Leonard and took him to the lawn by the small artificial lake, where I lay down.
‘This is nice.’
Better than being cooped up inside, apparently—Leonard sat beside me, his complexion brighter than before.
As he fiddled with my wand, he asked,
“Teacher. How far can you go with divine power?”
“Pretty much anything.”
“Then can you manipulate my mind too?”
“Yes.”
Leonard’s eyes widened at that.
“Have you done it?”
“…No. Why would I need to drag you anywhere?”
“Then when do you use mind manipulation magic? In combat too?”
“You can, but in combat, opponents focus all their nerves on defense, so it often fails. Their mana tries to repel the divine power.”
“…! It’s not omnipotent, then.”
“Of course not. If I could do everything, I’d have conquered the world by now.”
The 17-year-old Leo obviously knew that, but this 5-year-old didn’t.
Leonard burst out laughing, then fell into thought. After a moment, he asked in a quieter voice,
“Are you close with my uncle?”
“I guess... Not sure.”
“Then why haven’t you been at the crown prince’s palace lately?”
“…….”
Ah...
Now I got why he was so listless. No way, I’d thought. I tilted my head with a smile.
“I should’ve played with you more.”
Not the right response either—Leonard’s expression hardened.
It didn’t take long to realize “playing with you” was the problem. Even if he was a kid, I shouldn’t treat him like one. The air turned chilly because of it. As I opened my mouth to correct myself, Leonard beat me to it.
“If I’d been born in 1863, I could’ve been friends with you, right?”
I wanted to tell him we already were friends.
I knew exactly how he felt. Kids that age wish their favorite teacher watched only them, praised only them. The world still revolved around them alone. And it wasn’t just teachers—sometimes they wanted close friends to play only with them. That fades as they mature, but expecting that maturity now was too much. I remembered doing the same with my acting teacher at that age.
‘Separate from being grateful he sees me that way...’
This is fun...
A hollow laugh escaped me. The 17-year-old Leo wouldn’t get it if I told him.
“Teacher.”
“Yes.”
“Will you be my teacher until I’m an adult?”
I couldn’t lie.
Instead of answering, I looked down at him. Leonard met my gaze, then looked at the ground.
“Lately, I’ve been studying the O-Hyeonje era. I finished reading the Jaseongrok with my philosophy teacher.”
“I see. Interesting studies.”
“Do you know Fronto?”
The teacher of Emperor Marcus Aurelius, famous to us as the author of Meditations—which was the Jaseongrok. I nodded.
“Of course.”
“Fronto and Emperor Marcus were close. ‘How else could I call you but my closest friend?’ That’s what Marcus Aurelius said to his teacher Fronto. They were nearly twenty years apart, but still close friends. We’re almost twenty years apart too, aren’t we?”
“My closest friend.”
He was unhappy that because he was young, I had to “play with” him—and he wanted to be close like his uncle.
Even without him saying it, he was already my closest friend in this world. Among the living, maybe the closest in my whole life. I didn’t want to dwell on it. Closing my eyes, Leonard started reciting what he’d learned, as usual.
“I like the letters between Fronto and Marcus Aurelius. Marcus cherished Fronto, but Fronto cherished Marcus too.”
“Hm. Things like, ‘Farewell, my lord, most sweet, most missed, my best reason for living.’ That’s from the end of Fronto’s letters to Marcus Aurelius. Or ‘who am no lover, but I can discern your beauty as well as anyone else, aye, far more accurately, I might say, even than your lover’?”
“…Teacher, you know English too?”
“I came from America...”
“Oh.”
Not that I learned it there. I just remembered reading the originals. Before coming to this world, Meditations was my favorite book. I’d read it to pieces and memorized it all. After that, I hunted down letters between Marcus and his teachers, mostly untranslated into Korean, so I got English or German editions. Sometimes that was easier; translating to Korean was harder, so I remembered them in English.
Leonard, having forgotten—falsely—that I was from America, nodded in shock. But his response was calm.
“…Yeah. That’s it.”
“Hm, good. I’m not a classics teacher, but to explain... It’s not insincere, but this is Roman rhetorical convention. Ask your Latin or Greek teacher—they’ll explain. We shouldn’t take such rhetoric literally with our era’s knowledge. Even if it was perfectly sincere... If I were Fronto, I’d be the teacher watching a student go against my wishes.”
I could see Leonard’s mouth drop open in shock. Fun to tease. He’d meant it as praise for a good teacher-student bond, not that the student would defy him—so of course. Smiling at his face, I continued.
