Chapter 38
Chapter 38
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: Academy - [2]
"You bastard, just let me play once?"
Um... What should I say? Denying it would make me even more suspicious, right?
Besides, wasn't it a situation where cursing was fully justified?
I'd bet that if it were Gandhi, he'd grab the collar and slap the cheek with the one remaining straw sandal.
"Cursing, you say."
I stated confidently.
"It's just... my passion to let you hear my music was so intense that my true feelings came out a bit rough."
"Passion?"
"Yes. For a musician, preventing a performance is like taking a staff from a mage. With a piano right in front of me, but not being allowed to play... I couldn't help but burst out in frustration."
A very solemn expression was the key point.
"I apologize for my rudeness. But please take it as a sign of my confidence in my music."
Wait a minute. Isn't reading my mind even more rude...? But I couldn't say that out loud.
The Dean let out a hollow laugh as if it was absurd.
"Excuses flow like clear stream water. I like your guts, though."
He lowered his staff and narrowed his eyes.
"Fine. But I can't just listen without reason. I need to check if you're worth taking my precious time."
"Check?"
"I've devoted my life to pursuing truth. If you're a true artist, you should have insight that pierces through the world."
The Dean stroked his goatee and gave a meaningful smile.
"One question. Depending on your answer, I'll either allow the performance or kick you out right now."
I glanced sideways and saw Serika looking at me with anxious eyes.
This might be the real point.
The Dean slowly opened his mouth.
"The First Tower Lord, the great sage 'Arke,' built an ivory tower over his lifetime with his own hands, then walked out, broke his staff, and headed west. What was the meaning of that?"
"…."
Silence flowed. I could see Serika's mouth agape in confusion.
Thirst for power, nihilism, or wanderlust? Any of those could be answers.
That question... it doesn't have a set answer to begin with.
'But this pattern feels familiar.'
In my previous life, with my interest in Buddhist philosophy, I'd read about Zen koans.
What is the meaning of Bodhidharma coming from the west? What is Buddha?
Answering a question probing essence with something absurd yet hitting the core.
That's the essence of Zen koans.
I gazed indifferently out the window. A single pine tree planted in the academy courtyard swayed in the wind.
"Dean."
I pointed at the window with my finger and answered flatly.
"The pine tree in front of the courtyard."
"Pine tree? What does that mean?"
"Exactly as I said."
He probably understood.
"The meaning of the First Tower Lord leaving, or the pine tree standing there... what's the difference?"
He followed my gaze to the pine tree outside the window.
Branches shaking in the wind. Falling pine cones. A tree simply existing there.
Attributing grand meaning to the First Tower Lord's actions might be the obsession that clouds the essence.
"The pine tree in front of the courtyard..."
The Dean nodded and murmured softly.
"That could indeed be it."
"Did I pass?"
"Pass? Of course! I loved that answer."
The Dean gestured to me with a satisfied expression.
"Good. You're qualified. Let me hear that great music of yours."
I sat on the piano bench. Took a deep breath, looked at the Dean, and said,
"Thank you."
"What's the name of the piece?"
"Life's Carousel. I've read the book you wrote about your life."
"Oh ho... What is it?"
The time to think felt long, but little actual time passed.
Just answer without overthinking.
"It's impossible for a person to live without committing sins."
"…."
"The line between right and wrong isn't fixed; sometimes it's defined by the flow of time."
"What are you trying to say?"
"No one can deny the achievements you've accomplished yourself. That's all."
I began to play.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ A simple rhythm like a heartbeat. And over it, the melody from my right hand began to flow.
A wistful tune. Loneliness and longing hidden in a lively 3/4 waltz rhythm.
A magical melody evoking memories of the past, like a scene from an old film.
The Dean leaned back deeply in his chair and closed his eyes.
As the music flowed, a panorama unfolded in his mind: his past days spinning like a carousel.
The reckless boldness of his passionate youth, charging fearlessly into battlefields.
The thrill of dancing under the moonlight with a beautiful elf woman. Comrades fighting back-to-back on the fierce monster fronts.
And the countless mistakes he'd made throughout his life.
Days where he hurt others and hurt himself.
Records from great battlefields that could be called achievements or massacres depending on the view.
Success and failure. Meetings and partings. Joy and sorrow. All those moments turning round and round to make him who he was now.
The music raced toward its climax.
Fiercely swirling keys. Intense performance expressing life's trials and tribulations like a stormy sea.
Tears welled in the Dean's wrinkled eyes. He didn't open them.
He simply surrendered to the flowing music, caressing the years gone by.
A great mage who dominated an era. And a great mage who symbolized an era's fear.
The music only made him look back on his own life. Yes. That's all.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Ding...
Silence lingered long after the performance ended.
The Dean slowly opened his eyes. He took off his glasses.
He pressed his eyelids as if they felt warm.
"...Good."
He looked at me with deep eyes. There was no arrogance or playfulness in his gaze.
What emanated from his eyes was recognition and the sentiment unique to an old man reminiscing the past.
"You... Aiman, was it?"
"Yes."
"I should give you a gift too. That was good music."
The Dean stood and rummaged through a drawer. He pulled out an old pendant and tossed it to me.
"Take it."
I caught it reflexively.
It was a heavy metal pendant with the academy's crest engraved on the front.
On the back was what looked like the Dean's personal seal.
"With this, at least you won't be ignored in the academy. It'll make getting around easier too. Of course, the farthest you can go is probably the library."
"Can you really give me something this valuable?"
"I'm not giving it; I'm lending it."
The Dean smirked slightly and said,
"Don't worry, I'm not attached to it. You know what I mean."
"…."
"With that, the number of people targeting you will drop sharply. And it's not just because I like you that I'm giving it."
"What do you mean...?"
"Serika. It means I was impressed by the level of magic that child cast too. Better than what I made at that age?"
Serika flinched at the Dean's words. He approached and patted my shoulder lightly.
The Dean patted my shoulder.
"And... come visit often when you're bored. Keep me company. Not many people listen to an old man's ramblings these days."
"...I'll drop by sometimes. Tell me more of those interesting old stories."
"Of course! I have to finish that orc story from earlier, but next time."
Seems like it went well. At least this buys some breathing room...
I could see Serika mouthing something broadly.
Roughly 'Oppa, you're awesome!' with a thumbs-up to boot.
We bowed and left the Dean's office.
"Ah. And you."
The Dean called me as I was closing the door.
"Baron, right?"
"Yes. Honestly, it's not even a proper noble title... an honorary baron."
"Hmm... You might get a viscountcy soon."
"Pardon?"
"You got that from me, didn't you? And your little sister is practically the Tower's heir..."
"It doesn't match, you mean."
"Exactly. That's what I meant. You need to match the level?"
The Dean smiled meaningfully, but it left me a bit uneasy.
'Titles aren't something you hand out at will...'
It couldn't be that easy. Becoming a baron was already a miracle; viscount...?
"Thank you anyway."
"See you again sometime."
I sincerely bowed to the Dean. He waved me off to leave.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Surprisingly, I ran into Rozina not long after.
Her eyes widened as she asked if she really had to call me master now.
I freaked out.