The Grand Archmage's Treatment (2)
Life in the Magic Tower felt a little uncomfortable to Park Jeong-jae. Of course, there were hardly any places in "this world" where he felt truly at home yet, but the Tower had a different kind of unease. The facilities themselves were a bit worn but actually better than university dorms. With all sorts of convenient devices, the bathrooms and sinks could even hold their own against modern Earth standards in many ways.
But something about the overall air, the atmosphere—it rubbed him the wrong way. It was like being a civilian who wandered into the Pentagon's underground bunker and had to mingle with four-star generals: total alienation and discomfort.
One mage had told him that the Tower wasn't always like this in peacetime. But by the time Jeong-jae had crossed into this world, the Great Demon War was already escalating into full crisis. There was no way to know what the "original" Magic Tower atmosphere was really like.
"Uwaaaaaah!"
As usual, a refreshing scream greeted him the moment he woke up that morning. Back when he'd first arrived in this world, he'd been creeped out, wondering if they dragged criminals or slaves here for human experiments. Fortunately, he'd learned that slavery was illegal in the Audrich Empire, and using criminals for such purposes was forbidden too. So that sizzling electric crackle and scream? Probably just some mage researching lightning magic and accidentally frying his own hair.
"Lost my job~ lost my home~ what the hell am I gonna do to eat~"
Whatever. He'd gotten used to the occasional explosions and screams echoing from every direction now. Jeong-jae washed his face with cold water, listening to the fiery wails from the mage next door who seemed to be tinkering with electric magic. If only I could cast a soundproof spell, he thought, but regulations forbade it.
There were two big reasons soundproofing was banned in the Tower dorms. First, too many mages abused barriers to set up creative traps in their rooms, so all barrier magic was outright prohibited. Soundproofing was a type of barrier, so no complaining there. They could allow limited soundproofing for privacy, but even that was tricky—during wartime emergencies, when assembly alarms blared, mages snoozing behind heavy barriers had missed them before. So, no dice.
Whatever. You'd get used to it eventually. You had to.
"Kyaaaaah! I'm getting shocked!"
"Read the damn manual! Read it first, then research! If you read before experimenting, this shit wouldn't happen! Why do you always just dive right in?!"
Jeong-jae suddenly lost his temper and yelled at the wall toward the next room. The neighbor fired back without missing a beat.
"Yeah, it'd be great if my brain worked that way just from reading!"
This was the second reason Jeong-jae never quite blended into the Tower's vibe. Most mages—especially those elite enough to live here—harbored some jealousy and envy toward Park Jeong-jae, the genius who'd dropped out of nowhere into their world. Luckily, the guy seemed embarrassed after shouting back; no more screams or zaps followed. Jeong-jae finished washing up and stepped out into the hall unscathed.
Jealousy wasn't wrong. These were people who'd devoted years—decades, even—to this field. At least ten years minimum, up to sixty or more for some. And not a single one outdid Jeong-jae. Hell, no one even came close. In a way, how unfair was that?
"Even so, I don't wanna live my life making them conscious of it..."
At least the Tower had given him a personal research lab, which was a relief. These obsessive researchers experimented with electric magic even in their dorms; libraries and offices were full of weirdos pulling bizarre stunts. He could still feel that gross sticky trap he'd accidentally stepped on in the library two days ago clinging to his foot.
"Never felt anything like this back at university..."
Of course, the Imperial Magic Academy—run by the Empire, not the Tower—cracked down hard on such nonsense. You'd get disciplined or expelled, and worse, lose points on your grades. No one risked that. Students feared flunking assignments more than expulsion; a zero was permanent, while you could always finagle your way back in somehow.
Still, wasn't it weird how those same meek, future-promising kids turned into total delinquents the second they graduated? Maybe the Magic Tower wasn't a job—it was this world's graduate school. That would explain how even the mild-mannered turned prickly and asshole-ish post-undergrad.
It made sense. Jeong-jae had even passed his master's thesis back on Earth. He hadn't just slacked off and gotten crushed by a book, damn it.
"I get the grad student grind, so you'd think we could bond over that."
Tsking regretfully, Jeong-jae entered his personal lab. Say what you will, he was still an outsider. A weird one, born with freakish power. The hero's party had been kind. Who else in this world would welcome him without prejudice? Kicked out of that group, where could he find peace? What should he even aim for now?
Dedicate his life to magic research here and contribute to defeating the Demon King? Magic was fascinating enough to pour his soul into, but he hated the Tower's atmosphere. He'd rather Walter shipped him off to some quiet backwater ASAP.