“Fronto, the Latin rhetoric teacher, wanted his student not to be swayed by philosophy, to focus purely on rhetoric and oratory. In an era of Greek literature trends, he stubbornly stuck to Latin, disciplining his student for using Greek. But how is Marcus Aurelius famous to us? What language is his greatest work, the Jaseongrok, written in?”
“…….”
Ah, this is fun.
Leonard’s face paled.
Marcus Aurelius is famous as a Stoic philosopher in our time and the 19th century. His teacher Fronto hoped he wouldn’t fall for philosophy, but he became a philosopher. Fronto wanted focus on rhetoric, but in Meditations Book 1, he thanks lacking talent for it. Fronto hoped he’d love Latin’s beauty—and he might have—but his late-life honest diary was still in Greek.
They kept a good bond despite diverging paths, but Marcus didn’t age as his teacher wished.
At the same time, I marveled at Leonard’s prodigious memory. Reacting like that meant he knew all the answers to my questions. Even cramming imperial studies, a 70-month-old remembering every lesson detail was impressive. Prodigies show it early.
“But Fronto cherishing Marcus doesn’t change. The emperor was a precious student to him.”
“And you, Teacher?”
Leonard asked, face tinged with unease.
Me?
I’d teased enough—time for a real answer.
“Your Highness knows well that Latin was 2nd-century Rome’s premier language. Greek was used in the eastern empire and reviving via literature, but Latin still dominated administration, law, military, politics, and nobility. As I said, Fronto taught Latin rhetoric.”
“Yes.”
“And in his later years, Marcus Aurelius wrote the Jaseongrok in Koine Greek.”
“…….”
I checked if Leonard followed. He just stared up at me.
“So, Teacher... In an era when Latin was standard, studying under a Latin-passionate teacher, Marcus writing his diary in Greek means he hated his teacher?”
Excellent summary, but no—that’s a leap.
I shook my head, smiling softly.
“What do you think I’m saying?”
“…Not sure.”
“I want Your Highness to write your own Jaseongrok—in Latin.”
Leonard gaped up at me. Only after a while did he speak.
“The ‘Jaseongrok.’”
“Yes.”
“You want to leave your influence on all the thoughts passing through my mind?”
Now he got it. Smooth conversation—nice. I didn’t have these with the current Leo. Fresh knowledge lets him rattle on excitedly; later, it becomes obvious to me, so no.
“Not to haunt you forever with my ghost.”
“I get that. You’ll be a better teacher and friend than Fronto was to Marcus Aurelius.”
...I’d beaten around the bush, and he went straight to the point. Odd feeling. I laughed.
“Does my confidence bother you?”
“Of course not.”
Good.
Now that I’d made my intent clear, he wouldn’t sulk if I left.
And separately, this was absurdly funny. Becoming childhood teacher to a friend I’d meet grown-up—unique experience. My words applied to all Leonard I knew, but adult Leo would eye me like, “Who do you think you are?” No weird superior-inferior mental dynamic; equals as friends. So enjoy and tease while it lasts.
“You didn’t catch this cold playing with my uncle, right?”
“No.”
He knew I was probing playfully and answered firmly. But he’d started sniffling right after that day. I shrugged and continued,
“You’re consistent. I said I’d make your Jaseongrok in Latin, but actually, first...”
“Yes.”
Leonard waited eagerly, eyes sparkling.
I hesitated, met his gaze, then looked away.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Just because.”
Leonard shot me the puzzled look 17-year-old Leo often did. Kids hate interruptions too.
Too heavy a topic now; I didn’t want to burden this Leonard either.
That’s how I spent the whole day playing with Leonard—and got stuck until the next. Not wasting time just sitting, on the second day, with his permission, I had the grand duke summoned to the palace. As Emmanuel said, viewing his artifacts might yield info.
The grand duke arrived in the gardens with a box-like bag and greeted Leonard. Emmanuel was absent, hangover from yesterday.
“I greet Crown Prince Leonard Wittelsbach, Your Highness.”
“Nice to see you again.”
“I heard you were unwell— is it okay to be out?”
“Yes, it’s fine.”
Fine my foot.
Truthfully, Leonard needed more rest. I’d tried talking to the grand duke alone while he slept, but he wouldn’t let go.
We spread a mat on the lawn like yesterday, and the grand duke immediately opened the box.
“I brought artifacts. I’m interested in making them my own way too. And Sir Everett expressed interest in my items.”
