Chapter 76: Will It Be Profitable?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 76: Will It Be Profitable?
Upon arriving in Halim, Burnell stood in the hallway, pacing restlessly with a stack of organized documents clutched in his hands.
He was in the corridor leading to the guest quarters. He knew exactly where his room was and certainly wasn't lost, yet he lingered there, wandering back and forth as if waiting for someone.
"Young Burnell."
A heavy voice called out.
Through the decorative greenery, a head of shimmering hair appeared. It was a mane that had once brought smiles to many, earning its owner the moniker of the 'Solar Mage.'
Normally, the memory would have brought a smile to Burnell’s face, but he couldn't manage one now.
"A-Ah, hello! President, it’s been a long time since the Academy."
"Yes, it has been a while."
"I heard you granted me the main slot. I’m truly grateful for your favor—"
"What is that?"
Bernard cut him off, his eyes dropping to the documents in Burnell’s hand.
"This is the content I’ll be presenting at the conference. I’ve polished it as much as I could, but it’s still a difficult subject, so I was hoping you could review it for me."
"Me?"
"Yes, sir."
"…Give it here."
President Bernard began to flip through the presentation papers rapidly. Under his stern, serious gaze, Burnell’s mouth went bone-dry.
Eventually, Bernard let out a laugh.
Was that laugh a good sign?
"Pathetic."
It wasn't. The sound that escaped his lips was closer to a sneer.
"Marquis Burnell, I cannot hide my disappointment in you."
"W-What do you mean by that?" Burnell asked, struggling to maintain his politeness.
"What do you plan to do with an efficiency of a measly 12%?"
"I am in the process of gradually increasing it."
"And you intend to show that 'possibility' at the presentation just to be laughed at? Are you planning to bring shame to the Regent of Valdrova, the only man who believed in you?"
Burnell stared at him blankly.
This wasn't an application of an existing theory; it was a brand-new creation. Even 12% was a staggering achievement.
President Bernard continued his assault.
"Is there anyone who even understands the formula you’ve derived? Even to my eyes, this is a disorganized mess. You’ve obtained the formula, but your speed in improving efficiency is far too slow. Do you know why I have such confidence?"
"…."
"Burnell, it’s because your vision is too narrow. When you immerse yourself in one thing, you fail to see anything else. Because you’re obsessed with that 1%, you don't know how to raise it by 10%."
Bernard shoved the papers back against Burnell’s chest.
"I’m disappointed. Utterly disappointed. You were better off when you were dreaming hollow dreams. Right now, you are nothing but a 'complete disaster.'"
Bernard turned his back and walked away.
Burnell couldn't say a word; he just stared down at the floor. He remained frozen in that spot for a long time.
* * *
Ferda watched the entire scene from the shadows.
He watched until Bernard insulted Burnell, crushed his spirit, and left.
He thought to himself: Did I have President Bernard all wrong?
Bernard had made a place for Burnell. Giving him the main slot was a massive opportunity for any scholar. Ferda had assumed this was an act of goodwill.
But it didn't look like it. Bernard seemed like a petty bastard who refused to acknowledge Burnell’s growth. The higher the position, the more it hurts to fall—did Bernard intend to destroy Burnell on the big stage?
If that’s the case…
What should I do here?
"Oh, Regent! To think I’d run into you here."
The cheerful voice snapped Ferda out of his thoughts.
The man who had looked like a third-rate villain while being watched in secret now wore the expression of a polite, good-natured gentleman.
"Actually, a merchant named Stephan Pascal came to me to ask how the main event would be handled—"
"Do you truly think he is foolish?"
"Pardon? What do you mean by that?"
When Ferda cut him off with the question, Bernard looked genuinely puzzled.
Ferda answered bluntly. "I happened to overhear your conversation."
Only then did Bernard understand. His face flushed red.
"Dear me… I’ve shown you a side of myself that is quite embarrassing."
Yes, it was certainly a sight to see. Ferda intended to show him exactly what happens when human duplicity is exposed.
"I don't know how it looked to you, but I wasn't trying to do anything malicious to Burnell."
Now it was Ferda who was speechless. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well… Burnell Marquis was a prodigy that we, the elder scholars, had high hopes for. He took the top spot during his Academy days, and everyone agreed that with his brilliant mind, he was a child who would overturn the century."
Everyone knew that, contrary to such praise, his story hadn't had a happy ending.
Bernard let out a sigh.