Jeong-jae was savoring that rare tranquility in the Tower, nose buried in a book, when—
Knock knock.
A light rap at his lab door. He looked up from his reading.
"Who's there?"
"It's Gwen. May I come in?"
Gwen. Gwen Marcellus. The head of the Magic Tower, commonly called the "Sage." Here, "sage" wasn't like Walter H. Hellhound's title for wisdom—it was just the standard rank for the Tower's leader. Those who'd seized control with untouchable genius and achievements got "Grand Sage," but Gwen Marcellus lacked that charisma, as the Tower's current tense, chaotic mood showed.
Jeong-jae always felt a twinge of guilt; he knew he contributed to undermining her authority. No matter how wise or powerful she was, a Grand Archmage who surpassed her existing in the same era naturally eroded the Sage's dignity.
"Yes, Sage."
Gwen opened the door and shuffled in: a hunched, white-haired old woman in a red robe, leaning on her staff. Jeong-jae hurriedly pulled up a chair for her. She nodded with a wrinkled smile, sat, and propped her staff beside her.
"What brings you here, Sage?"
Jeong-jae sat opposite her. She removed her hood, then spoke slowly.
"It won't take long, so I'll be quick. How's life in the Tower treating you?"
"Great. Everyone's passionate, facilities are top-notch."
A white lie. Gwen shook her head with a knowing smile, as if seeing right through him.
"You're not suited for this Tower, Grand Archmage. Oh, not that you're lacking—misunderstanding that would be my fault. Truth is, I'm the deficient one. This Tower, led by an old hag like me, isn't vessel enough for you. I'm sorry my mages haven't shown you the respect you deserve."
Jeong-jae waved his hands in genuine fluster.
"Respect? I just... stumbled into this power. Total accident. No reason to envy or admire me."
"Power itself isn't the issue. The question is always whether you can bear it. Too many mages get lost in themselves, blind to the mental burden great power brings—or the weight of decisions in tough moments."
Jeong-jae recalled the battle at Nomember Castle. The Karmic Fire flames. His spell that destroyed everything in the fortress. Not an easy call. He'd hoped to chalk it up to following orders, but Walter had shattered that escape with brutal logic.
Yeah. The pressure of wielding immense power correctly in crisis? Crushing.
"Thank you for the kind words."
"I came because an imperial decree arrived about your status. Tomorrow, you're summoned to the palace for an audience with His Imperial Majesty the Emperor."
"The Emperor? What for?"
Jeong-jae's mind flashed to Jenis's worries—maybe coming true? Had Walter or someone from the hero party accused him of some crime? He shuddered.
"Oh, nothing bad, don't worry. Word is, the Hero proposed granting you a barony. His Majesty approved. Congratulations, Baron Park Jeong-jae."
Baron Park Jeong-jae. Sounded weird. Maybe because it was a Korean name with a Western title tacked on? In Eastern nobility, it'd be more like "Jeong-jae of Whatever Barony."
Rumors had swirled that he'd get a title eventually, but this fast? In this timing? And from Walter, who'd just booted him from the party? Was this fulfilling that "I'll find you a place to stay" promise?
His thoughts raced. He asked Gwen,
"Does it come with a fief?"
"Yes. A small castle near a village under Hacker Count's influence. About three thousand residents—not tiny, and meaningful as a domain."
"That's a decent size for a barony, sure..."
More than the title, Walter's motives baffled him. Boot him from the party, then slot him into some insignificant barony under Hacker Count? A secret mission? Some magical secret in the land needing his investigation?
"Thanks for letting me know. That's all?"
"Yes. Congratulations again, soon-to-be Baron. I'll take my leave."
"Take care going back. I won't wander far."
Gwen rose, staff in hand, and shuffled out. Frail as she looked, she handled her Sage duties competently—no need to escort her.
Bigger question: what was Walter playing at? Once the door clicked shut, Jeong-jae bowed his head in thought.
"Walter definitely saw something through that monocle lens back then. Then he kicked me out, promised a home... and now, on his recommendation, a decent-sized village becomes my turf."
Three thousand nominal population meant fewer now, probably. Under Hacker influence, most able-bodied men would've been conscripted—maybe 2,800 left. Not a frontline spot either, so not expecting wartime heroics.
"Oh, right—dinner with Hacker Count the day after tomorrow."
Perfect timing. Jenis had passed on the invite before his "firing." He'd already said yes, so he'd go—and this was a golden chance. A new lord for Hacker-influenced land? The Count must've signed off. Audience tomorrow for the title, then grill the Count about his new turf.
Jeong-jae buried his nose back in the book. Sadly, his head was too full of other thoughts for it to grip him like before.