Chapter 11: Career Experience Fair
Jobs have no caste, but preferences for certain professions reflect the era. There are worlds where doctors and judges are treated as the pinnacle of expertise, and others where a military magic engineer is seen as the ultimate life-reversal jackpot, rivaling even royalty.
These were the occupations commonly held by those with wealth, honor, and social influence in the public eye. Doctors and judges could amass more riches than most other fields, with prestige to match. Military magic engineers went without saying.
If you asked what the top job was in this world, nine out of ten would say: theoretical magic scholar.
In fact, theoretical magic scholars existed even in my previous life, but their quirky vibe, heavy workload, and meager pay kept them unpopular. Things were entirely different here.
Digging deep into the reason, it all boiled down to mana.
Unlike my past life, mana here existed in a probabilistic superposition—everywhere and nowhere. Not the clearest explanation, but think of it as borrowing from another dimension.
They called realms where mana existed "Idea," and to cast magic here, you had to go through a process of accessing it. Efficiency naturally suffered in that step.
Theoretical magic scholars were the ones working to boost that efficiency. In short, they were where the money pooled.
Factories needed mana to run, weapons needed it to operate. Mana boasted overwhelming efficiency compared to electricity, becoming indispensable in modern industry. Boost it by even 1%—no, 0.1%—and billionaires lined up to pay.
"Everyone, make sure to hold your partner's hand so you don't get separated. Got it?"
"Yes!!"
At the end of August, Arabyeol Elementary held its Career Experience Fair trip for lower graders—about 500 students from first to third grade piling on and off buses. Being in Seoul, the commute was short.
"Where should we start?"
"Anywhere... cool..."
Arin had already declared she'd try every job at least once. I couldn't say I had zero interest—that'd be a lie—but the sweltering heat drained me anyway.
So we headed to the nearest spot: Hall 2.
"Looks like you can learn cooking there! Does Nami like cooking?"
"Not really."
I could survive on mana potions alone anyway. And the queasy feeling from eating too much made food unappealing. Even in my past life, meals were a reluctant necessity due to poisoning risks—this life was no different.
"Hmm... then where... you definitely hate sports..."
A horde of boys rushed to challenge an AI goalkeeper to penalty kicks. A beautiful curving shot hooked toward the post's edge, but the robot keeper leaped straight up and smacked it away mercilessly.
"Too crowded there... Guess everyone's checking out that famous Twitch streamer today. Nami doesn't care about that stuff, right?"
"Let's go somewhere with fewer people."
"Okay, I'll look!"
InSert Catch-Up Challenge! - Letterbox
Dozens of kids clustered in line at the booth. Unlike AR setups elsewhere, this one hauled in full VR capsules for proper virtual reality content. Corporate muscle at work.
"You're good at magic, so how about the mage experience?"
There was no "mage" profession. Like calling a researcher an "engineer."
Better than soccer, at least.
The moment I showed a flicker of interest, Arin bolted that way.
"Hey, kids! We need two for the magic circle drawing experience?"
Twentysomethings greeted us with warm smiles. Robes suggested a university club running a practice program.
"Yes!"
"Sit here then—chairs are high, so careful!"
We settled safely, each getting a stone slate.
A college girl sat opposite with an identical slate.
"Hi, what's your name?"
"I'm Arin. This is Nami."
"Nice to meet you, Arin and Nami! I'm Dayeon. Today, we're making Light magic!"
The first spell beginners learned—like printing "Hello World!" in programming.
Reasons like "foundation of magic" aside, it was just the easiest.
"But plain Light is boring, right? So we'll make mini fireworks!"
"Wow! Can I pick the colors?"
"Of course! Touch the slate first?"
Modern slate tech. Old ones used marble; this was synthetic alloy. Cool sensation climbed my fingers.
"Know the five steps of magic?"
"No! Tell us!"
"Record—Infuse—Activate—Store—Cast. Or simplify to Write—Store—Cast, but we'll do all five today. Follow me?"
Arin chanted the steps in sync with her.
"Want Nami to try?"
"Nami's a genius—she already knows."
"Oh, really~?"