"But the moment he brought his presentation materials for the conference, everyone was baffled. They were filled with preposterous claims. We tried to dissuade him and steer him in a better direction, but he wouldn't listen. Do you know what happens to nine out of ten people like that? They become madmen consumed by their own ideals."
"But he wasn't a madman."
"No. He succeeded."
"And yet, you think you can convince me with that excuse?"
If Burnell were merely chasing fantasies, Ferda would have understood. In fact, he might have approached Burnell with that same cynical attitude. But Burnell had done it. An achievement that should have taken years appeared in just a few months, and he was already increasing the efficiency.
"That is exactly why I am doing this," Bernard said.
"Is it the job of the President of the Academy to refuse to acknowledge someone even when you know they are right?"
"For people like Burnell, that is exactly what must be done."
"What kind of person is he?"
"The kind who presents innovations that we denied or couldn't even conceive of. People like him must not be allowed to stay within the limits of a mediocre man like me. He shouldn't be researching to convince someone; he must follow what he believes in."
Ferda understood those words.
Bernard was a genius. But Burnell was a genius among geniuses. Therefore, Bernard’s standards for Burnell were no different from the standards of an ordinary man.
"Burnell will do whatever it takes to prove himself through his skills just to spite me. Since he succeeded at something so absurd, he needs to develop it further now. He’ll be preparing to deliver a blow to my ego."
This was a whip for Burnell—a process to draw out the competitive spirit hidden deep within his heart.
"And what if he strays onto the wrong path?"
Just as Ferda himself once had. Ferda swallowed those words.
"Burnell does not choose the cowardly path. He always insists on a frontal breakthrough. He is, after all, a scholar moving toward the absolute truth."
Bernard gave a polite bow.
"Still, if you feel he is heading down the wrong path, please tell him the truth—that I am actually a narrow-minded, petty man who couldn't even acknowledge him to his face. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go prepare."
Bernard passed by Ferda, and Ferda let him go. What would be gained by hounding or scolding him now?
I’m curious.
At the same time, he was curious about the man named Burnell that Bernard had identified. Would he collapse in despair at the lack of acknowledgment, or would he be reborn as Bernard predicted?
Ferda went to find Burnell’s room, acting as if he knew nothing. Perhaps because the shock hadn't worn off, the door wasn't even closed properly, allowing him to step inside.
Burnell was sitting at the table in his quarters. His shoulders were heaving, and his breathing was ragged.
"Fine, damn it… that efficiency… I’ll just raise it myself, alright?"
Though tears were streaming down his face, his hands and his mind did not stop. He was currently revising every single point Bernard had criticized.
"Realistic? Fine, I’ll drag it up to 20% within the next month. Just you watch. Every single one of you who laughed at me… I’ll make you all acknowledge me. Dammit…."
Vengeance was clearly felt in his words and actions. He was using it as fuel to drive his intellect.
That is what revenge is. It makes you forget fatigue and grants you the focus to immerse yourself in a single goal.
The difference between him and me is…
He had chosen the right path, just as Bernard had expected.
Ferda quietly closed the door and stepped back outside.
* * *
"Take that thing off over there. It looks terrible compared to the mock-up. Handle that item carefully!"
Stephan was directing the workers while looking at the interior blueprints.
"Boss, I’ve brought the items. Where should I display them?"
"Good job. Hang that one on the wall over there! You have the bracket, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Check one more time to make sure the bracket is sturdy. This is an important item! My head could be on the line!"
The 'items' were samples of Magic Stones and weapons utilizing them. Just in case, he had also prepared future design plans to present a vision of what was to come.
The object, which featured a long pipe as its main body with complex wires and glass bottles hanging from it, was called a 'Magitech Rifle.'
That’s a weapon?
Stephan had heard from the researchers that it was a high-performance item, but he had never actually seen a demonstration. Would that thing even work?
"Oh my, brother? Fancy meeting you here."
A familiar voice pierced Stephan’s ears.
An unexpected person… though it was actually quite predictable. Since this was an exhibition where all major merchants participated, there was no way the Pascal family wouldn't show up.
Even knowing that, Tilda’s presence was always as awkward and unwelcome to Stephan as a sudden disaster. Stephan found her repulsive.
"Did you come alone?"
"No. Of course I came with my fiancé. He’s right there, isn't he, Henri?"
A man walked toward them with a bright smile. He was a portly, middle-aged man in his mid-thirties. It was Henri Dandolo, the heir to the Dandolo Merchant House, one of the largest in the Empire.
