Meeting with the Hero (2)
Seven scrolls in total: one original and six copies. Walter touched each one carefully, then immediately picked out the original handwritten by Jeong-jae himself and lifted it up.
Jeong-jae was sincerely grateful that he hadn't tried to fool Walter. The man had pinpointed the original with unerring accuracy, as if he possessed eyes that could pierce straight through anything.
"The scroll's name... let's see, Manhattan? Manhattan... Feels like I've heard it somewhere before."
Walter scrutinized Jeong-jae's scroll meticulously, adjusting the lens of his monocle closer and farther away like a nearsighted scholar peering through a magnifying glass.
Walter was a genius of his era, with near-expert knowledge across countless fields, but even he couldn't grasp the intricacies of this complex scroll at a glance. In fact, Margaret's ability to divine its essence after just ten minutes of intense staring marked her as an extraordinarily rare case.
"Manhattan... ah, yes, I remember now. A city in old colonial America. I think I saw it in a book left by my ancestor... New York, Manhattan. Right?"
"Old colony? Hardly anyone calls America that these days..."
"Fair enough. There's about a 120-year gap between you and our ancestor—the last hero from your planet."
"At least, from the sound of it, that hero was British."
"British?"
"Britain, England. Take your pick."
"I've read about both. Yes, Simon Harriet. His homeland was definitely that place called England."
That brief exchange about Earth stirred a wave of nostalgia. As Jeong-jae gazed off with a wistful expression, lost in memories of his bewildering yet cherished home planet, Walter—aided by his monocle—roughly deciphered the scroll. He set the magic tome aside and turned to Jeong-jae.
"This thing. Can it only be activated by human power?"
"Huh? Why ask that?"
"Just confirming. Gotta keep all options open..."
Walter trailed off with a subtle hesitation. There was no hard evidence, but Jeong-jae got the distinct impression that Walter wasn't eager to use this scroll—he seemed to fear it.
"From my research, it's flat-out impossible to operate it with anything but a human. No magic device could handle that level of precision. One slip in mana control—even for an instant—and boom, catastrophic failure."
"Yeah, definitely beyond any mana machine."
Walter bit his lip. The hero stared at the scroll a moment longer, then swept them all into his hand with the look of a man who'd made up his mind.
"These are confiscated as of now. Don't expect them back."
It was like watching his research成果 snatched away in broad daylight, but Jeong-jae couldn't muster a single objection. He'd only heard Walter's heartfelt plea for him to live, and that glimpse of the future Walter had seen gnawed at him.
Walter H. Hellhound sometimes came off as committing inexplicable eccentricities beyond normal comprehension, but that was because he saw things no one else could.
Whatever the case, Walter H. Hellhound is right. Once you internalized that truth, even his more absurd decisions became easy to swallow.
But Walter's next words hit even mindset-equipped Jeong-jae like a thunderbolt.
"Oh, and you're fired, Park Jeong-jae."
"Got it. Research confiscated and fired—I've really hit rock bottom."
But a split second later, Jeong-jae's eyes flew wide, and he shot up from his seat.
"What? I'm fired?"
"You heard me right. Fired. From this school. From our party. Pack your things and get ready to go."
"Hold on—why go that far?"
He didn't voice it, but the thought crossed his mind: If you're so worried I'll off myself, wouldn't it make more sense to keep me close and watch me?
Of course, Jeong-jae wasn't some lunatic or depressive. He wasn't about to turn up hanged out of nowhere like the childhood friend in one of those fake dating sim horror games that had been all the rage once.
But... getting the scrolls confiscated and booted from the party just like that? Wasn't it too sudden?
Jeong-jae fixed Walter with an intense, demanding stare, but Walter just kept the monocle perched on his face and dodged his eyes.
"I've decided it's for the best."
"What kind of 'best' is that? You think I can't fight anymore? Or you're labeling me a dangerous maniac who'll cause an even bigger mess if left unchecked?"
"And if I did, could you even argue? After pulling this stunt, how can I trust you won't go off on some reckless suicide charge based on your own whims?"
"I only considered extreme measures because they promised extreme results!"
"That's your subjective call! And now I can't trust your judgment anymore."
Walter's excuse rang hollow, but Jeong-jae caught the tremor in his eyes—he was hiding something deep.
Yeah. He was the hero. The type who shouldered every burden, no matter what.
For a man like that to suddenly cut Jeong-jae loose. And trot out the ridiculous excuse that he could no longer trust Jeong-jae's judgment.
This from the guy who'd just recently advised on the battlefield, You're going to have to make a lot more tough calls ahead—now kicking him from the party and the school.
