Genius Mage (2)
The Mage Association.
Among the countless associations that had sprung up across South Korea like mushrooms after the Tower's appearance, this was one of the few that actually did its job. Most of them would have been more accurately called guilds, but still.
As for why so many of these organizations had proliferated in the first place, the reason was simple. In the early days after the Tower appeared, the government had thrown every possible benefit at Awakeners to keep them from leaving the country. Naturally, the subsidies and perks that fell to anyone who founded an association were extremely lucrative.
Our Maestro, never one to miss a free honey pot, had promptly established the Mage Association and installed himself as its first president.
What a remarkable man.
I should have applauded him to his face back then. Looking back, it was a real shame I hadn't. I never dreamed he had been pulling that kind of stunt behind the scenes. After Awakening, I had simply assumed he was always out and about because he was busy clearing the Tower.
Of course, true to form, he had lost interest after a month or two of half-hearted effort and abandoned the whole thing. Even so, it was still the organization founded by Korea's only S-class Awakener and a world-ranked mage. Thanks to that, a fair number of people worth calling talent had gathered there. Even after the Maestro used Tower clearing as an excuse to vanish, there were more than enough people to fill the vacancy.
Which was why the current president was Baek Siyeon, an A-class Awakener known as the Wind Witch. The problem was that she, too, was an Awakener, so the actual day-to-day management fell to the ordinary civilian staff under her. How much could a non-Awakener really understand about an Awakener's life? As a result, the Mage Association today was nothing more and nothing less than a marketplace for buying and selling Magic Formulas.
If there was one upside to this state of affairs, it was that every employee at the Association had a pure civil-servant mindset. They did not care in the slightest who came in to buy Magic Formulas. After all, only mages could properly use the things, so the Association had no real reason to stop ordinary people from purchasing them. They were content to simply empty the pockets of the idiots who showed up out of curiosity or empty hope.
Perhaps for that reason, a large sign hung in front of the Magic Formula purchase window:
NO EXCHANGES OR REFUNDS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES
Well, that works out fine for me.
Thanks to that, I did not need to wear the Demon Emperor Mask. A child spending a large sum of money might raise an eyebrow or two, but most people would simply write it off as the whim of some rich family's daughter. In fact, walking into the home base of mages while deliberately wearing a distortion spell just to buy Magic Formulas would have looked far more suspicious.
So act like you belong.
Hesitating only invited doubt that was not there to begin with.
Still, there are a lot of people here today.
This place was usually quiet, yet today a considerable crowd had set up camp in the lobby.
Were there really this many mages in Korea?
The future of the Republic of Korea might be brighter than I thought.
"Welcome."
As I approached the window, lost in idle thoughts, an employee greeted me in a flat, lifeless voice.
"Hello."
"Are you here to purchase Magic Formulas?"
"Yes."
When I nodded, I felt the employee's gaze sweep over me once.
"…Exchanges and refunds due to simple change of mind are not possible."
"I know."
The sudden disclaimer made sense once I thought about it. I looked like a child, so some last scrap of conscience must have kicked in. But when I nodded with bright, sparkling eyes, the employee did not press the matter further.
"Is there a particular Magic Formula you are looking for?"
"Could I look at the catalog first?"
I already had a rough idea of what I wanted, but I needed to check whether any useful new formulas had come in. Magic Formulas, much like smartphones, were constantly being refined and lightened, so the performance gap between older and latest models could be considerable.
"Here you are."
Without further comment, the employee brought up the catalog on the monitor and turned the screen toward me.
"Thank you."
I began carefully examining the formulas on the list.
Oh? They've improved quite a bit.
The first-tier spells in particular had advanced impressively. The critical sections were all mosaicked out—probably to stop people like me who could fully master a formula just by glancing at it once—but even the overall framework was enough to show how far things had come.
I should replace a few of mine with the latest versions.
A shorter casting time for Magic Formulas meant more spells I could actually use in real combat.
After finishing my scan of the catalog, I carefully spoke up.
"I'll take Magic Arrow, Defense, Hardening, Acceleration, Super Acceleration, and Lightning Spear."
"Yes. First-tier Magic Arrow and Defense, second-tier Hardening and Acceleration, and fourth-tier Super Acceleration and Lightning Spear, correct?"
"Yesh."
I stretched the ending without meaning to. The moment I let my guard down even a little, that childish lisp slipped out. Was my mental age dropping to match this younger body? I needed to be careful.