Circumspect with Leo there—“my own way” meant occult.
“I already heard from Sir Emmanuel. You made an artifact sending a mirror’s reflection to another mirror.”
“Right! My masterpiece from last year.”
“Then you have one this year too...?”
“Yes.”
Impressive in many ways. He nodded firmly and continued.
“To talk about my new masterpiece, I must mention this. Where’d you hear about that lion duchy’s treasure chest Sir Everett mentioned before?”
“Picked it up in America. Could be rumor, but I’d like to find it someday.”
“Curious how that reached America. It was just me and Emmanuel who knew.”
“…….”
Right, it never reached America. I heard it twelve years later at the Hermitishi Gesellschaft.
Chills ran down my spine. That society was his creation. As I stayed silent, the grand duke continued.
“It’s no rumor. That French noble used magic since the 14th century, hid a chest of magic books with spatial magic. I plan an artifact to detect metal hidden by spatial magic. That’ll be this year’s masterpiece.”
“Impressive.”
“Just a concept. Haha. ‘Search’ magic circles only work on divine power—such a hassle. With Sir Everett’s help, I could make it.”
“Hm. Sure. I’ll help if I can.”
Artifacts layered magic circles. No circles or materials? No artifact.
Divine power, like unique abilities, was nearly impossible to embed. Unsure if possible, but he seemed confident, so I agreed.
Listening quietly beside us, Leonard asked,
“Is there an artifact that lets someone use another’s mana?”
“Hm, that’d require... Very advanced. No magic formula exists for using another’s spells. But storing mana and using that amount is basic for any artifact. That’s the principle.”
Watching Leo’s face, the grand duke added,
“But I doubt Your Highness means that. You mean one transplanting another’s core, letting you wield their mana as your own for spells? Nothing like that yet.”
“I see.”
Leonard replied calmly, but undisguised disappointment flickered. The grand duke caught it and smiled.
“Not what you want, but there’s this magic. Guess my unique ability?”
“What is it?”
“Like Your Highness, I manipulate nature. Can make a bit of water anywhere.”
The grand duke traced the air with a finger. Water droplets formed and floated along it. He tilted his head.
“An artifact that makes water—does one exist?”
“…No. No such magic circle, right?”
“Similar ones do. Water creation is unique ability territory, sadly nonexistent yet. But layer storage on existing water, item warp, stabilization—looks like water appearing from air.”
“I see.”
Leonard forced a smile, face saying why the obvious? My impression too. The grand duke, noting our faces, picked up a fallen twig.
“Not done yet. Something to show. Look at this twig.”
He held the thin twig, drew a hexagram on the ground with his wand. Strange sentences like Latin inside. Placed the twig carefully in the center, stood before it, arms raised. His solemn voice rang out.
“Sun. Moon. Wind.”
“…….”
I jabbed my thigh with my wand tip. Dodged the first hurdle naturally. Leonard stared blankly, not grasping it yet.
“Spirits around us. I feel your grace personally. Permit me to return my power to this natural object.”
‘Minus the spirits bit, relatively okay.’
No need for another jab—grateful. As I relaxed, light burst from the hexagram.
‘Hm.’
Making an artifact now? Unbelievable synthesis scene. No proper circles prepared, whatever it was. While I doubted, he handed the twig to Leonard.
“Here, try waving it.”
“Yes.”
Leonard lifted it tensely. Water droplets trailed in the air. His eyes widened.
“…Whoa!”
“Success! This is my developed formula! Get it? Sir Everett, with this I...”
The grand duke’s excited voice with Leonard faded in my ears. Vision blurred except the droplets.
“…….”
Got it.
Two thoughts flashed. First, the story I hadn’t heard the answer to but suspected. Second...
“One moment.”
I had to go back now.
I shot up, headed to the palace building. Found an empty spot, sat, opened the extra chapter.
‘Return.’
The thought hit—vision went black like powering off, then light returned.
My room. Difference from two weeks ago...
Mana lamp on, and I lay on a pile of grass. Instinctive anxiety surged; I jolted up—but something slammed my back.
“…?!”
Vines climbed my arm, tangled with bedsheet plants. Before grasping, stems wrapped my arm, wrist. Mana? No blood flow.
Stem taut at my throat, but I lifted my head to avoid being pinned. No footsteps; room empty.
‘What plant... Trap?’
No need to teach defense. Turned peaceful ability into lethal weapon. Room now a greenhouse.
“Wow.”
Elias’s panicked voice came from behind.