"Tilda, my love. I brought the cocktail you mentioned."
The plump man grinned as he handed her the glass. The relatively petite and slender black-haired beauty stared intently at the glass. She pouted her lips, her eyes turning moist.
"This is a Cherry Bomb, isn't it?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"But I wanted to drink a Blue Sapphire…."
Tilda swayed her shoulders slightly, blinking her eyes. Seeing this, Henri Dandolo laughed sheepishly and nodded.
"Ah, I’m sorry. I’ll go get a new one!"
"Thank you. You really are the only one for me."
"Brother-in-law! Let’s exchange greetings later!"
"Uh, yeah. Sure…."
Tilda smiled. Delighted by that smile, Henri went back to get another cocktail. Stephan scowled as he watched the scene.
"Why are you ordering your fiancé around instead of the servants?"
"Why do you think? Because I can't stand the sight of him."
Tilda gave a venomous laugh. She put on a facade in front of others, but she never did so with Stephan. It meant she looked down on him that much.
"Does he know about that hideous inner nature of yours?"
"Of course not. Where would a man who hasn't even managed to take off my underwear get that kind of insight?"
"He’d certainly love to hear the conversation we just had."
"If you have the guts, go ahead and try."
It was always like this. She acted as if she were above every man, trying to manipulate everyone. It had been that way since they were children. If someone didn't please her, she would dig a pit for them, purging them or leaving deep scars. At first, it was at a cute level, but as she grew older, she became increasingly calculated.
Stephan was afraid of Tilda. Even though he had seen the monster behind that smiling face, he couldn't quite grasp what kind of monster it was.
"Is this the stuff from the Far East that you’re sponsoring, brother?"
Covering her mouth with a fan, she looked up at the Magitech Rifle.
"Yes."
"How cute. To think you’d bring such a thing."
She let out a breath, pretending to examine it closely before sharply turning her head away.
"To me, it looks more like a piece of art."
She was asking if it was even usable.
"Of course it’s usable."
"How does it work?"
"That, well, you pull this here and do this and that… and it works on its own."
As his words trailed off, Tilda’s smile deepened.
"So you’ve never even seen it work."
"…."
"Well, it is an exhibition. If you just hang an unfinished item, no one will know. Actually, wait." She tapped her chin with her index finger, her face full of feigned innocence. "Now that I think about it, isn't there a presentation as well?"
Her eyes said she knew everything. If she knew about the Magic Stones, she obviously knew there was a presentation scheduled for the main event.
"Why did you bring something that’s never been operated? If it explodes in the middle of everything, won't you just be humiliated?"
"I suppose."
"It’s fine for a display, but hmm… I wonder if this will actually be profitable? Just as Father said, the East seems quite useless…."
A smile like a crescent moon hung on her lips. That expression—that was the face she had used to crush him time and time again when he was still with the Pascal family.
"Don't worry, sister."
But today was different. Stephan felt a surge of confidence unlike his usual self.
"While you’re busy grabbing onto a man’s crotch, I’m holding onto my patron’s shoulder."
It was a provocation mixed with rather vulgar words. But the effect was excellent.
Tilda glared at him venomously. Her face seemed to say, How dare someone like Stephan talk back to me? and her hands trembled.
Normally, Stephan would have been intimidated, but not now. He was a sponsor backing the most reliable person possible.
Gosh, she’s still scary, though.
Recalling how she used to strike him without hesitation during their childhood, cold sweat trickled down his back.
"Would you mind moving?"
A voice came from behind her. Her viciously distorted face smoothed out instantly as she turned around.
A man with a tall stature, gray hair, and blue eyes stood there. He wore a uniform of black accented with red. Though young, he exuded an aura far beyond his years.
This is Ferda Valdrova.
His expression was cold and his face looked complex—fitting for the man nicknamed the 'cold-blooded killer' after slaying Thesalos Wolcher. It was more than enough to capture Tilda’s interest.
She smiled brightly and offered an elegant greeting.
"Hello, Regent of Valdrova. I am Tilda Pasca—"
"I have no interest in who you are, so get out of the way."
"P-Pardon?"
He cut her off mid-sentence. The rude behavior was incredibly grating, but Tilda couldn't even bring herself to feel angry. The blue eyes staring at her were so chilling they felt like they could freeze the blood in her veins.
"You’re slow on the uptake. I told you to get out of my sight."