Dayeon ignored me after, focusing one-on-one with Arin. No point arguing if a ten-year age gap made a smarter kid seem cocky. To college eyes, we looked the same.
Matching her enthusiasm was tedious anyway—if she thought that, it worked for me.
"Cast: Light! Wow, it worked—look, Nami!"
Yellow and white sparks burst in concentric circles over my head. Aside from Dayeon's infusion help, Arin did it herself. Colors even matched our name initials—not coincidence.
Proud sense of achievement lit her face.
"Hehe, pretty, right? Your turn, Nami."
She tugged my arm. Weak to kid cuteness.
I'd glimpsed Dayeon's explanation, grasped the principle. Identical to what I knew, save the unique "Store" step.
They split Activate and Cast due to "Store." More "link" than storage, but evoked subspatial saving—hence the name.
Even perfect circles didn't trigger magic naturally here. Needed reversible conversion from irreversible. Inconvenient, laborious, inefficient—but safer. No mass ice missile spam from copied drawings.
Light guzzled mana; simpler it was.
I drew an asymmetric arc on the slate, etched the arabesque transmutation formula I'd taught Arin, filled rune numbers for color, rotation, coefficients, and order around operators.
A puff of mana, and the arc spun around vertical, morphing to a 3D heart. Innards flushed red, it floated up to Arin.
"Cast: ...I love you?"
It exploded into dozens of mini-heart fireworks.
Even if we parted someday, I'd gift her an unforgettable memory.
"I'm no angel."
"But... who else shares bread daily with us brothers in this hellhole if not an angel?"
"You hate from starvation, disease, losing family to war. That's me."
"You're leaving?"
"The hero comes soon. Merciful hero will care for you."
"Don't go."
"I must."
"Come back then."
"Can't promise. But I'll give you this. More precious than bread. In our world, we call it mercy and hope."
Used slates couldn't recycle. Mana circuits needed purification to reuse; otherwise, just separate waste.
Korea University Physics & Astronomy, Theoretical Physics major Woo Dayeon recalled the morning kid.
"Phew, last day done. Dayeon! Dinner tonight, right?"
"...Huh? Sorry, missed that—what?"
"You coming to dinner? You love booze—skipping?"
"No, of course."
"What's that slate? Still holding it? Trash truck's leaving soon. Forget, and you'll lug it home."
Clubmate Subin remembered last year hauling ten slates to dinner after forgetting.
"Just... geniuses exist."
"Our top student saying that? What does that make us?"
"Wanna see? Arabyeol kids today."
Subin cradled the 1kg slate.
"Rotation matrix? That baldy prof in freshman year—nostalgia. What's this?"
"Special form of Baker-Campbell-Hausdorff."
"Bacon what?"
"Believe a first-grader did this solo?"
"..."
"..."
"Quit kidding! Not falling for that. A first-grader...? For real?"
"Yeah."
"Whoa! Can I check?"
Name was Nami, right? Odd kid. Tiny enough for kindergarten, cute. Waist-length black hair in low twintails, swaying wildly as she walked.
Pale-faced, frowning glare at arrival—bratty, I'd thought. Now realized just fierce impression from her sharp eyes.
"Damn. Solved everything with Jacobian matrices—formula's short. Way more complex than it looks."
Subin was right. But Dayeon's shock peaked at the cast.
She solved it without preset incantation.
Variables set during recording, fixed by naming at value assignment for proper activation.
Why preset? Simplifies. Like x in linear equations. Adults skip as mental math suffices after adds/multiplies.
But variable-free on headache-inducing formulas? Impossible. Meant backfilling runes at cast utterance.
Solving then slapping variables—genius absurdity. If easy, magic duels would fire hot fire-arrows on "Ice Arrow!" yells.
Outworld prodigies. Dayeon admitted her smarts outpaced peers—effort alone wouldn't reach here; denial was self-deceit.
But department top, high school prez never missing #1—some forbade comparison.
Comparing just breeds misery. Only self drives progress.
Dayeon shoved thoughts aside for fun club dinner.
"Dayeon! Take this! You showed me to dump it on me! Hey!!!"