Chapter 37
Chapter 37
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Imperial Academy - [1]
As we stepped out of the cave, the sunlight pouring down was blinding. A hazy sensation, like it was all a dream...
Of course, the searing heat clutched in my right hand proved beyond doubt that this was no dream.
"So... let's try to sort this out."
Serika glanced back and forth between the red gem in my hand and my face, swallowing hard.
"You met the ancient dragon's lingering will inside, had a conversation with it, and this is the gift it gave you? And that ancient dragon bet on you reviving the goddess...?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"What the hell."
Of course, I'd shared with Serika everything I'd gone through.
That's what family is for, right—sharing stories like this.
Naturally, I left out the part about the mana curse.
If I told her that, she might faint or try to lock me in the infirmary.
"No way..."
Serika muttered in a daze.
Her expression screamed that she wanted to deny it, but the evidence in my hand made that impossible.
"...Wanna touch it?"
At my words, Serika hesitantly extended her hand toward the gem.
Her fingertips trembled violently.
"Eek?!"
She yanked her hand back like she'd been shocked.
"Holy shit."
"...How strong is it?"
Serika said, "Just a sec," and blinked her right eye.
Peering through that signature pupil of hers, she recoiled in shock once more.
"Off the charts. This thing... it's way too dangerous."
Serika glanced around before snapping her fingers urgently.
Woooong—!
A transparent barrier enveloped us.
She called it a mana-blocking veil—the one that had earned her the title of Tower Lord candidate.
A spell she'd created herself, with the help of her Golden Eye.
"Anyone who sees this would lose their minds..."
Serika bit her lip, breaking out in a cold sweat.
"Never, ever show it to anyone. Got it? You wouldn't have ten lives to spare. I'll throw up a protective shield for now, but..."
We had these exchanges on the carriage ride back.
The excited buzz from the trip there was gone, replaced by a heavy silence.
Serika gnawed at her nails with a grave look.
"Bro."
After a long pause, she finally spoke.
"Hear me out, cold and clear."
"Yeah."
"To mages, that's the kind of thing they'd sell their soul for... hell, even that wouldn't get it."
Serika's eyes were terrifying.
"I'm your sister, so I'll protect you. But other mages? The second they know it's in your hands, they'll stop at nothing to take it. The politest approach would probably be bribery."
We're properly fucked.
"Serika."
"Yeah."
"I've thought about it seriously—what if we just chuck it in the gutter?"
"Might be the better option..."
"Or maybe there's someone who wouldn't give a damn about something like this."
I figured it sounded ridiculous even as I said it, but surprisingly, Serika seemed to mull it over earnestly.
"There is one person."
"There is?"
"Yeah. Probably... just one in the whole world."
Serika let out a deep sigh. She pondered for a moment, then lifted her head as if she'd made up her mind.
She explained, folding her fingers one by one.
"You've got a baron's title now. Impressive, sure, but to high nobles or the old fogeys in the Mage Tower, you're just a lucky commoner. Easy prey—no backlash if they mess with you."
"True enough."
"So, you need to either become so famous no one dares touch you, or snag a massive backer they can't afford to cross."
"And the person you're mentioning is that kind of figure, huh, Serika?"
Serika nodded.
"The dean of the academy."
The dean, huh...
"Head of the Imperial Academy, a grand mage on par with the current Tower Lord. And... a notorious eccentric."
Serika sighed again.
"The dean's obsessed with bets and gambles. And he's starving for fresh thrills. Satisfy him, bro, and he'll be your unbreakable backer."
Serika wouldn't bring it up lightly.
"Meaning we can do it without magic. Just by entertaining him."
"The dean chases fun over magic. Amuse the old man, and you're golden—no spells required."
Amuse him...
"You know why the lion never does his homework?"
Serika thought it over.
"A riddle showdown, huh... Like a Zen koan. Might work, but even if you're smart, the dean's way better at that stuff..."
"Nah, not that."
"Then?"
"The lion doesn't do homework because he's the king of the jungle. Funny, right?"
Serika gave me the coldest stare.
Tsk... I thought I was good at this stuff, but guess not. ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ A week later. Imperial Academy, main building, top floor. Dean's office.
(Getting into the academy was surprisingly easy. No guards, like a university back on Earth—you could just stroll in!)