"I'll assist you with payment. First-tier Magic Formulas are one million won each, second-tier three million, fourth-tier five million. That comes to a total of eighteen million won."
The employee continued without the slightest concern. The prices of Magic Formulas were enough to make anyone's tongue hang out. For what amounted to receiving a triple- or quadruple-encrypted digital file scrap, it felt almost criminal. Not that I had ever expected the romantic touch of printing them on fancy parchment or anything.
How was this any different from those NFTs that had been all the rage for a while? Early on, the place had been crawling with people trying to make a quick fortune off them, and this industry was no different.
The total not landing on a round number is weirdly unsatisfying.
Since I was already here, I might as well buy one more formula.
"Ah, sorry—please add Shape Manipulation as well."
"Yes. Second-tier Shape Manipulation for two million won brings the total to twenty million won."
Twenty million won all told. I was essentially handing the Association every last won I had made selling one of the Orc Warrior series, but if I thought of it as an investment in the future, it was fine.
"We offer installment plans of up to twenty-four months."
"I'll pay in full."
I held out my card.
"Yes, I'll process the full payment for you."
Beep.
My account balance was more than sufficient, so the payment went through without issue.
"Payment complete. The Magic Formulas you purchased will be sent to your email within one to two days."
"Yesh."
Ah, the ending stretched out again. I had been conscious of it, and it still slipped out on its own.
In any case, that finished my business at the Mage Association. All that remained was to go home, wait quietly, and stuff the formulas into my head the moment they arrived by email.
…It'll work, right?
Back when my trait had been Genius Mage, a single glance had been enough to burn a formula into my mind. I could not be sure it would still work that way. My trait had changed to Heavenly Demon, after all. Preparing myself for the fact that things would definitely be different seemed like the best way to soften the shock later.
As I turned to leave the Association, the entrance area was strangely noisy.
Someone showed up?
My instincts were not good. An unpleasant feeling prickled at me.
Nah, no way.
That bastard was always so busy—or rather, always pretending to be busy. What were the odds I would run into him here of all places, on this of all days?
Right. That kind of thing doesn't happen.
And even if we did meet, there was no chance he would recognize me. With a light heart I walked toward the main doors—and in that moment I understood why the lobby had been so crowded today.
They were all reporters?
A pack of journalists, brandishing massive cameras of unknown origin, were frantically firing flash after flash at a single man standing in front of the doors. And if the reporters were here…
Ah, shit.
He was actually here. My mood soured instantly. Of all the faces I could have run into, it had to be that one. I had bought new Magic Formulas, made some money, and been in a good mood for the past few days—only for it all to crash straight into the floor.
Hair bleached a garish yellow without a single drop of foreign blood in his veins, as if he had no idea how precious hair was. A face that fit the word "pretty-boy parasite" so perfectly it was nauseating. A man whose very existence was an irritation.
Maestro.
What wind had blown that man, who spent every day out playing, all the way to the Association in person?
Whatever. Not my problem.
If I kept staring, nothing but crude curses would come out of my mouth. Best to leave while I still could. You don't avoid shit because you're scared of it—you avoid it because it's filthy.
I tried to pass by naturally.
My eyes met the Maestro's.
What? The bad feeling suddenly intensified.
"I'm afraid that will be all for interviews. After all, a fan who came all this way to see me is precious too."
The Maestro looked my way and smiled.
No way?
Please say no. But a bad premonition had never once been wrong. By the time I came to my senses, the Maestro was already standing right in front of me.
Oh, for heaven's sake.
"Little lady, what's your name?"
Little lady? I barely managed to swallow the parental insult that had risen all the way to my throat. Throwing that kind of language at this bastard would only splash damage back onto me.
Son of a bitch.
How had our parents ever chosen a child like him? No—calm down. No matter how much of a bastard he was, I could not blame our parents. Who could have guessed that once he grew a little older he would turn into this sociopath? Everyone looks like an angel when they're little. You only find out later that a little demon was sleeping inside.
"…Not."
I opened my mouth without hesitation.
"Hm?"
The Maestro tilted his head. Had he not heard me? Then I would enunciate every single syllable with force.
"I'm not your fan."
"Ah?"
"I said, I'm not your fan."
I kindly repeated myself. Was the young man already going deaf?
"Uh. Um."
Click!
Someone fired a flash at the guy who was too flustered to form a proper sentence.