No way it was just to stop his research.
"Not gonna say, huh."
"Sorry."
Walter muttered that single word and bowed his head. He left Jeong-jae not a single clue to guess his reasons.
As the initial shock ebbed, Jeong-jae slowly started accepting reality. This was just another of Walter's quirks. But experience had taught him well: there was always a damn good reason behind them.
"Fine. I accept. How long do I have to clear out the dorm?"
"Not much there, right? Mostly library books anyway. Pack up and be out by tonight."
"Pack and go where? You said I'm out of the party, so you're not shipping me back to the front lines."
"Crash at the Magic Tower for a few days. They won't turn you away. After that, I'll line up a place for you."
If Walter had answered that question with Do whatever you want, it'd have been true banishment. The kind where you're cut off completely, free to do whatever since you mean nothing anymore.
But this confirmed Walter still planned to meddle in Jeong-jae's life. Specifically dictating housing? That screamed he wanted tabs on his whereabouts when needed.
"Got it. But what do you tell the others? Got something convincing?"
"Rose and Bernard will buy it if I say so."
Walter replied, removing his monocle. The thing boosted brainpower just by wearing it, but at a heavy fatigue cost.
"Not so sure about convincing Margaret?"
"Margaret's always tricky. Firing you? Even more so. Yeah, especially since it's about you."
Jeong-jae didn't quite follow.
"Well, she might gripe a bit, but if it's from you? And not knowing why would just annoy her..."
"You're not just selfish—you're an idiot too. And that obliviousness? borderline criminal. Listen, moron: the reason doesn't matter. Telling Princess Margaret you're out of the party—that's the hard part."
"Oblivious?"
Jeong-jae scratched his head. That was the kind of line thrown at romcom protagonists too dense to spot the heroine crushing on them.
So clichéd, he could picture the absurd scenario that perfectly fit the moment.
"You're talking like Margaret actually likes me or something."
"God, you're exhausting. If you can't get a hint, maybe just stay clueless forever? Eh?"
Walter shot to his feet. Jeong-jae blinked furiously, hit with as much shock as the firing notice itself.
"Hey, wait—does this world even have April Fools? Never heard of it."
"April Fools? The hell's that?"
"The one day a year you get a pass to lie your ass off and fool people. That it? The firing, all of it—an April Fools prank, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker?"
"I get the gist, but hell no. Pack your damn bags. And the fact you're questioning this but doubting the firing only when I spill Margaret's feelings for you? Makes me pity her all over again."
What? Really?
Jeong-jae stared blankly as the hero who'd just canned him strode out of the lounge.
Walter was rarely wrong. But could he be... this time?
Why call him oblivious?
By any common-sense measure, if Jeong-jae started thinking Oh, this girl likes me about Margaret, he'd be the delusional axe-murderer type.
Margaret hated mages. Hated axes. Both wrecked forests.
"No clue. What was he even getting at?"
Jeong-jae had never once considered himself oblivious. Sure, he reined himself in to avoid stupid misconceptions, but with Margaret? He'd never even needed to—she'd given zero vibes of affection.
"A true ultimate tsundere, maybe..."
If so, that was high-difficulty from the jump. Weren't tsunderes supposed to slip up with over-the-top barbs that screamed like?
Jeong-jae, pushing late twenties among the young crowd, wasn't from some ancient era clueless about tsunderes. Hell, he could name a few favorites.
If even he hadn't clocked it, Margaret was a poker-face master—prime material for pro gambler.
She'd never acted specially shy or lovey around him. Nor excessively prickly, either.
Her demeanor toward him? Strictly spot-on advice and encouragement. Yeah, the advice could bite sometimes, but to Jeong-jae, it felt more sharp and strict than tsun—no romantic sparks there.
So up till now, zero clues to infer those feelings...
Ah, but maybe there was one.
Just yesterday, showing her the scroll and asking for cooperation. Margaret's tears bursting out. That tone, whining how cruel it was for him of all people to pull this.
Looking back, it was the first time he'd seen her womanly vulnerability.
And shedding tears at the thought of his possible death? Despite all the massacres she'd witnessed stone-faced? That was the kind of reaction only a girl harboring feelings could muster.
"And those pieces of advice and encouragement themselves..."
The endless pointers and pep talks from a Margaret who wore her mage-hate on her sleeve. Weren't those signs of interest above and beyond, in her own way?
Was Walter sharp enough to pick up on those subtle currents?
For the first time—just a little—Jeong-jae wondered if Margaret might actually like him.
Not that all doubts were erased. Not yet.