I stood there in a crisp suit. Serika was beside me, looking resolute.
"Ready?"
"Kinda nervous."
"You'll be fine. Just be yourself."
Serika knocked and opened the door.
"Pardon the intrusion."
With a "come in," we entered. The dean's office was a total disaster zone.
Piles of books everywhere, magic tools scattered about, unidentifiable lab equipment crammed in every corner.
In the middle of that junkyard(?) sat an old man with a wild mane of white hair.
A crusty face. Piercing eyes. Long beard twisted down to his chin.
The classic grumpy old-timer vibe.
"You're here."
The dean didn't even look up from his papers.
"Serika, was it? The hotshot prodigy from the Mage Tower lately?"
"Yes, Dean. Thank you for making time."
Serika bowed politely.
"I've brought my brother to introduce. You've probably heard of him—Aiman the Baron."
"Aiman?"
Only then did the dean raise his head. His eyes scanned me through his glasses.
"Hmmm..."
He clicked his tongue.
"You look scrawny as hell."
Starting with the burns right off the bat. How do I even respond to that?
"I'm Aiman. It's an honor to meet you, the greatest genius in history..."
I tried laying on the flattery thick, but the dean cut me off.
"Genius? Hmph. Kids these days call anyone a genius. Dime a dozen."
He snorted derisively.
"Back in my day, you had to invent your own circle to earn that title! No guts these youngsters—no challenge, no glory!"
He thumped his staff on the floor.
"Coddled like flowers in a greenhouse. Fail one spell and they whine to professors for grade bumps! Huh? That's a mage? Still suckling at the teat!"
Why's he raging at me?
"Um... Dean?"
Serika tried to interject, but the dean's runaway train kept chugging.
"When I was your age, I dueled a sphinx in a riddle contest!"
He launched into his glory days, all fired up.
Tales of drinking dwarves under the table, clashing with demons, even his flirty youth with the elf next door.
'What am I supposed to do with this...'
No clue why he's dumping this on me.
Just a lonely grandpa needing someone to chat with, like at the local senior center.
Serika was facepalming beside me. Clearly not what she expected.
10 minutes, 20... time dragged on.
'Guess I'll just play the piano.'
Something's gotta give. I decided to act boldly.
I signaled Serika, who sighed and summoned the prepared piano to a corner of the office with spatial magic (another of her inventions—Golden Eye is OP!).
Thud.
The sudden piano drew the dean's eyes.
"What's that? Furniture?"
"A piano."
I sat at the bench.
"Figured it'd be better to show than tell."
"Interrupting me to play?"
Far from annoyed, he looked intrigued.
'What to play...'
Old guy. Nostalgic storyteller type.
Nothing too complex or loud.
Something to stir his soul, evoke fond memories.
The piece that popped into my head. One I'd heard countless times in my past life.
[Merry-Go-Round of Life]
A melody capturing life's ups and downs, like an endless carousel.
'...This it is.'
I placed my hands on the keys with a determined look, took a breath, and was about to hit the first note.
"Hold it!!"
The dean flipped out.
"No manners! Interrupting an elder? Where was I?"
"...You'd just done a drinking game with a dwarf."
"Right! That was the warmup. The real story's from 50 years ago on the western front—I arm-wrestled an orc blacksmith!"
I lowered my hands again.
"That orc swung a 5-ton hammer, but I blocked it one-handed while...!"
Hammers in an arm-wrestling match? No idea.
Anyway, he was spittle-flying into his tale, eyes sparkling.
Clearly thrilled to have an audience for his exploits after so long.
Long story short, his ramble looped from orcs to elves, dwarves, demons, and back to orcs infinitely.
'...'
Maybe this old man doesn't just love bets—he loves using them as excuses to yap.
That's the vibe I got. ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ About two hours later, the dean's tale finally wrapped up.
He looked invigorated as he turned to me.
"So, what story did you come to tell?"
"Before that... could you hear my piano piece?"
"Nah, I like cutting to the chase. Fire away."
Ha ha. Loves the main point, yet yapped in a two-hour loop.
"Please, just once. They say you love music. I prepared it with you in mind."
"Really necessary?"
For a split second, I nearly snapped, 'You bastard, just listen once.'
"You bastard, just listen once?"
The dean echoed it like he'd read my mind.
Oh crap. I'm screwed.